All Chapters of Bound by Darkness: Shadowborn: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

Grimm’s POVGrimm perched silently atop the ridge overlooking the clearing where Therrin wandered. From here, he could see her in every subtle motion—the tilt of her head, the way her shoulders relaxed when Dion approached, and how her body stiffened at Ciaran’s presence. He studied her like one studies an intricate tapestry: every thread intertwined with the others, each color telling a story, each shadow a warning.He had always been cautious with Therrin. Her soul was a rare and volatile thing, and the discovery of Ari within her had complicated everything. But now, with the addition of two mates, the equations of fate had become dangerously complex. Grimm had spent centuries observing the patterns of bonds and connections, and he knew that dual mates were a rarity fraught with peril.Ciaran. Loyal, steadfast, grounded. He moved around Therrin with a precision that mirrored her own inner rhythms, as though he instinctively knew where her boundaries were

The Mistress’s POVThe candlelight flickered across the walls of the ancient chamber, dancing over shelves packed with scrolls and leather-bound tomes so old their spines threatened to crumble at the slightest touch. The Mistress’s long fingers brushed across them with precision, pausing occasionally to trace the worn titles. Each volume held centuries of forbidden knowledge, secrets meant to shape destinies and bind powers beyond mortal comprehension. She inhaled deeply, the scent of aged parchment, dust, and latent magic filling her senses.Her mind was not on the dust or the aged ink but on Therrin. That girl—so eager, so malleable—had proven herself far more susceptible than expected. Every glance, every hesitant touch, every fleeting moment of curiosity was cataloged, analyzed, and stored for later use. The Mistress smiled, a slow, deliberate curl of her lips. Seduction and discipline, trust and fear, curiosity and awe—Therrin absorbed it all, entirely unaware

Grimm’s POVGrimm sat perched on the ledge of the cliff, his gaze tracing the horizon where the forest met the sky. The wind tugged at his cloak, but he hardly noticed it. For a moment, he allowed himself the rare luxury of silence—no distractions, no crises, no lives entangled in his careful observations. Just him, alone, with the weight of his own existence pressing down like a stone on his chest.He had walked these lands for centuries, yet each step felt simultaneously familiar and alien. Immortality was a strange companion, neither friend nor enemy, but always present, always judging. He had seen kingdoms rise and fall, empires crumble to dust, and mortals scurry across the earth as if the world belonged solely to them. He had witnessed betrayal, devotion, love, and death—each event a thread in the tapestry of life that he could read, yet never fully intervene in without consequence.And still, the solitude was relentless. Grimm reflected on how long

Dion's POV The cold pressed against my skin like a thousand invisible blades, sharper than any steel. But there was no steel here—only the emptiness where my magic should have been. Stripped away. No glamour to soften the edges, no Fey agility to dodge the invisible strikes. Only raw flesh, vulnerable and exposed. I stood—or rather, I was forced to stand—in a barren plain that stretched beyond sight, under a sky bruised with swirling gray and black. The air tasted of iron and old wounds. Then the visions began. First, the flames. They weren't mine, but I felt their searing heat crawl beneath my skin. Therrin. The memories surged in waves—her fear, the loneliness, the sharp sting of betrayal. Every scream she had swallowed, every tear shed in silence, was etched into the burning flesh of my soul. And then the Thornbrand. I saw it clear: the cruel mark, jagged and deep, branded into her shoulder. My hands tremb

Ciaran's POV The moon had long since risen, silver light filtering through the high canopy of the glade and casting gentle lines across the floorboards of the cabin. Ciaran lay on his back, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other resting between them. Therrin was curled slightly toward him, their breaths in quiet rhythm. She had let him stay. After everything. That alone was enough to root him to the mattress, unmoving, barely daring to breathe too deeply in case it startled her away. At some point in the night, her hand had found his shirt. She hadn't even realized she'd done it—grasping the fabric between her fingers, holding on like something in the dark might try to take her. He hadn't moved. But then came the trembling. At first it was subtle—her breath catching, body tensing, a shift in the air. Ciaran's eyes opened immediately. "Therrin…" he whispered, barely audible.