บททั้งหมดของ The Blood Bound Legacy: บทที่ 181 - บทที่ 190

Sariah didn’t lower her blade.She couldn’t. Not when the thing standing before her had her voice, her eyes, her posture only sharpened, hollowed. This wasn’t a reflection. It was an improvement. Or at least, that’s what it wanted her to think.“I’m not afraid of you,” Sariah said, voice steady.The echo smiled, tilting its head in a way that was too deliberate to be instinct. “No. You’re afraid of what I represent. You’re afraid that I’m what you could have become if you hadn’t been soft. If you hadn’t hesitated.”“I’m not the one hiding behind stolen skin.”“It’s not stolen. It’s offered,” the echo said calmly. “By the Fold. By the part of you that still remembers what it felt like to be unseen. To be underestimated. I am your ambition without restraint. I am you, but without the constant ache of approval.”“You’re not me.”“You’re what you were trying to become. Until she came along.”The echo’s gaze flicked to Isolde, and for a moment, Sariah’s heart stuttered. Not because she fea

The sky didn’t scream. It didn’t roar. It simply opened wider an ancient seam stretched thin, revealing something vast beyond it. It wasn't light that poured through, or darkness either. It was a third thing, something language hadn’t yet evolved to describe. The world didn’t darken or brighten, it hollowed.At first, no one could tell what was coming. It had no shape. It was not wind, fire, or cloud, but all of them and none of them, a rippling pressure that weighed down on lungs and will alike. People began to fall to their knees without realizing they had. It wasn’t worship. It was instinct. Every living thing knew to lower its gaze when the divine or something wearing the sacred as a skin entered the room.Isolde stood tall, but she felt the tremor in her bones. The Fold had felt like a sentient weapon. This... this was something different. This was hunger with purpose. This was memory twisted into prophecy. She took a step forward, and every step required more strength than the l

The throne hovered within the breach like a promise too heavy to carry. It didn’t glow. It drew. It wasn’t simply stone and sigil. It was memory shaped into a burden—history forged into a dare. The world around them dimmed, as if holding its breath not from fear, but anticipation.Isolde felt it before she saw it. The way the light bent. The gravity shifted beneath her feet. The way her power leaned forward as if trying to crawl out of her chest. She took one step toward the breach.Sariah blocked her path, not violently. Just enough.“Don’t,” she said quietly.Isolde didn’t step back. “We don’t have time for this.”“No,” Sariah said. “We don’t. Which is exactly why we need to decide now who’s going through.”The wind shifted around them, thick with static. Behind them, the entity watched but did not speak. It had made its statement. It had offered the throne. It would not interfere. That made it worse.“Why are you stopping me?” Isolde asked, voice low.Sariah’s jaw clenched. “Becaus

The moment their fingers touched, the throne responded.Not with light. Not with sound. With memory.It pulsed once, and the space around it began to ripple, not like wind across water, but like a film being pulled taut and peeled back. The light darkened into deep, liquid gold, as if the air had become the surface of an ancient mirror that remembered reflections and every truth its viewers had tried to bury.Sariah gasped as the ground beneath her shifted. It was no longer stone, no longer space—it became something familiar.She was standing in the courtyard of the Citadel. But not the present-day ruin. The real Citadel. Whole. Lush with ivy. Vibrant with life. She heard laughter echoing from the eastern towers. She smelled rosemary baked into bread from the kitchens.She turned to Isolde, but Isolde was gone.In her place stood a child.Sariah’s younger self.Barefoot. Wild-eyed. A wooden sword tucked under her belt, stained with chalk from training grounds that no longer existed. T

The rift closed with a sound that wasn’t quite thunder and not quite silence—a soft, folding exhale, like the breath a soul takes when leaving a body. When it sealed completely, there was no glow, no explosion—just absence—an unbearable stillness that clung to the stone walls and settled into the bones of everyone watching.Isolde didn’t move.Couldn’t.Her hand was still stretched forward, reaching into nothing. Her fingers curled slightly as if grasping at the air might pull Sariah back from wherever the throne had taken her. But the space where Sariah had stood was empty now, and the absence was louder than anything Isolde had ever heard.She dropped her hand slowly, as if even that motion betrayed something.“Sariah,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the weight of a name that suddenly felt too large for the air around her.Evin stepped closer, but stopped when he saw her face. He had always known how to navigate her edges, but even he didn’t dare speak right now.Because ho