Page 129 of Bound to the Dreadlord

A scream rips from my throat—not of pain, but of something else. Something primal. Something ancient.

I sing. It is not a song of beauty. It is a song of death.

The sorcerer freezes. His hands claw at his own throat, his mouth opening in a silent scream. The magic around him unravels, his body convulsing violently.

Then he shatters.

Not a single drop of blood. Not a single bone left behind.

Only ash.

Silence falls.

The battle has not stopped, but they are all staring at me.

The Drazharel brothers. Their soldiers. Even their enemies.

Fear.

I taste it in the air.

I stagger to my feet, my heart pounding so violently I think it might burst. My entire body is humming, my veins alight with something uncontrolled.

Veylan is still on the ground, staring at me.

Not with lust. Not with possession.

With shock and fear.

And that… that is what finally shatters me.

If he fears me, if even he sees me as a monster—then what am I?

Who am I?

I take a shaky breath, stepping back.

Veylan moves to stand.

I run.

I never stop.

48

VEYLAN

She is unrecognizable.

The battlefield is a blur of steel and screams, but my eyes never leave her.

Sera moves through the chaos like a ghost, a blade in one hand, a dagger in the other. Her dress is shredded, her arms streaked with blood—none of it her own. Her face, once so soft, is hardened, unreadable.

She does not fight like someone desperate to live.

She fightslike someone who no longer cares if she dies.

And that—that is what chills me.

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