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Chapter 123
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2025-11-03 19:20:42
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Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 175
Silence did not greet Elaria.Silence observed her.It pressed against her awareness like a held breath that had been waiting an eternity to be released. Not absence—never absence—but a dense, intelligent stillness, layered with intention. This was not a void. This was a reservoir.She stood—if standing still applied—on nothing that acknowledged shape. There was no ground beneath her feet, yet she did not fall. Gravity had no jurisdiction here. Neither did time.This was the place behind the Gate.The place the Gate was never meant to open toward.Elaria felt herself differently here. Not lighter. Not heavier. But truer—as though every compromise she had ever made had been peeled away, leaving only the core she had once been terrified to inhabit.Her body—if it could still be called that—was threaded with light and shadow in equal measure. Not warring. Interwoven. Her heartbeat no longer sounded like blood and muscle; it resonated like a tolling bell, each pulse sending ripples throug
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 174
Elaria did not disappear.She unraveled—and then reassembled into something the universe could no longer pretend it understood.The passage through the Gate was not motion. There was no forward, no downward plunge, no crossing from one space to another. It was inversion—existence folding in on itself like breath pulled too sharply into lungs that had forgotten how to exhale.Inside became outside.Name became distance.Memory became gravity.She felt herself spread across a place that was not empty but undecided.This was not the Hollow she had fallen through before.Not the beneath-place where echoes rotted into whispers.Not the buried chambers where the Vale hid its mistakes.This was the interval.The pause between one truth collapsing and the next one daring to form.Here, light did not exist as illumination. It existed as pressure. Sound was not vibration but insistence. Thought did not belong to her alone—everything that had ever been unfinished pressed inward, hungry for resol
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 173
Elaria did not know how long she stood at the edge of the unraveling.Time had become a suggestion here, a courtesy the world no longer extended. Moments did not pass so much as press against one another, piling up in uneven strata beneath her awareness. Every breath felt like it belonged to a different version of her—some drawn from a past she no longer fully remembered, others pulled from a future that had not yet decided whether it would allow her to exist.The Gate pulsed behind her.Not open.Not closed.Waiting.She could feel it now the way one feels a storm forming beneath the skin—an ache that did not belong to the body so much as to the space around it. Draven’s presence throbbed through the hollow like a second gravity, immense and straining, held in place by sheer will and the fraying remnants of Kael’s restraint.And beyond that—Something else.The thing wearing Draven’s face had retreated after the Gate began to seal, but it had not gone far. It lingered just outside th
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 172
I did not scream when the Gate breathed.I felt it.Not as sound, not as wind—but as recognition.The moment stretched thin, taut as a vein pulled too far. The false-Draven stood at the threshold where the hollow bled into the world-that-was, his silhouette cut from radiance and ruin. Light poured through him, not around him, as if his body were only an outline the universe had agreed to pretend was solid.His smile did not move his eyes.Those eyes were doors.They opened inward.Elaria staggered back as the hollow convulsed. The ground—memory pretending to be stone—rippled beneath her feet, layers of collapsed realities shuddering like disturbed sediment. Threads of light snapped and recoiled, screaming without sound as pressure mounted from both sides of the tear.“No,” she whispered. “You don’t get to wear him.”The thing tilted its head, studying her with an intimacy that made her skin crawl.“I’m not wearing him,” it replied gently. “I am what was left when the world finished us
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 171
Elaria did not run.The Gate was closing—she could feel it the way one feels blood loss, not as pain but as an absence spreading too fast. The corridor of light narrowed behind the thing wearing Draven’s face, its edges shuddering, folding inward like a wound trying to scar over while something was still inside it.The hollow screamed again.Not a sound—never a sound—but a compression of meaning so violent it bent thought. The layers beneath her feet shivered, pages of half-forgotten worlds fluttering as if a hand were rifling through them in a hurry.The not-Draven stepped forward.Each step rewrote distance.He did not cross the space between them; the space rearranged itself to place him closer. His form shimmered with that same seam-light she had seen before—fractures of radiance running through him, but now they were closing, knitting together, as if he were becoming more solid the nearer he came.“You always hesitate here,” he said gently. “At the moment when survival demands yo
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 170
The Gate did not close gently.It screamed.Not aloud—there was no air here to carry sound—but through structure, through memory, through the bones of the place Elaria stood in. The hollow convulsed as if seized by a sudden, violent thought, and the corridor of blazing light before her shuddered, its edges fraying like burning parchment.The thing wearing Draven’s face smiled wider.“You feel it, don’t you?” it said, voice smooth, intimate, wrong in the way a remembered touch can be wrong. “The world panicking.”Elaria backed away, each step dragging against resistance that felt less like gravity and more like regret. The ground beneath her feet flickered—certainty faltering, memory thinning. Beneath the translucent surface she saw the layers again: worlds stacked thin as paper, some intact, some torn, some already smoldering at the edges.“Stay back,” she said, though her voice shook. Light crawled beneath her skin now, veins lit like constellations, like maps she had once drawn for
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