Page 48 of Bound to the Dreadlord

"You are not human."

A whisper.

A decree.

A truth neither of us can deny any longer.

The words unravel something deep inside me, something I don’t want to touch.

I step back.

He follows.

"Say it."

I press my lips together, hands curling into fists.

"No."

A shift in the air.

A warning.

Then he moves.

I retreat, but not quickly enough.

His hands press against the table behind me, caging me in.

Not forceful. Not violent.

Something worse.

Something dangerous.

His presence is all-consuming.

His breath is steady. Measured. Too calm.

But his hands?

His fingers flex, just slightly, as if fighting an instinct he doesn’t yet understand.

"You are not human," he repeats.

His voice is lower this time, softer.

As if the truth is not a blade—but a brand.

My throat tightens.

"Then what am I?"

Silence.

He doesn’t answer because he doesn’t know.

Veylan Drazharel has no answers despite his vast knowledge.

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