Page 132 of Bound to the Dreadlord

The soldiers around us hesitate. Watching.

Even Veylan stills.

I cannot breathe. Something inside me snaps.

I scream.

The power explodes from my chest like a raw, burning thing, curling around my bones like fire.

I lunge.

The world erupts into a frenzy.

Lightning crackles through the sky, the wind howls, the force of my rage splitting the ground beneath my feet.

I reach for him—for his throat, for his heart, to tear him apart.

He lifts a single hand.

And stops me.

The power slams into an invisible wall.

It shatters against it.

My body doesn’t move fast enough before something slams into my chest.

I feel the world tilt—violently, brutally.

Then I am on the ground, beaten.

The breath is knocked from my lungs. My magic chokes.

I try to rise. I cannot.

I am nothing beneath him.

The battlefield is silent. No one dares move. Not Veylan. Not his brothers. Not their soldiers.

Hazeran towers over me, the firelight from the wreckage behind him casting his face in shadows. His silver hair flows like liquid metal, his expression calm. Patient.

"You thought you could fight me?"He tilts his head."You thought you could change your fate? My sons, do you think you can destroy me? It seems I have raised you well, enough for you to stage a rebellion and kill your father."

His laughter echoes in the battlefield, mocking and holding a sense of finality.

I gasp. I try to lift my arms, but they will not obey me.

My magic does not obey me. My voice won’t come out, it’s as if there’s a binding over my mouth.

Panic claws at my ribs.

No.

I will not die like this.

But Hazeran only watches. And smiles.

Then he lifts his hand and snaps his fingers.

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