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Chapter Seventeen: Echoes in the Quiet
Last Updated:
2025-12-13 22:19:50
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Bound To Ruin Chapter Twenty: Shatter
I didn’t sleep.Even after the ruin faded and the corridors widened. Even when the moss returned, softening the stone beneath Calyx’s steps. Even when he laid me down in a chamber I didn’t recognize, ringed with old ivy and veins of silver light. I just stared at the ceiling, wide-eyed and hollow.Calyx said nothing. He didn’t try to touch me again. Just sat at the edge of the room, half-shadowed by the wall, like even being too close might break something.And maybe it would.I didn’t know what was worse: the silence outside me or the storm inside. My skin buzzed with leftover grief, tension, shame. The place where my ancestor had died still lingered beneath my fingernails, under my tongue. I could still taste her stillness. Still feel the echo of Ruarc’s breath against her throat—my throat—as if the dream had never ended.I wanted to scream. I wanted to claw at the walls. I wanted someone to blame, someone to shatter for what I now carried—what I could not put down.Instead, I curle
Bound To Ruin Chapter Nineteen: Inheritance
I didn’t remember falling asleep. Only the weight of it—the kind that didn’t just settle in muscle and bone but crawled into marrow. The kind that made breath feel optional. The kind that made even memory too heavy to lift.The body beside me hadn’t changed. Still perfect. Still warm. Still wrong.She looked like me.The resemblance was more than uncanny—it was consuming. My features, my mouth, the shape of my hands folded over her stomach like she was holding in a secret she never got to speak. It was like staring into a mirror carved from stillness.And part of me wanted to stay.Not because I was brave. Not because I was broken.Because I was tired.Tired of waking up with someone else’s hunger on my skin. Tired of dreams that tasted like hands I hadn’t touched and kisses I never gave. Tired of being hollowed out by ghosts who wore the shape of men and monsters and lovers all in one.I wanted to sink beside her. To close my eyes. To let the stone cradle me and whisper that it would
Bound To Ruin Chapter Eighteen: The Unmaking
The dream didn’t rise gently. It snapped.One moment I was curled beneath Miren’s blanket, the memory of his voice still curling in my chest like warmth. The next—I was cold. Not the kind of cold that made you shiver. The kind that made you still.The air was damp, heavy with the scent of moss and stone soaked through by centuries. My breath clouded in the dimness, but I didn’t feel my lungs move. The world around me wasn’t mine. The stone beneath my feet pulsed. Damp. Earthen. Older than any corridor I’d walked. It breathed like a beast at rest.I stood barefoot. Naked. But the body I wore wasn’t mine. The limbs felt longer. The curves sharper. The skin warmer, even in the cold.Broad hands gripped my shoulders. Not to hold me in place—just to remind me that I was not alone. That I was never alone here.His breath brushed the shell of my ear, hot and wolf-sharp."You should’ve stayed quiet," he said, voice low enough to bruise.The voice was Ruarc’s.And I—she—my ancestor—didn’t flin
Bound To Ruin Chapter Seventeen: Echoes in the Quiet
The memory came not like fire.Not like Calyx’s bite or the fae’s voice slithering through my skull.It came like warmth. Like breath. Like forgiveness offered before the wound.Like a hand pressed gently over mine.I didn’t close my eyes. I didn’t have to. The room dimmed around the edges, like the light had folded itself inward, as if the world were exhaling, folding me back into something I hadn’t known I’d been holding inside.And suddenly, I was somewhere else.Not fully. Not entirely. But my skin remembered. My bones remembered. The heat of the tea steamed through the air like breath caught between bodies, curling around me like a scent I knew from another life.The room was the same.The chair was the same.But I was her.And Miren was still Miren.He stood across the fire, younger in a way that wasn’t just appearance, but atmosphere. The shadows hadn’t thickened around him yet. The ache hadn’t settled into the slope of his shoulders. But that quiet—calm as snowfall, weightless
Bound To Ruin Chapter Sixteen: The Quiet That Holds You
By the time I reached my chambers, I was shaking. Not from fear.Not just from shame. From everything.Calyx had disappeared like smoke, the echo of his restraint still pressed into my skin. Ruarc had tried to own my body with anger and guilt and memory, then walked away like the damage wasn’t real. The fae—he didn’t need to touch me. Just his voice was enough to sink under my skin, to turn every inch of me into something he already owned.I wanted silence. I wanted distance.I wanted to disappear into my room and never see another monster again.But when I turned the final corner, he was there.Miren.He stood quietly in the hall, near my door, arms folded loosely across his chest. The lantern above him flickered, painting his hair in soft gold and shadow. No rage. No mockery. No hunger leaking from the edges of his expression.Just... calm.The sight of it undid me.Tears welled before I knew they were coming. A sob crawled up my throat, and then I was crying—messy, broken, helpless
Bound To Ruin Chapter Fifteen: The Scent of Hunger
"Disgusting."The word curled out of him like it was venom, low and sharp. It landed between us like a slap, stinging in a way that had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with the weight in his voice. Ruarc’s eyes dragged over me—not in appraisal, but in judgment. They burned with something hot and bitter, flashing gold under the torchlight as they lingered on my throat, my swollen lips, the flush on my skin.My body still sang with the echo of Calyx's touch—my thighs damp, my nerves frayed. I could feel the throbbing pulse of my heartbeat in places I didn’t want to name. And there he stood, fresh from the bathhouse, skin still damp, scent scrubbed clean—and utterly undone.He stalked forward like he was scenting prey, muscles tight beneath bare skin. His jaw clenched, heat rippling off him in waves. No words. Just movement. Just fury.I took a step back. Just one.His nostrils flared. He inhaled sharply, as if the very scent of me offended him—or intoxicated him. "You smel
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