All Chapters of The Blood Bound Legacy: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

The room was too quiet.Dain sat unmoving, the shard still resting in his open hand, as if letting go might make the vision more real—or more permanent. He stared at the empty space before him, but his eyes didn’t see the room. Not the candlelight softening at the corners. Not the half-eaten meal beside him. Not the low whistle of wind outside the shuttered window. His senses were still trapped in a place that no longer existed, anchored in the jungle heat, in the look on her face just before she unleashed something none of them could take back.He had seen war before. Pain. The kind that came from cruelty, yes—but also the kind that came from conviction. But what he had just witnessed wasn’t either.What he saw in her eyes—Sariah’s eyes—before she released the Vein like a blade was not hatred.It was grief.And that realization hollowed him more than any fear of what she might become.He ran a hand through his hair, chest tight, limbs heavy. “Why didn’t they tell us?” he muttered to

She walked away from the bridge, wind at her back, knowing full well that she wasn’t walking toward safety.She was walking toward the moment everything would burn.And she felt it in her bones—the slow, simmering ache of inevitability that pulsed behind her ribs like an old bruise never given the time to heal. The Vein responded to that certainty, swirling gently beneath her steps as she moved through the fading camp, lighting the earth with thin threads of gold only she could see.Not flames, not yet.But kindling.Each step she took away from the bridge brought her closer to the choice she had delayed for years. Dain’s presence changed everything—not because he threatened her, but because he reminded her who she used to be. Because he believed in her, and that belief... it was a kind of reckoning.She remembered the last time someone had looked at her like that.Thalen.Not the man the Council had twisted into silence, not the memory Dain had just witnessed—but Thalen, the man who

The Vein Gate wasn’t what Dain expected.There were no guards. No wards glowing in the air. No columns of light streaking toward the heavens. Just a stone arch tucked between two jagged cliffs, half-swallowed by vines and wind-worn moss. It looked more like a forgotten ruin than the place the old stories warned never to cross without permission.But his pulse knew better.Even before he stepped into its shadow, Dain felt it. A shift in the world. The way the air tasted was slightly metallic. The way sound fell flat, like the trees around the pass were holding their breath.He adjusted his pack slowly, hands lingering near the hilt of his blade—not from fear, but instinct.“You’re close,” he whispered to the wind. Whether he meant Sariah or the gate itself, he didn’t know. Maybe it was both.His boots crunched over frost-laced earth as he stepped closer. No sign of pursuit yet. No Council scouts. But he knew better than to believe he was truly alone. The further north he came, the more

Sariah stood just beyond the veil of Veinlight, her figure half-shadowed by the rising mist that threaded through the trees like memory made visible.Dain stopped first. Thalen remained a step behind, his silence deliberate, his presence heavy but restrained. Neither of them spoke.She didn’t move.The stillness between them was not empty. It was thick with things that had never been said.“You made it,” Sariah said, her voice even, but not without edge. Her eyes didn’t soften. Not for either of them.Dain stepped forward. “I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”“I didn’t,” she replied. “But the Vein did.”That stung more than he expected. He caught Thalen glance at him, then back to her, as if calculating which words wouldn’t explode on contact.“I didn’t come to challenge you,” Dain said quietly.Sariah’s gaze swept over him. “No. You came to see if what you saw was real. If I were still the woman who chose exile over submission.”“I came because you never asked anyone to understand you.”

Dain didn’t move.He couldn’t.The moment his mother’s eyes or the illusion of them locked with his, the Vein’s current faltered inside him. What had moments ago felt like molten certainty now flickered with something colder, something like grief. The woman standing before him was dressed in the ceremonial robes of the old line, the ones reserved for Counselors’ kin during rites of severance.Her hair was tied back the way she used to wear it on the days she took him into the Hall of Echoes, back when he still believed she was just a scholar, and not a willing tool in the machine that tried to consume Sariah.The enforcer wore her face with terrifying precision. Not a shadow of her, but a memory pulled whole from Dain’s mind. And that was the trick of it.It wasn’t his mother, but the Vein didn’t know that. It responded to belief, not truth.And belief was a fragile, volatile thing.“Dain.” The illusion’s voice was perfect. Calm. Familiar. A tone she had used when scolding him as a bo