Semua Bab Bound to the Enemy’s Bed: Bab 131 - Bab 140

Silence woke her first.Not the silence of death or peace, but the kind that presses down so thickly it bends the air — the silence that follows an explosion too vast for sound to survive.Elaria opened her eyes to light.Not sunlight, not firelight — but a pale, breathing radiance that shimmered like water even though no source of it existed. The ground beneath her was glass-smooth, reflecting a sky that wasn’t there. Every breath she took tasted like memory: smoke, rain, the warmth of Kael’s hand, the iron tang of Draven’s blood. Each exhale carried something away she couldn’t name.She sat up slowly, her pulse thudding in her ears.The world was… wrong.Hills that weren’t really hills rose and sank like the backs of sleeping beasts, dissolving into mist before re-forming again. A forest of silver trees hovered in the distance, their roots dangling above the mirrored earth like they’d been torn out of their soil and suspended mid-breath. Rivers ran backward, defying gravity, carryin

The world had no edges anymore. Only breath and pulse and the echo of names that no longer belonged to mouths.Elaria came awake not in a place, but in a memory that was trying to remember itself. She lay suspended within a half-formed sky, clouds unraveling into threads of glass and colorless fire, all drifting through her fingertips. When she moved, the air rippled — and behind every ripple, a thousand mirrored selves blinked and vanished, as though she were being dreamed by someone else.She didn’t know how long she had been asleep. Time felt circular here, looping back on itself like a serpent eating its tail. Her body — if she even had one — was weightless, translucent, woven from the same light that hummed beneath her palms. Every heartbeat sent quiet shudders across the void.“Kael?” she whispered. The name carried outward like smoke — soft, unanchored — and dissolved before it reached any horizon.Then, softer still, “Draven.”The second name stirred something deeper, like a h

The silver light did not die. It lingered like a memory too stubborn to fade, spilling across the fractured void where Elaria now stood. Each step she took made the ground ripple beneath her feet, not with motion but with hesitation, as if the world itself were unsure of her right to exist in this place. Her body felt weightless and heavy at the same time, tethered to nothing, held only by the pulse of her own breath — or what she thought was her breath.She opened her mouth to call Kael, Draven, someone — anyone — and found her voice had become a whisper inside a whisper. Words echoed, stretched, then broke apart, leaving only the sensation of sound without sense. Her reflection appeared across the shattered plane, but it was not her. It was her, yes, but not entirely. Its eyes were too black, too knowing. Its lips curved in a gentle, mocking smile that mirrored all she feared she could not hold onto.“Elaria,” it said, the sound both hers and someone else’s, a voice layered over a m

Elaria awoke in silence that was not silence. It pressed against her like water and air compressed into one impossible substance. There was no horizon, no floor, no ceiling—only the endless pulse of existence folded inward, wrapping her in a womb of fractured light. She opened her eyes and found herself floating, or perhaps falling, through threads of memory that bent around her like liquid glass.She tried to call out, but her voice became a ripple across the world itself, a sound that hummed through the air and reverberated back into her chest. It was Kael. It was Draven. It was both and neither. The voice reached her, sweet and familiar, brushing against the edges of her mind like a hand she had trusted once, long ago.“Elaria,” it said, soft, coaxing, like the gentle promise of dawn. “You are here. You are safe. Can you hear me?”Tears pricked her eyes as she clutched at nothing, reaching for them, reaching for what was gone. “Kael? Draven?” Her words dissolved before she could fi

The first thing Elaria felt was pressure.Not pain. Not heat.Pressure—dense and tidal, like a world trying to inhale her.She wasn’t certain she existed yet.Form was still returning to her in pieces: fingertips, then breath, then the faint suggestion of ribs knitting themselves back into a coherent idea of a body. She hovered in the half-place between reality and un-reality—the raw edge where memory became law and law dissolved back into possibility.Then she heard it again.Knock.A single, clean strike echoing through the shapeless dark.She froze.The void rippled around her like ink stirred by a finger. Sound should not have traveled here. Not unless something else was in the dark with her.A second knock followed—this one deeper, resonating through what felt like bone despite her not being fully made of bone yet.KNOCK.She flinched. The pressure around her tightened, as though the world itself feared the sound.Her eyes—only half-formed—opened at last.The void was no longer e