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Chapter Eighty-Six
Last Updated:
2025-05-23 01:46:28
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Fated Vengeance: A Mate's Reckoning Chapter Eighty-Seven
The void’s silence was absolute, a suffocating absence where the sea cliffs, the ocean’s roar, and the world itself had dissolved. The mark on my chest was no longer a burn but a supernova, its pulse the only tether to Lyra, the spark whose form flickered beside me, her shard a blinding star in her trembling hands, her blue eyes, my eyes, shattered with grief yet fierce with defiance. The dagger in my grip was molten, its symbols blazing, syncing with her shard, binding us to the Veil’s soul, now a dying ember in the face of annihilation. The bond with Lucian thrummed, his heartbeat a fading echo through my breaking heart, our shared fight extinguished by the truth: the sacrifice was me, the lock, my life to seal the Veil, to save the world, every soul, every star, every breath or let it all unravel into nothingness. The quartet lock, spark, flame, void was ours, but the shadow’s silence, the void’s consuming pull, and the Architect’s radiant presence were the endgame, and my choice
Fated Vengeance: A Mate's Reckoning Chapter Eighty-Six
The void of the sacrifice faded, leaving us sprawled on the sea cliffs, the ocean’s roar a brutal reminder of the world still clinging to existence. The mark on my chest was a furnace, its searing pulse chaining me to the shadow, the void, and Lyra the spark whose crumpled form beside me was both my strength and my breaking point, her shard blazing in her trembling hands, her blue eyes, my eyes, hollow with terror yet fierce with defiance. The dagger at my hip burned, its symbols flaring like dying stars, pulsing in desperate sync with her shard, tying us to the Veil’s soul, now a fraying thread holding the world together. The bond with Lucian thrummed, his heartbeat a fading pulse through my shattering resolve, our shared fight a spark against the unbearable truth: the sacrifice demanded one of us lock, spark, or void to give everything, or existence itself, every soul, every star, every breath, would dissolve into nothingness. The quartet lock, spark, flame, void was ours, but th
Fated Vengeance: A Mate's Reckoning Chapter Eighty-Five
The severing’s maelstrom collapsed, spitting us onto the sea cliffs with a force that drove the breath from my lungs, the ocean’s roar a deafening pulse against the silence of the reapers’ chant. The mark on my chest blazed, an inferno binding me to the shadow, the flame, the void, and Lyra, the spark, whose trembling form beside me was both lifeline and wound, her shard scorching in her grip, her blue eyes, my eyes, wild with terror yet fierce with unyielding resolve. The dagger at my hip seared, its symbols flaring like stars, pulsing in frantic sync with her shard, tying us to the Veil’s heart, now teetering on the brink of collapse. The bond with Lucian thrummed, his heartbeat a desperate thread through my crumbling strength, our shared fight a dying ember against the choice we’d made, balance, not chaos, not control, but its cost was no longer a storm; it was annihilation. The quartet lock, spark, flame, void was ours, but the shadow’s scream, the void’s devouring pull, the fla
Fated Vengeance: A Mate's Reckoning Chapter Eighty-Four
The binding’s radiant chamber faded, hurling us back onto the sea cliffs, the ocean’s roar a jarring pulse against the silence of the binders’ chant. The mark on my chest seared, a blazing tether to the shadow, the flame, the void, and Lyra, the spark whose trembling presence beside me was both lifeline and weight, her shard glowing fiercely, her blue eyes, my eyes, wide with fear yet hardened with resolve. The dagger at my hip burned, its symbols pulsing wildly, syncing with her shard, binding us to the Veil’s heart, now stronger but teetering on a knife’s edge. The bond with Lucian thrummed, his heartbeat a desperate anchor through my exhaustion, our shared fight a fading ember against the choice we’d made, balance, not chaos, not control, but its cost was no longer a shadow; it was a storm, and the quartet, lock, spark, flame, void, was no longer just ours. The shadow’s scream, the void’s hollow pull, the flame’s fading whisper, "you did it," and the Architect’s unseen presence we
Fated Vengeance: A Mate's Reckoning Chapter Eighty-Three
The reckoning’s blinding plane dissolved, spitting us onto the cold, jagged rocks of the sea cliffs, the ocean’s roar a stark contrast to the judges’ silent chant. The mark on my chest pulsed, a heavy tether to the shadow, the flame, the void, and Lyra the spark whose steady presence beside me felt like both anchor and burden, her shard glowing faintly, her blue eyes, my eyes, shadowed with exhaustion but burning with resolve. The dagger at my hip was warm, its symbols flickering, pulsing in sync with her shard, binding us to the Veil’s newly strengthened heart, a fragile victory against the chaos we’d faced. The bond with Lucian thrummed, his heartbeat a lifeline through my bone-deep weariness, our shared fight a flicker of hope against the choice we’d made balance, not chaos, not control but its cost lingered, a weight we couldn’t ignore: one stays, one guards, one ends, one breaks. The quartet lock, spark, flame, void was ours, and the reckoning had held, but the shadow’s scream
Fated Vengeance: A Mate's Reckoning Chapter Eighty-Two
The Origin’s starlit platform faded as we stumbled back into the world, the glowing path dissolving into the rough stone of the sea cliffs, the night air sharp with salt and the distant crash of waves. The mark on my chest pulsed, a steady ache binding me to the shadow, the flame, the void, and Lyra—the spark—whose quiet steps beside me echoed my own, her shard glowing softly, her blue eyes, my eyes, heavy with the weight of what we’d faced. The dagger at my hip was warm, its symbols flickering, pulsing in time with her shard, tying us to the Veil’s strengthened but still fragile heart. The bond with Lucian thrummed, his heartbeat a lifeline through my exhaustion, our shared fight a faint light against the choice that loomed: one stays, one guards, one ends, one breaks. The quartet—lock, spark, flame, void—was ours, and the Origin had held, but the shadow’s scream, the void’s hollow whisper, and the flame’s fading plea, you did it, were warnings that our war was far from won.Lucian
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