All Chapters of Shadowbound Flame: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Sierra’s POVAge 7 · Fortress of CinderfallThere was blood on the stone again.Not hers, this time.He lay crumpled at her feet, breathing shallow, lips cracked but still curved in that soft, knowing smile—the kind that made her believe the darkness might one day break.“Do it!” her father’s voice cut through the chamber, slow and poisonous. “Kill the traitor, Vaelira. Or I’ll have you flayed and fed to the hatchlings.”She was seven. Starving. And with the promise of a thick, juicy steak, her tiny hands clutched the ceremonial blade. Knuckles white. Arms shaking. Freckles burned from the fire-laced slap she’d taken for hesitating.“Come on, little ember,” the king cooed, each word venom-wrapped. “He betrayed you. Lied to you. Promised escape—and brought you nothing but weakness and misery. Make me proud.”She didn’t look at him.She looked at the boy on the floor. Older. Taller. Pale from lack of sun. His eyes—soft, grey eyes—never left

Sierra’s POVThe bell rang, sharp and jarring, but Sierra didn’t move.Not at first.She stayed seated, hands tight in her lap, knuckles pale against the wooden desk. Each breath was shallow, clipped, measured so precisely it might have fooled anyone into thinking she was calm. But calm was a lie, a mask she’d perfected over years of running and hiding. Inside, her chest throbbed, her heart slamming against her ribs like it wanted out.Around her, the classroom buzzed with the fading chaos of students packing up. Desks scraped against the floor, whispers darted like minnows across the surface of her awareness, and chairs scraped back with the casual carelessness of those who had no storms raging behind their eyes. One by one, the room emptied, absorbed in gossip and games that didn’t matter. One by one, she waited. Until the last giggle faded. Until the door clicked softly shut. Until the silence settled over the room like a heavy blanket. Only then did she move.

Sierra’s POVThe walk back to the changing rooms felt longer than it should have.Every step throbbed through her cheek, the sting from Elara’s hit fading into a deep, bruised ache. But the pain wasn’t what kept her jaw clenched. It was the way her magic had woken beneath her skin—restless, prowling, whispering half-formed words she couldn’t quite understand. The shadows were like smoke inside her veins, heavy and hot, curling around her ribs as though eager to spill free if she loosened her grip for even a moment.Her mind was a storm. Thoughts collided, scattered, sharpened.Why did he step in?Why did it matter to him?And why… why did my name sound different when he said it? Softer, like it belonged to him somehow?The corridor ahead buzzed with laughter. The others filtered out in groups, already recounting the match as if it had been nothing more than a game. Their normalcy grated against her nerves. Every word they spoke was shallow, fleetin

Malick’s POVHe didn’t follow the crowd when the bell rang. Didn’t grab his bag. Didn’t care that his shirt clung to him with sweat from the match. Malick walked the opposite direction—down a side corridor and straight into the bones of the Academy, where light thinned and whispers echoed too long.Something inside him had snapped.Maybe it was the shadows. Maybe it was her voice—half-forgotten, half-sung—in Old Shadowborne. Or maybe it was the way their darknesses had tangled like they knew each other. Like they’d danced together in another life.“Sierra Vale,” he muttered under his breath, fangs barely hidden in the shape of her name. The syllables curled around his tongue like a secret he wasn’t meant to say out loud. “Who the fuck are you?”He could still see her—the cut of her jaw, the bruised flush on her cheek, the fire in her eyes when she thought no one was watching. She wasn’t just some tortured loner. That much was clear. Whatever she was… she was

Sierra’s POV“Welcome, students,” said Professor Nivah, her voice clipped and musical, each syllable ringing sharp against the rune-carved walls. “Today, you will meet the soul-bound creature your magic resonates with. A true reflection of your essence—your deepest magic, your most dangerous self.”The words dropped like stones into Sierra’s chest.The Familiar Trials were held in a circular amphitheater of rune-marked stone, its walls crawling with shifting glyphs that pulsed faintly in time with the students’ collective nerves. Soft violet torches lit the arena, throwing the shadows too long, too alive. In the centre, a vast summoning circle gleamed faintly as if it had a pulse of its own—waiting, hungry.Nivah’s robes whispered as she moved, a dozen silver stones rising from her satchel to hover above her palms. Each hummed softly, vibrating in a way that set Sierra’s teeth on edge.“Place the stone in the centre of the summoning circle when your name is