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Cain’s Curse Episode

ผู้เขียน: S.A Akinola
last update ปรับปรุงล่าสุด: 2025-09-21 00:46:51

The fortress had its own rhythm.

Days bled into nights with the sound of boots against stone, wolves howling beyond the walls, steel striking steel in the training yard. I learned to mark time not by the sun or moon but by the hunger in my stomach and the ache in my bones.

But that night, everything shifted.

I had just been returned to my chamber after another brutal round of sparring. My body was a map of bruises, my knuckles split open and still stinging. I lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way my scar burned.

The bond was restless, hotter than usual, thrumming in my veins like wildfire. My wolf stirred, uneasy, pressing against the inside of my skin.

Something was wrong.

I sat up, every muscle alert. That was when I heard it, distant at first, then louder. A guttural roar that made the walls vibrate.

Not a wolf’s howl. Not a man’s voice.

Something in between. Something broken.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I knew that sound. I’d heard it my first nigh
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  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   The Devourer Makes an Offer

    LYRAThe Devourer does not announce itself.That’s how I know it’s learned.We’re barely beyond the outer path when the air changes, not colder, not heavier, just… attentive. Like something has leaned closer without touching.Cain feels it a second after I do. His steps slow. His spine tightens.“You feel that,” I murmur.“Yes.”He doesn’t ask what it is.Good.The Hollow is quiet inside me, not absent, not withdrawn.Watching.That’s when the voice arrives.Not in my head.Between us.You are wasting leverage.I stop walking.Cain does too, immediately, instinctively, half-turning toward me, scanning the treeline, the roots, the shadowed rise of stone ahead.“Devourer,” he says flatly.Alpha, it replies, almost indulgent. Or are we pretending that title still matters?I feel it press, not against my mind, but against the space around my choices. Like a hand hovering near my shoulder, never quite landing.You could have owned that square, it continues. You chose departure instead.“I

  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   Marked Is Not Chosen

    LYRAThey don’t touch me.That’s the first thing I notice as the guards close in.They circle.They signal.They tighten formation.But none of them reach for me.Fear has recalibrated their instincts. I’m no longer a person to restrain—I’m a variable.Marked things don’t get handled casually.Cain shifts in front of me without looking back. Not possessive. Not dramatic.Deliberate.A line drawn without ceremony.“You will stand down,” he says.No Alpha command.No roar.Just certainty.The guards hesitate anyway—because fear doesn’t erase training. It complicates it.“She’s compromised,” an elder snaps. “We don’t know what she’ll trigger next.”I feel the Hollow stir—not defensive, not offended.Observant.“I don’t trigger,” I say hoarsely. “I transmit.”That lands worse.Murmurs ripple through the square—panic wearing the language of reason.Cain’s shoulders square.CAINThis is where power usually answers fear.This is where an Alpha asserts hierarchy, dominance, threat.I don’t.B

  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   The Hollow Does Not Negotiate

    LYRAThe Hollow does not wait for permission.That’s the first truth I learn when it happens.Not in ritual.Not in solitude.Not in the careful space I promised myself I would choose.It happens in the open.The square is crowded—wolves pressed shoulder to shoulder, voices overlapping, tension still humming from the council’s fracture. Memory has made everyone restless. Names once buried now hover at the edges of conversation like ghosts no one wants to acknowledge aloud.Cain walks beside me, close enough that our arms brush with each step. Not claiming. Not guarding.Present.I think—foolishly—that matters.Then the ground drops.Not physically. Not enough for anyone else to stumble.Just enough for me.A pressure locks around my spine, sharp and absolute, like invisible hands finding bone and saying here.I gasp.The world doesn’t blur.It opens.Sound folds inward. Every heartbeat in the square becomes audible—too many, too fast. Beneath them, another rhythm asserts itself, older

  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   The Shape of the Price

    CAINThe world does not wait for decisions.It never has.By the time we reach the outer paths—where the city’s influence thins and the land breathes without permission—I feel it shift.Not the Hollow.Something sharper.Closer.Lyra halts mid-step, breath catching like she’s struck a wall only she can see.“Cain,” she says.I’m already moving.The bond flares—not warm, not violent, but strained, like a rope pulled taut between two anchors drifting apart.The Devourer does not announce itself.It never wastes spectacle where timing will suffice.LYRAIt comes sideways.That’s the only way I can describe it.Not through the Hollow, not through the bond—but through the absence between them.A pressure inversion. A silence where there should be continuity.The Devourer slips into the gap left by indecision.You hesitate, it murmurs—not aloud, not inside my head, but threaded through the place where certainty should live.That is where I thrive.I stagger—not because it hurts.Because it

  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   What the Hollow Demands

    LYRAThe Hollow does not celebrate.That’s the first thing I understand as the council’s voices fracture behind us and the city exhales like something wounded but not yet dead.There is no triumph in the ground beneath my feet. No warmth. No reassurance.Only gravity.The Hollow pulls—not forward, not down, but inward. Toward a center that has nothing to do with geography and everything to do with cost.Cain feels it too. I know by the way his steps slow. By the way his shoulders square, not in dominance, but in readiness.“It’s not finished,” he says quietly.“No,” I agree. “It’s just done hiding.”We stop at the edge of the city where stone gives way to root and ash. Where the land stops pretending it was ever neutral.The Forgotten Kin are already there.Waiting.Not assembled like an army.Positioned like punctuation.CAINI am keenly aware of what I no longer have.No insignia.No authority.No shield of inherited command.What I have instead is worse—and better.Attention.The s

  • Bound to the Alpha Who Killed Me   The Council Remembers Too Late

    LYRAThe council chamber was never meant to remember.Stone walls. High ceilings. Seats carved to elevate voices that expected never to be contradicted. The kind of architecture that assumes permanence simply because it has not yet been challenged.The Hollow disagrees.I feel it before we cross the threshold—roots threading beneath polished floors, listening. Waiting. The Forgotten Kin are already here. Not seated. Not standing in defiance.Present.That alone fractures the room.Conversation dies mid-breath. Elders stiffen. A few councilors rise instinctively, as if dominance alone might erase what has surfaced.It doesn’t.Because the Forgotten Kin do not bow.And Cain does not take the Alpha’s seat.That—that—lands harder than any accusation.CAINI feel every eye on me the moment I stop short of the dais.Habit screams at me to ascend. To claim height. Authority. Control.I don’t.I remain on the floor.Level.Human.Murmurs ripple through the chamber—confusion first, then irrita

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