All Chapters of Bloodbound: The legacy of Serelai : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The walk away from the Obsidian Spire was like stepping out of a cool, dark cave into a blazing afternoon. The world felt too bright, too loud, too much. After the absorbing silence of the Spire, every leaf rustle was a shout, every birdcall a shock. Liora’s senses felt raw, scraped clean.Kael walked beside her, no longer needing to hold her hand. He moved with a new surety, his six-year-old’s body navigating the rough terrain with an unsettling ease. He was their compass, his inner sense tuned not to north or south, but to the throbbing, painful scar in the world that was the chapel.Lyra was quiet, her small pack strapped tightly to her back. She watched her brother with a mixture of awe and a sadness she was too young to name. The silly songs were still locked away inside her, held prisoner by the memory of the curse he had taken for her.They walked for hours, the landscape changing from the strange, patchwork reality around the Spire to the familiar, deep green of the forest. Bu

The world stopped.The vortex was gone. The screaming silence was gone. The only sound was the ragged breathing of six people standing in the ruins of a chapel, under the eye of a bloody moon.The man Kael’s words hung in the air, more solid and terrible than any of the monsters they had faced.It’s the only way.He was looking at the child. At the Anchor.Liora’s body moved before her mind could form a thought. She stepped in front of her son, putting herself between him and the man who shared his name. Her heart was a wild, frantic drum against her ribs. “No,” she said. The word was flat, final. A mother’s law.Ashiel was at her side in an instant, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He didn’t speak. He just was there, a wall of muscle and will. Ronan and Elara closed ranks behind Kael and Lyra, their faces set in identical masks of defiance.The man Kael didn’t move. He just watched them, his expression unreadable. The fanaticism was gone from his eyes, replaced by a weary, almost c

The first rain fell on their new home three days after Finn arrived.It wasn't a storm. It was a gentle, soaking rain that pattered on the repaired wood-shingle roof and washed the dust from the leaves. It was a normal rain. A simple, beautiful thing.Liora stood in the doorway of the cottage, watching it fall. She breathed in the smell of wet earth and pine. It was the most peaceful smell in the world.Behind her, the cottage was warm and full of quiet activity. Ronan was carving a new handle for his axe. Elara was sorting her healing herbs, now dried and stored in little pouches. Finn was sitting at the rough-hewn table, a piece of parchment before him, carefully sketching the layout of the cottage with a piece of charcoal. He was recording their story, starting with this small, quiet chapter.Lyra was sitting by the hearth, a blanket around her shoulders. She was watching the flames, her lips moving silently. She was trying to sing. Liora could see the effort in the tight line of h

The snow fell for three days. It piled up in deep, soft drifts against the cottage, sealing them in a silent, white world. The tracks of the two scouts were gone, buried under a foot of fresh snow. But the memory of their frightened eyes was not so easily covered.The family was trapped, not by the snow, but by the knowledge that they were no longer a secret.Life inside the cottage became a tight, quiet dance. Ronan sharpened his tools repeatedly. Elara reorganised her herbs. Lyra stared out the window at the endless white, her chin resting on her knees. Kael sat by the fire, his eyes closed, but Liora knew he wasn't sleeping. He was listening to the forest, to the world, listening for the sound of the fear he had named.Ashiel was the most restless. He paced the small space, his presence like a caged storm. The memory lapses were now occurring more frequently. Liora would find him staring at a carving on the wall, a bird Ronan had made, with a look of deep confusion."Did I make thi

The cold from the broken window seeped into the small house, a constant, unwelcome guest. Ronan found a piece of scrap wood and nailed it over the hole, but the damage was done. Not just to the window, but to the fragile peace they had been trying to build.The next morning, Alderman Crane came to their door, his kind face etched with worry and apology.“I am deeply sorry for this,” he said, looking at the boarded-up window. “The child who threw the rock has been spoken to. His family is… ashamed.”“Spoken to?”Ashiel’s voice was dangerously quiet. “A rock through a window where children sleep is not a matter for ‘speaking.’”Crane flinched.“What would you have me do? Lock up a frightened eight-year-old boy? His family lost everything in the chaos. He is terrified of more magic, more change.” He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “Fear makes people do foolish things.”Liora put a hand on Ashiel’s arm, feeling the tense muscle beneath his sleeve. “We understand, Alderman. Thank you