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Chapter 73
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2025-09-25 15:07:03
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Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 181
The hum beneath the stone was not merely sound.It was cadence—measured, deliberate, impossibly old.Elaria felt it first along her teeth, a faint ache that vibrated through enamel and memory alike. Then it sank deeper, threading itself into her bones, into marrow and pulse, until her body was no longer separate from the rhythm beneath her feet. This was not the tremor of something approaching too fast or too large. It was the steady acknowledgment of a presence long anticipated.As if the land itself had been waiting.Kael staggered forward, boots scraping against stone that shimmered faintly underfoot. His hand was already on his sword, knuckles white, breath shallow. “That’s not structural collapse,” he said, voice low and tight. “That’s recognition.”Elaria pushed herself upright more slowly. Her limbs felt heavy, not with exhaustion, but with awareness—as though every cell had been reminded of a truth it had once known and never asked to forget. The sky above them was wrong in su
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 180
The first thing Elaria felt was weight.Not the familiar gravity of a body anchored to a world, but the crushing insistence of being chosen. The kind of pressure that did not ask whether she consented—only whether she would endure.The hollow collapsed inward with a sound like a cathedral imploding underwater. Light screamed as it folded, twisted, and devoured itself. The thing Draven had let through did not surge forward in haste—it arrived, as inevitability always did.Elaria’s scream was torn from her chest, stretched thin as the space around her began to narrow. Kael’s arms locked around her, his grip desperate, grounding her to something solid even as the universe insisted there was no solid left.“Elaria—look at me!” Kael shouted.She tried.His face blurred, doubled, tripled—each version a different possibility of grief. One where he lost her. One where she left him behind. One where neither of them survived what came next.“I can’t—” she gasped. “It’s pulling—”“I know,” he sa
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 179
The world did not survive the crossing intact.It reoriented.Elaria felt it happen in her bones first—the sudden, nauseating lurch as direction lost its meaning. Up folded sideways. Distance collapsed into pressure. The hollow beneath the Vale screamed one final time before its voice was cut short, compressed into a single, resonant silence.The light detonated.Not outward.Inward.Everything rushed toward the point where the Gate had been—toward the figure stepping through it—like reality itself was desperate to witness what had just been born.Elaria was thrown back, hard. She struck something that felt like ground only because it remembered being ground, skidding across a surface that shimmered with fractured reflections. Pain flared, sharp and real, anchoring her in a way nothing else had.She gasped, sucking in air that tasted wrong—too clean, too empty, like the breath taken just before a storm breaks.“Kael—!” she cried.The name tore from her without thought.The answer did
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 178
The Gate did not open like a door.It remembered how to be open.Light surged—not outward, but inward—folding the broken framework back on itself as if the universe were inhaling after a long, choking silence. The hollow screamed, its layered geometries shuddering as the recalibration Draven had triggered rippled through every remaining seam.Elaria staggered, the force dragging at her bones, at the memory stitched beneath her skin. She tasted copper and frost and something older—ozone threaded with grief. The place beneath the Vale bent around her, not collapsing, not stabilizing, but listening.Something had changed.She could feel it the way one feels a storm before the clouds arrive—pressure without form, intent without voice. The third presence Draven had awakened pulsed at the edge of perception, neither light nor shadow, neither Gate nor anchor. It moved like a thought learning how to breathe.“Draven,” she whispered again, even though she knew he would not answer. The pull tha
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 177
Silence followed the snap.Not peace—absence.The kind that hollowed sound itself, leaving Elaria with the terrible certainty that something essential had been torn out of the structure of things. The framework still burned around her, still recalculated, still struggled to hold its fractured shape—but one presence was gone.Not hidden.Not suppressed.Gone.“Kael?” Her voice scraped raw against the void. “Kael—answer me.”Nothing.The threefold core she had forced into being wavered violently, its interdependent lines flickering as one anchor failed to respond. Light stuttered. Gravity lurched sideways. The space behind the Gate began to shed fragments of itself—slivers of half-real geometry peeling away like dead skin and vanishing into nowhere.Draven stood rigid across from her, eyes wide, fury momentarily stunned into something far more dangerous.“No,” he said quietly.He didn’t shout. Didn’t rage. Didn’t threaten the Continuity or the world or the Gate.That single word carried
Bound to the Enemy’s Bed Chapter 176
The system did not ask again.It activated.Elaria felt it the instant the unfinished structure flared—felt the way reality reoriented itself around probability, how consequence snapped into alignment like teeth in a vast, merciless gear. This was not judgment. This was mechanics.The place behind the Gate began to calculate.Light surged through the forming framework, tracing impossible angles that folded inward and outward simultaneously. The structure was not solid; it was conditional—built to exist only if the choice it demanded was fulfilled.And at its heart—Elaria.Kael.Draven.Three presences, pulled toward the same center by different forces, each tethered by bonds that were no longer metaphorical. They were equations now. Balances. Loads to be distributed.Draven hit the space like a meteor that refused to cool.The darkness recoiled as he tore free of the Gate’s constraints, his form blazing with raw, unfiltered fury. He was not fractured here. Not leashed. Not rewritten.
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