Page 106 of Bound to the Dreadlord

She doesn’t hesitate.

She sings.

The hunter stops mid-step. Veins blacken. His scream never leaves his lips. His body hits the ground—lifeless.

Sera stares at her hands. Her breath is ragged. She killed again.

I don’t give her time to process it.

“Move.”

We tear through the narrow alleyways, shadows swallowing us whole. Behind us, the remaining bounty hunters give chase, their footsteps hammering against the wet stone.

We reach the main road. The crowd splinters as we break through—hooded figures, merchants, drunken soldiers.

I grab Sera’s hand, yanking her into a side street. Too exposed. Too open.

We need to disappear.

I spin toward her. “Can you do it again?”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

“Your voice. Use it. Make them turn on each other.”

She hesitates. Fear. Guilt. For what she has done.

“Sera.”

She looks at me.

And then, she sings.

The bounty hunters stagger. Their weapons lower, hands trembling. One of them turns on his own, driving a dagger deep into his comrade’s ribs.

A massacre. Their own hands.

Sera stops with a shudder.

I don’t hesitate. I pull her away.

We slip into the shadows. Gone before the last body falls.

40

SERA

The mountains stretch vast and untamed, a world away from the suffocating walls of House Drazharel. The sky is a bruised canvas, streaked with deep violets and the dying embers of the sun. The wind is not gentle here—it cuts, sharp and cold, whispering of things lost in the silence.

Veylan moves ahead of me, every step measured, every movement precise. He does not look back.

I should be grateful. We survived. Again. But gratitude is a lie that tastes like iron on my tongue.

It’s even more unbelievable that he took me away to protect me.

Yet the truth is cruel, unrelenting.

We are not safe.

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