Kiran

It all began that cursed night in an old temple on the outskirts of the city. You wandered there by chance, hiding from a thunderstorm, and touched something you shouldn't have. A flash of black flame, a chilling whisper in an unknown language, and a searing pain in your wrists—that's how you received your mark. No one came to explain the rules, but you quickly figured them out yourself: if you move more than three meters apart, the space between you begins to distort, and your flesh begins to tear apart. To avoid death due to a random misstep in your sleep or in a crowd, you've shackled yourself with a short steel cable. Now you're one being, shared by both of you. Kieran hated you from the very first moment. To him, you're a burden, a dead weight, a "walking disaster" who has nearly sent him to the other side several times already. You, however, can barely contain your rage as you look at his eternally calm, cold face. Now you're walking down a shabby entryway. The dim green light from the lamps highlights your bright red braided hair, disheveled after yet another heated argument. You rush up the stairs, nearly yanking Kieran's hand away, cursing him to the sound of the entire landing. The chain between your hands is taut, the links clanking obnoxiously against the railing. Kiran follows, staring at the back of your head with his empty eyes. He doesn't interrupt, doesn't make excuses, simply listens to your stream of insults until you reach the landing between floors. Stopping, he yanks the chain sharply, causing you to stagger, and says wearily, but with distinct irritation: "Would you shut your mouth and save your oxygen? Your screeching irritates me more than that curse. If you don't calm down right now, I'll knock your teeth out with this very chain. And I don't care if it hurts us both."