All Chapters of Bloodbound: The legacy of Serelai : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

The chapel smelled of dust and blood. The scent hung heavy in the air like old secrets, filling every crack in the stones.The broken walls groaned softly in the cold morning. On the ruined floor, piles of ash twitched as if something still breathed inside them, while thin ribbons of steam rose like ghosts, drifting quietly upwards.The pale morning light came through shattered stained glass. It was weak but sharp, catching on jagged pieces scattered on the ground. Reds and blues lay broken, dull and lifeless on the dusty stone. The silence wasn’t really silence, it was a weight pressing down on everyone, making every breath seem loud.Liora stared at her bare palm. It was empty. Her skin was smooth and pale, only trembling with her own fingers’ shake. The mark that had burned there, her curse, her guide, was gone.But the real emptiness was inside her chest. The silence there was too complete, it wasn’t just a space; it was like being buried alive, sealed away from her own light. Not

The chapel was burning, but the fire wasn’t the worst thing inside.The statues moved.At first, they just twitched, like stone cracking in the heat, then their feet scraped the floor, loud enough to echo in the ruins. Their arms bent with a grinding noise that made Liora’s teeth hurt. One statue lifted its head, its crystal eyes glowing bright. Its jaw opened, dropping dust like sand.The statues were alive.Liora stumbled back, holding the journal tight, her breath came fast, like she was drowning. Wolves circled, hunters fought, walls broke, but the statues’ glowing eyes on her made everything else fade.Ash jumped in front of her, holding his poker up, standing like a wall. “Stay behind me!” His voice was rough, choked with smoke.Kael stood on her other side, his knife wet with wolf blood. He looked ready to fight, but his eyes were on her, not the monsters. “Don’t let it control you, Liora. Whatever it shows you, fight it.”But she couldn’t. The journal burned hotter, glowing

Liora was kneeling, the rough cold chapel floor pressed into her skin. The air was thick, filled with the smell of blood, smoke, and wet wolf fur. She could taste the coppery bite; her mouth tasted like blood. She’d bitten her cheek hard enough to draw blood.A part of that old journal in her hand, that was hot and alive before, was now cold and heavy, like a dead thing, like a heavy paperweight. The real world came back too fast, loud, and sharp after her awful vision.The real world came back too fast, it was too bright, too loud, too real after the terrible silent movie that had just played out in her head.The statues were still on their knees, quietly frozen in place. The wolves whined softly, pressed to the floor in submission. The hunters from both sides stared at her, their faces a frozen picture, full of shock, fear, and greed.But now she saw everything differently, through the vision’s scary lens. The statues weren’t bowing to her; they were a patient army, they were wa

The horn’s cry didn’t stop, it hung in the air, a single, vibrating note that froze the world in place. It was a sound that didn’t just reach the ears; it seeped into the cracks of the broken chapel, the stones of the statues, and the marrow of everyone who heard it. It was the sound of an ending.Then more horns answered, from every direction, from the north, south, east, west, they closed in like a trap.The wolves lay flat, their whines stopping. Fear filled their eyes, deeper than any whip or sword could cause. They weren’t hunters anymore, they were hunted.Gorven’s face was pale wax. “They’re here,” he breathed. All his arrogance was gone, stripped away by that sound. His men huddled together, their black swords suddenly looking like toys in their hands.Alistair’s face was hard, but his eyes were sharp.” Block the window! Barricade the door! This isn’t a fight, it’s a siege! We need to survive until dawn!”His hunters moved fast, but they were scared, their hands shaky as they

The warm, glowing stone in Liora’s hand felt like a tiny sun, it was the first thing she’d done with her power that didn’t end in breaking, burning, or bleeding. It was just… warmth. A simple, gentle warmth. The cold presence inside her was quiet, not asleep, but happy, like a well-fed cat.Hope, fragile and new, bloomed in her chest.It was shattered by a sound that was not a horn.It was a voice.It came from everywhere and nowhere, carried on the wind whispering through the broken shutters. It was a beautiful, terrible voice, singing a wordless melody that was both a lullaby and a funeral dirge. It was the same humming they’d heard at the chapel, but now it had a focus, as if it were searching.Ronan’s head snapped up, his silver eyes widening. “No,” he breathed. “So soon.”“What is it?” Ash asked, his hand going back to his knife, his body tensing for a fight that wasn’t there.“The Singer,” Ronan said, his voice serious. “It doesn’t claw or possess, it calls. It calls until you w