All Chapters of Bound by Darkness: Shadowborn: Chapter 101 - Chapter 109

The Mistress’s POVThe glade breathed beneath the pale silver of the moon, leaves trembling in the soft whisper of night air. Every rustle, every scent was a note in a symphony composed entirely for me and my intent. I lingered at the edge, letting the shadows cradle me, letting them conceal the quiet smile curling at the edge of my lips. She was there, finally. Therrin, alive and teetering on the precipice of curiosity and caution, unaware of how close she was to my design.Her every step was deliberate, cautious, but her pulse betrayed her. I could feel it, a faint tremor through the threads of magic she carried. A delicate, shimmering line connecting her to the world, to herself, and now, to me. She had been trained, yes, but not fully yet. Not enough to resist entirely. The brand had taken root, subtle but unyielding, like a vine weaving through the soul it had claimed. Soon, very soon, she would bend entirely to my will.I stepped forward, allowing th

Ciaran’s POVThe moment I saw her in the clearing, I felt it—the pull of something fragile and fierce all at once. Therrin stood there, her posture tense, shadowed threads of her magic rippling faintly around her like restless currents beneath a still surface. My chest tightened. Protecting her wasn’t just instinct; it was necessity. It was as though the air itself demanded I keep her safe, that every misstep of mine could shatter her.“Therrin,” I said softly, letting my voice cut through the quiet hum of the forest. She didn’t turn immediately, and I wondered if my words had startled her or if she simply hesitated to face me. Either way, I could feel the weight of every doubt, every fear she carried, pressing between us like a tangible wall.I took a step closer. Each movement measured, careful not to startle, but intentional. “We need to talk,” I said. “About us. About everything.”Her head tilted slightly, a silent question. I wanted to tell h

Dion's POV The world around him unraveled in reverse. Time folded in on itself like a collapsing star. One moment, Dion stood in the clearing, heart pounding from the last trial's end. The next, his breath stilled — stolen, not by awe, but by silence. No sound. Not the rustle of wind. Not the distant hum of life. Not even the steady thrum of his own heartbeat. The Trial of the Voice had begun. He opened his mouth to speak — to summon flame, wind, or light — but no sound escaped. His voice was sealed inside him like a scream caught between breaths. Panic stirred in his chest. His powers often responded to command, to intent reinforced by his voice. Without it, the tether to his strength was thinner. He closed his eyes. Calm. Breathe. Focus. He listened harder, hoping it was just illusion. But the silence wasn't emptiness. It was suffocation — pressing in on every sense, weightless and yet unbear

Therrin's POV The magic pulsed through her fingers, soft and deep like the beat of a distant drum. Therrin stood in the clearing with her hands half-raised, fingertips glowing faintly with shadowlight. It curled up her arms like smoke, wrapping around her wrists, her forearms, slipping under her sleeves like it had always belonged there. Ciaran watched from the edge of the stones, arms crossed over his chest, the moonlight silvering the edges of his raven-black hair. His expression was unreadable, but she felt the weight of his gaze the same way she felt her magic respond to him—alive, tugging, ancient. She inhaled slowly, drawing the night into her lungs. "Again," he said gently. "This time, let it breathe through you." She closed her eyes. The moment she did, the image flashed behind her eyelids—quick, like lightning: A moonlit garden. White flowers, trembling. A man beside her, dark-eyed, his voice like thunder wrap

Dion's POV The wind didn't howl. It whispered. Soft as breath, gentle as silk, the strange wind lifted Dion from the forest floor and carried him across a veil of light, dissolving the trees and sky behind him. The moment he blinked, the world was no longer real — at least not as he'd known it. He was alone. And yet… not. The ground beneath his feet shimmered like obsidian glass, reflecting a night sky smeared with galaxies. Stars moved like living things, threading themselves into patterns that pulsed with memory, pain, and desire. Dion swallowed hard, heart hammering. The silence wasn't hollow — it was listening. His fourth trial had begun. A pulse echoed beneath his ribs, not of fear — of recognition. This place had no walls, no edge, no horizon. Just him and a sensation — a presence — brushing the inside of his chest like fingers trailing across skin. It wasn't Therrin. It wasn't Ari. It was… them, both a