บททั้งหมดของ The Blood Bound Legacy: บทที่ 201 - บทที่ 210

Dain lay on the narrow bed, fully clothed, his eyes open and fixed on the ceiling above him as if he were trying to read meaning in the old wood. The room had settled into that unnerving kind of silence that wasn't truly quiet, but rather filled with the absence of all the familiar sounds that should have been present. No creaks of the old inn adjusting to the cold, no shifting of the wind outside the window, and certainly no voices from the tavern below. Just stillness, too perfect to be natural, and the slow, rhythmic pulse of something beneath his skin.The mark on his chest dormant during daylight, tolerable during the walk through the village, had started to hum again the moment he’d shut the door behind him. Not painful, but insistent, as if responding to something in the very bones of the place. He hadn’t dared remove his shirt since he arrived.Not out of modesty, but because a small, growing part of him feared what might happen if the mark was left exposed for too long in thi

The first thing he felt was heat—not from the hearth, which had burned low hours ago, but from beneath the floor itself. A soft warmth, pulsing like breath, spread through the soles of his boots and into his legs. Dain remained crouched near the corner where the knocking had stopped, unsure if he had drifted off or if the world had simply shifted around him while he blinked.The moment he exhaled, the room dissolved.Not violently. Not with fire or noise. It simply... changed.The wooden walls gave way to stone, smooth, gray, and damp, lit by a flickering torchlight that danced on surfaces he had never seen before. The musty air of the tavern room was replaced by something ancient and cold, laced with the smell of smoke and moss and something faintly sweet, like pressed herbs left too long in the dark.He didn’t panic.Somewhere deep inside, a part of him accepted the change as if he’d walked through this memory before. Maybe he had. Maybe it had always been waiting for him.The corri

Sariah stood still in the center of her chamber, though calling it a “chamber” no longer felt accurate. The place was not made of walls anymore. It breathed now, shifting, folding in upon itself, reflecting every ripple in the current of the Vein like wind stirring a still lake.She felt it before she heard it. Not a sound. Not a word. Just a decision. The Council had moved. Not against her. Not directly.But toward someone they had locked away in thought and memory, someone she hadn’t dared let herself think about in years. They had whispered a name behind closed walls, and the Vein had carried that whisper straight to her core. Not because it wanted her to stop them. Not because it favored her. But because it knew the weight that name still held within her.Her fingers curled into fists as her breath stilled. “You wouldn’t,” she murmured, though even as she said it, she knew that of course they would.Of course, Marell would.He had always known where her heart broke. And he had nev

The light came first, not as a flash, but as a slow pulse, like a heartbeat returning after a long absence.He felt it beneath his ribs before he opened his eyes. A subtle thrum, deep and ancient, moving through muscle and marrow. It didn’t hurt. Not yet. It just was. A truth he hadn’t needed to face for what felt like lifetimes.He couldn’t remember when they’d put him under.Only the voices.The urgency in Marell’s tone, the cold disappointment in Sariah’s eyes, the sound of the Vein screaming beneath the floor as if it knew what was about to be lost.“Contain him,” someone had said. “Before he chooses her over us.”And he had.Chosen her, that is.He remembered now—bit by bit—as the crystal shell surrounding his body fractured. The containment field gave one last pulse of resistance, then yielded, its purpose fulfilled. He sucked in a sharp breath, and with it came the crushing weight of now.He sat up slowly, muscles aching from unnatural stillness. The air was stale, untouched by

The realization settled like lead in his chest.The shard in his palm was no longer still. It throbbed in quiet rhythm, warm but not painful. It pulsed not with power, but with memory. And it was waiting. Not demanding. Waiting.Dain closed his fingers around it fully.The moment he did, the world around him held its breath.He felt the inn vanish—not with violence, not with fire or scream, but with a kind of mercy. The kind that cradled, not destroyed. The kind that held you close, then let you fall exactly where you were meant to land.The air was different. Warmer. Wetter.He stood now in a place he didn’t recognize.A jungle—alive and unkind. Trees twisted into each other, their roots like fists clawing through the soil. The air buzzed with something just short of heat. It wasn’t summer. It was magic, thick and wet and old. Not wild Vein magic either. Something deeper. Primitive. Pre-language. Pre-law.Dain took a cautious step forward.Leaves didn’t crunch. The ground didn’t resp