Page 69 of Bound to the Dreadlord

It is power.

A gift I never asked for.

The magic inside me stirs.

And it wants to be used.

Veylan snarls as an arc of black energy slashes toward him. He dodges, but not fast enough.

The spell rakes across his side, searing flesh, burning through armor.

His body jerks. He grits his teeth, but I see it. The way his breath stutters, the way his stance shifts just slightly.

He is hurt.

And I will not lose him like this.

My fingers curl into fists. The power inside me screams.

A song builds in my throat, unbidden, raw. The air vibrates around me, thick with something unseen.

I just open my mouth and sing.

The moment the first note leaves my lips, everything stops.

The torches flicker violently, their flames leaning toward me as though reaching for something ancient.

The nearest assassin stumbles, his blade clattering to the ground as his body locks in place. His breath shudders. His pupils dilate.

Then another.

And another.

All of them.

Frozen. Trapped.

Bound by my voice.

The sound is not human.

It is something older.

Something more.

Veylan’s head whips toward me, silver eyes wide, his chest heaving.

I should stop.

I do not.

The melody rises, and the magic inside me bursts free.

The walls tremble.

The torches blaze.

The assassins collapse.

---