Page 147 of Bound to the Dreadlord

I do not care. I do not want power. I do not want Drazharel’s throne.

I’m a fool because I realized it too late that I only want her. I continue my quest to find her.

I track her the way I would hunt an enemy—the only way I know how. What has anyone ever been to me but an enemy? I follow the remnants of her magic, the places where the world still bends to her presence.

Every step she takes leaves a scar in the world.

A ruined tavern where men whisper of a blue-eyed girl who walked in, who did not speak, who left behind nothing but fear.

A dying forest where the air itself hums with her power, where even the animals refuse to make a sound.

A river that should not exist, glowing like liquid starlight, reflecting a sky that has never known a god.

I follow her footprints in the mud, her shadow in the mist.

And yet, she is always gone before I arrive.

She does not want me to find her.

But I will. I have to.

55

SERA

Ishould disappear forever.

I tell myself this every night. Every morning. Every time I wake in a new place, alone, unburdened, untethered.

But it is a lie because no matter how far I go, he is still there.

Not in body. Not in the flesh.

But in my blood. My bones. My magic.

Veylan is a wound that does not heal and I am still bleeding.

Am I so stupid for craving the man who killed me?

For weeks, I have wandered alone.

Through cities that do not know my name. Through forests that whisper with my power, bending, warping, alive.

People fear me.

They should.

The first time I walked into a tavern, a man reached for me—too bold, too careless.

I did not kill him. But I thought about it.

That is the difference now.

Before, I would have flinched, stepped back, swallowed my fury like a coward.

Now, I simply looked at him.

His face turned pale. His fingers curled inward. His entire body shook.

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