Page 137 of Bound to the Dreadlord

I laugh.

Or maybe I am screaming.

The pain in my heart, in my whole being, rips me inside and out and I collapse onto the ground.

Darkness takes over…and it’s finally peace.

51

SERA

Silence.

The kind that doesn’t belong in this world.

No breath. No heartbeat. No pain.

I am dead.

There is no light. No darkness. No peace. No torment. Just—nothing.

A vast, empty void where I am unmade.

I feel the blood that left me. The pulse that stopped. The warmth that drained from my flesh.

I remember the sound of the blade cutting me open.

Veylan’s blade.

His hands, the last thing I felt before I slipped away.

I should hate him.

I should want to rip him apart.

But the pain I expect does not come.

Instead, something else stirs.

A hum, soft at first, like fingers skimming the edges of my mind. It slithers beneath my skin, an echo that is not mine.

A whisper that is ancient.

A voice that isn’t mine but is becoming me.

“You are not finished. This is only the beginning.”

I open my mouth to scream—to demand answers—to rage against the cruel, twisted fate that has led me here.

But I do not have a mouth.

I am nothing. I am everything.

The magic moves.

It coils around me, through me, inside me. It is mine.

No, I am it.

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