All Chapters of The Binding: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

Aftermath is Louder Than the BattleSaxa The quarry doesn’t feel quiet, it feels stunned. Like the earth is holding its breath after realizing it couldn’t get what it wanted. Dust hangs in the air in a thin veil, drifting through shafts of pale light like ash from a fire that never fully died. The old rusted scaffolds creak when the wind nudges against them, and every sound—every shifting boot, every swallow, every shaky exhale—lands too loud against the stone bowl around us.Soren is on his knees in the dirt, alive. And that should feel like a victory, but my chest won’t accept it. Relief doesn’t settle around me cleanly, it never does anymore. It knots with fear and something worse—recognition. Because the pull is still here. Not yanking and not tearing me sideways the way it did before. It’s just… present.As if the door is standing a few inches open somewhere just behind my eyes, and something on the other side has learned how to watch without moving.I crouch down next to Soren

The brother at the thresholdSaxaThe first howl tears through the house like it’s trying to rip the floorboards up from underneath us. Not wolf, but not human either.It starts low, a strangled sound shoved through clenched teeth and then it breaks into a raw keening wail that claws up through the vents from the cellar and shreds the air in the kitchen.Haldor.He doesn’t say words at first, it's just noise, just pain. But pain is a language all on its own, and I understand every syllable.My hand tightens around the edge of the table, the wood biting into my palm. The glyph under my skin flares in answer, a hot, protesting twist, like it resents being reminded that there are other kinds of cages in this house besides it. Downstairs, something slams against stone.Ingrid is already on her feet, jaw tense, eyes flicking to the cellar door like she’s half a second from breaking it off it hinges. Jana’s grinding hand stills in the mortar. Gran’s shoulders lock. Kaia doesn’t move at al

After the LineSaxaThe clearing doesn't empty all at once, it unravels.Wolves break apart from the circle in slow, dragging motions, like they’re peeling themselves away from something sticky and old. Voices stay low, glances sharp and sideways. Nobody’s laughing, nobody’s relaxed. The air around us has that stunned, too bright feeling of after a lightning strike.Under our feet, the wards hum like they’re trying to remember a new tune.Eirik doesn’t move right away.He stands where he was when he drew the line–shoulders squared, jaw clenched, gaze tracking the pack as they drift back toward the trees, the houses, the routines that don’t fit right anymore.Some of them avoid looking at him, more of them avoid looking at me. My wolf is tired and wired at the same time, pacing slow circles inside of my ribs. My throat feels raw, like I’ve been shouting for hours instead of… speaking. Just speaking.“You did well,” gran murmurs at my shoulder.I snort, “I blasphemed in public Gran.”“

The Edge of PeaceSaxaThe cold shouldn’t feel this far away.Eirik turns his head aside for one heartbeat, respectful, then lies back in the snow as if he refuses to let shame dictate the terms of this moment. It makes something in my chest loosen.The snow bites, my skin puckers. Every nerves feels awake, alive—and somehow, being here like this doesn’t feel exposed in the wrong way. It feels like the truth.We breathe together, steam, silence, the ache in my bones softens.His head turns toward me. “Still okay?” he whispers, voice quieter than the wind.“Yeah.” I swallow. “You?”He nods, but there’s more behind it–something cautious, hungry, held back by teeth.I roll on my side toward him, he rolls too.The world narrows.We kiss. Not soft this time, not tentative. The warmth rushes in so fast it’s dizzying—his mouth firm, deliberate, full of all the things he’s tried not to say out loud. I gasp into it, my fingers sliding up his shoulder, into his dark hair, clutching because I su

The Line We RefuseSaxaWe don’t find Leif.Jana does.One minute Kaia is muttering over the map of ward-lines on the kitchen table, her finger tracing invisible fault points, and the next–The front door slams hard enough to rattle the frames.Cold air punches down the hallway.“Inside,” Jana snaps.Not shouting, commanding.Leif stumbles through the doorway ahead of her, snow dusting his shoulders. He looks… collected, too collected. Like he walked in under his own power.Except he didn’t.Her fist is wrapped tight in the back of his jacket, knuckles white, dragging him like he’s a disobedient pup. Gran and Ingrid rush in right behind them, breath sharp, cheeks flushed from running.Kaia straightens slowly. The hum of the wards tightens—not louder, just more alert—like the house itself braces.“Sit,” Jana says.Leif opens his mouth.She doesn’t let him speak. “I said sit.”He sits. The kitchen chair creaking under his weight. His hands fold politely on the table as if this is a conv