Author’s Note
Thank you for stepping into the shadows with me. Shadowborn is a story that was never meant to be soft. It’s sharp-edged, tangled in blood and magic, born from the ache of being too much and not enough all at once. Therrin and Ari—two souls forced to share one body—represent what it means to fight yourself and still hope to be loved. Their journey isn’t easy. It was never meant to be. This book explores the thin line between power and surrender, light and shadow, love and control. It walks the edge of desire and danger, and it does so unapologetically. Every chapter was written with the intention to make you feel—uncomfortable, breathless, seen. If you made it to the end, I hope it left marks. The kind that haunt in the best way. There’s more coming. The story doesn’t end here—and neither does the darkness. Until then, K. Lyn Leigh Prologue Darkness. Pitch black. A space void of light. That's all I see when I open my eyes. To be blind is a dangerous thing. People always say that when you lose one sense, the others sharpen to compensate. But for me? That's an understatement. You see, I wasn't born blind. I was a normal, healthy child. Well… mostly. I was color blind—only able to see in grayscale. Not that it mattered much. Nobody knows exactly what caused it. My mother, Thetis, doesn't carry the gene, and my father is completely normal. That's how genetics work, right? That's how a girl ends up color blind. But I guess I'm the exception. I didn't lose my sight at birth. I became blind after something happened when I was six years old. I don't remember much. Just fragments. Flashes. The way the world changed afterward is what stayed with me the most… Now, I can feel the blades of grass before my feet touch the ground. I can hear the beat of a dragonfly's wings from miles away, fluttering by the river. My hearing is sharp enough to count the milliseconds between each rhythmic thrum. It's beautiful—and unbearable. My other senses are just as intense. So you can probably imagine how overwhelming things get when I come across something unpleasant. But I don't react. I don't show emotion. It's easier that way. I should've introduced myself sooner. My name is Therrin. My friends call me Thera. And I'm a shifter. Being a shifter isn't like it is in the books or movies. There are no werewolves under a full moon, no sudden transformations under rage. In truth, we're a coven of witches—rare ones—gifted with the ability to shift into the creature of our choosing. Ironic, isn't it? The one thing I was born to do… I'm told I can't. Because I'm blind. How can a girl shift into a wolf or a panther if she's never seen what they look like? That's what my coven believes. They think I'm useless. Powerless. A burden. But here's the thing: I can shift. Better than any of them. I never meant to learn. I never even tried. Not after they told me I couldn't. But then it happened— By accident.Ciaran's POV The shadows paused, their movement reverent, as though sensing she'd gone too deep. Her breathing was shallow, her head limp against the air. Floating, bound, and blissfully unconscious. Ciaran stepped closer from the dark, his voice a thread in the stillness. "Little one…" No response. He watched her—admiring and alert—his own breath tight in his chest. Her face was soft, her lashes fluttering like she was dreaming. The shadows curled protectively around her, awaiting his next word like loyal pets. "Therrin," he said more firmly, his voice sliding low and rich, cutting through the haze. "Come back to me." She stirred. A tiny sound escaped her lips, barely audible. Her body shifted slightly in the air, the arch of her back instinctive. She blinked slowly, her eyes unfocused and glazed with submission and softness. "There you are." He touched her cheek,
Therrin's POV The forest around them was thick with dusk, the golden light folding softly beneath the canopy as shadows deepened into night. Therrin sat quietly beside Ciaran, her mind still caught in the aftermath of what had happened during those shadow-bound moments—moments she barely understood but felt woven into the core of her being. Ciaran's voice was low, careful, as he broke the silence between them. "Tell me… how did it feel when the shadows contained your wrists?" His gaze searched hers, steady and patient. Therrin's breath hitched. She hesitated, then slowly looked down at her hands resting on her lap, fingers curling slightly. "It was… strange. Heavy, but not like a weight pressing down. More like a presence—firm, unyielding. I could feel the cold, but it wasn't just cold—it was focused, like the shadows were holding me, keeping me still, making me vulnerable." She swallowed and glanced back at Ciaran, a flick
Grimm's POV The underground chamber hummed with quiet energy, the runes etched into the stone altar glowing softly like a heartbeat in the dim light. Grimm's eyes, sharp and ancient, flicked over Dion's tense form as the young man sat cross-legged, hands resting lightly on the cold surface. "You've taken the first step," Grimm said, voice low but steady. "Acknowledging your fracture is the beginning of healing. But the path ahead will test every part of you—mind, body, and soul." Dion's gaze lifted, weary but determined. "I'm ready to fight. To heal. To hold on." Grimm nodded once. "Good. Because the shadow creatures you face are unlike any foes you've known. They feed on the chaos within, the doubts and fears that ripple through your bond." He stood and began to circle the altar, fingers tracing the glowing runes. "These runes are ancient. Crafted by those who understood the delicate weave of
Dion's POV The ash was still warm beneath his fingers, though the night air had begun to chill around the charred remains of what used to be his sanctuary. The cabin, his refuge from the chaos of the world, lay broken, splintered, and twisted like his heart. Dion sank to the ground, the rough stone biting through his thin boots. His breath came uneven, a mixture of anger, grief, and raw exhaustion. He didn't know how long he had been there, slumped over the wreckage, letting the silence press in on him, heavy and suffocating. He had been forced to watch. To watch her. Therrin. With Ciaran. Their closeness, the way their hands brushed, the quiet moments exchanged between them like a language only they understood—it had torn through Dion's soul like a blade, sharp and cruel. And all he could do was feel. Powerless. Trapped in his own body, a prisoner to his own help
Dion's POV He felt it before he saw it. The tug. The fire. The unbearable silence. The bond between him and Therrin had grown stronger over time — something raw and ancient. But tonight… tonight it burned. Wild and wrong. Like a blade sliding between his ribs, twisted just enough to keep him standing. Dion stormed into the clearing, eyes wild, scent trailing like smoke behind him, shadows whispering in retreat. The moment he crossed the old ward lines, he knew something was off. The cabin he'd built her wasn't empty. But she wasn't there. She was gone. "Where are you?" Dion whispered, but it wasn't a question. It was a plea. He was pulled by instinct more than reason — following the trail only a bonded mate could trace. His boots crushed moss and ash, his heart pounding harder with every step. Then, he fr
Ciaran’s POV She was lying exactly where he'd left her — bare feet tucked beneath her, chest rising in slow, steady breaths, curled like a poem on the dark-furred rug of the abandoned cabin. The fire had long since gone to embers, casting flickers of red across her skin. Ciaran sat in the wooden chair by the hearth, elbows resting on his knees, studying her. There was something dangerous in the peace she wore. Like the stillness of a pond before a body dropped in. He knew what lay beneath that stillness — longing, power, hunger, and shadows, just waiting to be called. His shadows. His mate. Therrin stirred slightly, the curve of her lips parting. A sigh, then a whisper — his name. Not the one others called him. Not the title whispered in fear. The one only she would speak. "Ciaran…" He rose without a sound, the floor groaning gently beneath his bare feet. With a single thought, t