The quill didn't move until I did. Or more accurately, until I wanted it to.
What happened to its parent was sad, yes. But this wasn't charity. If I was going to take on a Soulbind, or whatever this was, it had to serve a purpose. Had to be useful. Not just a burden. Not just something to pity.
So I wrote.
The ink didn't spill so much as burn. It carved the words into the contract like heat sinking into crystal.
'One who follows me does not thrive through cowardice. Loyalty is earned through struggle. And above all, one must fight. Not for ideals. Not for glory. But simply for the fight itself. Survival is part of that fight. And as such survival is crucial.'
No weakness. No exceptions.
The quill hovered, then stopped.
[Second Terms: ???]
It was the cub's turn.
And the moment it realized that, something shifted. The parchment shimmered, folding in on itself. The quill snapped into vapor. Then both reformed, this time, into a floating orb.
