All Chapters of Bloodbound: The legacy of Serelai : Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

The real air was a shock. It was thin and cold, and it tasted of dust and the faint, ever-present sweetness of the Grey Sorrow, but it was free. It moved. It wasn't recycled and pumped through metal vents. Liora took a deep, shuddering breath, filling her lungs with the bitter, beautiful taste of the outside world.They stood in the narrow canyon, hidden from view. Above them, the sky was a dull, uniform grey, not the soft grey of clouds, but a hard, flat grey that seemed to press down on the land. The Citadel's pollution. The sun was a pale, watery disc behind the haze.The children, who had been so brave in the dark, now seemed small and lost in the vast, open desolation. They clung to Elara and Cade, their eyes wide."We made it," Cade whispered, as if saying it too loud would make it untrue."Nowhere near far enough," Ronan grunted, his eyes scanning the high canyon walls. "They'll have aerial patrols. Drones. We're exposed here."Liora looked down at the Seed in her hands. It pul

The next two days in the Stone Canyon were a strange, suspended time. For the children from the Citadel, it was a waking dream. They slept on soft furs, ate real food that had flavor and texture, and were surrounded by people who smiled and laughed. The constant, low-grade terror that had been their normal life began to recede, replaced by a tentative wonder.For the adults, it was a time of planning and painful recovery. Liora spent hours with Anya and the elders, learning everything she could about the Citadel's underlevels from their ancient, hand-drawn maps. The stories spoke of the "Root-Rivers," a network of natural aquifers and geothermal vents that snaked beneath the Citadel's foundations. The Rememberers believed one of these rivers ran directly beneath the First Garden.Ronan trained with the Rememberer hunters. They were not soldiers in the Citadel sense. They moved like ghosts, using the terrain as a weapon. They taught him how to read the wind, how to walk without sound,

The world turned purple. The Song-Eater's beam was a wave of absolute nothingness, a vacuum for the soul. Where it touched the front lines of Rememberers, their faces didn't register pain. They just… emptied. The fierce light in their eyes winked out. The set of their shoulders, the grip on their spears, it all went slack. They stood like dolls whose strings had been cut, their memories, their courage, their very identities siphoned away into the machine's hungry maw.Anya screamed, a raw sound of grief and rage. "Hold the line! Do not look at the light!"But it was too late. The wave of amnesia swept forward. The Rememberers' formation, built on centuries of shared history and trust, began to crumble into a mob of confused, terrified individuals. They forgot their training. They forgot their purpose. They forgot each other.Liora watched in horror, her own mind reeling from the psychic backlash. It was the Hush, but magnified a thousand times. This wasn't just silence; it was unravel

The light did not fade. It grew.It poured from the world-tree, a gentle, inexorable tide of gold that filled the First Garden until every shadow was banished. It flowed up through the roots of the Citadel, and where it touched the cold, grey metal, the metal warmed. It did not melt or break. It simply… changed. The harsh angles softened. The sterile surfaces began to show a faint, wood-like grain. Wires and conduits hardened and transformed into something that looked like living vine, pulsing with a soft, inner light.The change was not violent. It was a reclamation. The Citadel was not being destroyed. It was being reminded of what it was made from. It was remembering it was part of the world.Liora stood with her family, watching the miracle unfold. She felt the Balance flowing through her, not as a separate power, but as her own bloodstream. She was a conduit for the world’s joy.Lyra wriggled out of Cade’s arms and ran to the world-tree. She placed her small hands on its now-glea

The journey east was different from any they had taken before. The land was healing, but here, the scars were older and ran deeper. The golden light of the Heartwood was a faint whisper on the wind, struggling against a legacy of salt and sorrow.They traveled as a family, but they were not alone. A small group of Wardens, led by Ronan, accompanied them for protection. Iara, whose knowledge of the old maps was unmatched, came as their guide. And Lyra, now twelve, walked with a quiet purpose, her head constantly tilted, listening to the discordant note that grew louder with every step.After two weeks of travel, the air changed. It grew heavy and damp, carrying a sharp, salty tang. The tough, resilient grasses of the inland plains gave way to twisted, wind-sculpted trees and tough, grey-green shrubs that clung to the rocky soil.Then, they crested a final hill, and the Salt-Sunk City lay before them.It was not a city in ruins. It was a city in a state of arrested decay. It was built o