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Chapter 96: The Eternal Pact
Last Updated:
2025-10-08 03:15:52
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Bloodbound: The legacy of Serelai Chapter 111: The Living Journal
The first winter with two children was a different kind of adventure. The valley, wrapped in a thick blanket of snow, became their entire world, the little house was a warm, noisy bubble of life against the silent white.Lyra, at three years old, was a force of nature. Her songs were more complex now, little stories set to music. She sang about the squirrel storing nuts, about the snowflakes dancing, about her baby brother’s tiny toes. Her power was no longer just a reaction; it was a constant, joyful expression of her being.Kael, now several months old, was her perfect counterpoint. Where Lyra was a bright, leaping flame, Kael was the warm, steady hearth. He rarely fussed. He spent his days watching, his dark eyes missing nothing. When Lyra’s songs filled the house, he would hum along, a deep, grounding vibration that seemed to sink her melodies into the walls, making the very wood remember the music.Liora found her role shifting again. She was still a Scribe, but her journals were
Bloodbound: The legacy of Serelai Chapter 110: The Child of Dawn
The last days of Liora’s pregnancy were a quiet, humming tension, the valley itself seemed to hold its breath and the stones’ song was a low, steady thrum of encouragement. Lyra was a constant, warm presence, her small hand often resting on Liora’s belly, her head cocked as she listened.“The song is getting ready,” she would whisper, her eyes wide. “It’s all… gathered up.”Elara was a pillar of calm efficiency. Herbs were prepared. Clean cloths were stacked by the hearth. Ronan, looking more nervous than he ever had facing a werewolf, kept the woodpile impossibly high and the path to the spring meticulously clear.Ashiel rarely left Liora’s side. His restlessness had returned, but it was a different kind. It was the energy of a sentinel waiting for the most important arrival of his life. He would feel the baby move and his breath would catch, his hand covering Liora’s, his eyes full of a love so fierce it was almost painful to behold.The baby came on a night when the autumn moon was
Bloodbound: The legacy of Serelai Chapter 109: The Unwritten Child
The journey home from the coast was different from the journey out, the world didn't just feel lighter; it felt listening. As if Liora’s act of healing the Siren’s sorrow had tuned the land itself to a gentler frequency. Trees seemed to lean in as they passed, not with threat, but with a quiet curiosity. Streams bubbled a little more brightly. It was as if the world was grateful.When they finally crossed back into the hidden valley, the feeling intensified. The stones erupted in a symphony of welcome, their deep hum vibrating up through the soles of Liora’s boots. Lyra came running from the house, her little legs pumping, shrieking with joy."Mama! Da!"She crashed into Liora’s legs, wrapping her arms around them. Liora scooped her up, burying her face in her daughter's hair, inhaling the familiar scent of sun-warmed skin and wild grass. The last of the coastal chill melted from her bones.Elara and Ronan emerged from the house, their faces breaking into wide, relieved smiles. They h
Bloodbound: The legacy of Serelai Chapter 108: The Broken Melody
The peace was a living thing. It grew with the wildflowers in the meadow, it deepened with the roots of the ancient oaks. It hummed in the stones and sang in Lyra’s laughter and for a long, sweet stretch of time, there were no hungry silences. No cracks in the world. There was only the gentle rhythm of their lives in the hidden valley.Lyra was a whirlwind of discovery. She ran everywhere on sturdy, little legs, her dark hair flying behind her. Her vocabulary exploded. She named everything. The spring was "shiny." The hearth fire was "glowy." Ronan’s axe was "no-touch," a lesson learned after a firm but gentle talk. She held long, babbling conversations with the stone circle, and the stones answered with warm, rumbling vibrations that made her giggle.She was the heart of their world, and her song was a constant, quiet music that wrapped around the valley like a protective blanket.But Liora, whose soul was still tuned to the deeper frequencies of the world, felt the first discordant
Bloodbound: The legacy of Serelai Chapter 107: The Song-Weaver
Spring deepened, and the valley exploded with life. The air, once crisp and cold, now carried the warm, green scent of growing things; the bluebells Lyra had inspired had multiplied, creating a carpet of startling blue around the stone circle. The trees were dressed in new leaves, a pale, tender green that whispered in the wind.Lyra was changing almost as fast as the season. She wasn't just babbling now. She had words. "Mama" for Liora. "Da" for Ashiel. "Ra" for Ronan. "La" for Elara. And "Ma-ma" for the big stone with the fern, which was now looking quite festive with a small cluster of white flowers blooming beside the green fronds.She was also mobile. She didn't exactly crawl. It was more of a determined, wobbly scoot, using her arms to pull her body across the floor. Her destination was always the same: the door, she wanted out, she wanted to see the world.Liora’s days were now a constant, joyful chase. She would turn her back for a second, and Lyra would be halfway to the door
Bloodbound: The legacy of Serelai Chapter 106: The Story’s Voice
The world outside the valley was full of small, hungry silences.They didn't talk about it much, but they all knew. The victory in the Blackroot Ravine wasn't a final one. It was a skirmish. A warning. The great Oblivion was bound, but its echoes, its children, were now loose in the world. Like weeds sprouting in a newly cleared field.Life in the valley became a rhythm of watching and mending. Liora’s days were divided between Lyra and the stones. She would nurse her daughter, rock her to sleep, and then sit in the circle, her mind reaching out across the land, feeling for the next cold spot, the next patch of grey hunger.She found two more that winter. One was in a frozen marsh to the north, a place where a forgotten battle had left behind a residue of despair. The other was near an abandoned mine, where the memory of back-breaking labour and cave-ins had worn the land thin.Each time, the method was the same. She didn't fight the silence with more silence, she didn't attack it wit
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