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Chapter 89: Shadows of Defiance
Last Updated:
2025-04-01 00:58:30
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The Blood Bound Legacy Chapter 90: The Spirit That Lives in My Body
Then we kill her are words I repeated in my head long after I said them.The room was quiet, heavy with questions that had not been asked, fears that had gone unspoken. I could practically feel the weight of everyone’s gaze boring down on me—Maxwell’s barely-contained tension, Jameson’s wary curiosity, the cold calculation of Soraya. But above all, I could feel the thing inside me.Watching.Waiting.Maxwell was the first to ring in the silence. “Lena… do you know what that means?”I swallowed hard. “I know exactly what it stands for.”His jaw clenched. “Do you?” He moved in closer, his voice dropping to something gentler, something naked. “Because if she’s inside you, if this thing is tied to you now — how do you separate yourself from her? How do you poison what is tied up in your bones?”A chill ran down my spine.That’s because I didn’t have an answer to that.Soraya folded her arms, her face inscrutable. “We don’t really know what she wants yet.”Jameson scoffed. “We believe, and
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The evening continued, weighed down by smoke and fatigue. None of us talked as we trudged more profoundly into the woods, deep breaths audible in the stillness. The fight was over, but the heaviness, the weight of it clung to me like a hand on my ribs, a fist.We had gotten away, but not because we were stronger. Not because we had won.We were free because he set us free.That idea was seared into my brain, repeating over and over again, only to contort into something that made me nauseous.Maxwell walked next to me, trudging slower than normal, his hand shoved against his injured side. He winced every couple of steps, but he would pretend he was fine when I looked.“Stop glaring,” he muttered.“I’m not glaring.”He huffed a laugh. “You have that look. The one in which you’re blaming yourself for things that aren’t your fault.”I was blaming myself. How could I not?I had led them into this. I had thought we were ready. That we could fight. That we had a chance.Instead, I had only b
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The atmosphere in the ruins was dense, cloaked in thoughts unsaid, expressions unread, and an unbreakable tension. We had decided, we had jumped, but the weight of it was sinking in like a rock pulling us under water.We weren’t simply in it for our lives anymore.We were declaring war.And war meant losses.Maxwell leaned against the broken window, arms crossed, gazing out at the dark horizon. His golden eyes had gone distant, his jaw set. He wasn’t speaking, but I could sense his thoughts. The way I could feel my heartbeat hammering on the other side of my ribs.I took a breath. “We need to start planning.”No one moved at first.Then Jameson scoffed. “You don’t waste time, huh?”I met his gaze. “We’re moving fast and not wasting time.”Lilith grinned and flicked a knife between her fingers as she reclined against the wall. “She’s right. The Council is regrouping already. We can’t just wait around and hope they’ll waver.”For the last few minutes, Bastian had been silent, and now he
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This was a matter of destroying them.I turned to the people standing before me—my people. Each of them had put everything on the line to stand with me and fight a fight that was no longer mine. And yet I could see it in their faces. The gravity of what we were about to do. The reality of it sinking in.Bastian blew out a breath and rubbed a hand over his face. “So you mean to tell me. Our objective is to infiltrate one of the most secure vaults ever built, steal their secrets, and then... what? Pray they don’t just kill us right away?”Jameson smiled, raising his arms behind his head. “I mean, that’s probably about right.”Soraya shot him a glare. “That’s not a plan. That’s suicide.”Maxwell moved next to me, his golden eyes fixed on the flames. “The Council’s greatest weapon isn’t their army. It’s the illusion of control. People don’t rebel against them, because they think it can’t be done. They think the Council is omnipotent, above all.”I nodded, my throat tight. “But if we can p
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The torches flickered against the towering stone walls of my father’s estate, casting long, shifting shadows across the ground. The place looked the same as when I left—cold, imposing, untouched by time. But I wasn’t the same.I didn’t belong here anymore.Maxwell rode beside me in silence, his presence grounding me as we approached the front gates. Two guards stiffened at the sight of us, their hands twitching toward their weapons. But when their gazes landed on me, something in their postures shifted.Recognition. Uncertainty. Fear.One of them cleared his throat. “Miss Weber.”I reined in my horse, leveling him with a steady gaze. “Open the gates.”The other guard hesitated. “Your father—”“Will want to see me.”There was no room for argument in my voice.They exchanged a look before one of them finally turned and signaled the sentries above. The great iron gates creaked open, revealing the long stone pathway that led to the grand estate at the heart of the compound.Maxwell leaned
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The world around me blurred. The room, the firelight dancing in the stone walls, the heavy weight of my father’s words like a stifling fog spreading over me — none of it felt real anymore.She’s not your mother anymore.They broke her.They made her a weapon.I heard the words, but couldn’t process them. I didn’t want to.She was alive. I had seen her. I had touched her. Her voice had broken when she said my name, and her body had quaked when I held her. That wasn’t a mindless puppet’s response. That was real. That was her.And yet…My father had never been a liar, A survivor, a man who always kept an eye on the bigger picture, but not a liar.So , which truth was I meant to believe?“No, you’re wrong,” I whispered, my throat raw.My father didn’t react. He just stood there, shoulders squared, expression grim, as if he’d been waiting for me to say that.“Lena — ” Maxwell began, and I shook my head.“No.” I looked at my father, my hands balling into fists. “You don’t know her the way I
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Outside, the wind was howling, rattling the wooden beams of the old safehouse, but inside it was suffocatingly quiet. We were supposed to have a plan — or at least the beginnings of one — but the weight of it lay heavy in my chest.”My mother, an enforcer. My mother, shattered and stitched back together into something else. That thought turned my stomach.I gazed around the faces around me—my father, Maxwell, Lilith, Jameson, and Bastian. Each came with a different flavor of wariness. Maxwell’s was the split and the gentle, the one that came accompanied by worry. Lilith was harsh, full of skepticism. Jameson was calculating, always on the lookout for the next move. Bastian just looked tired.And my father…He looked like a man who’d already mourned my mother once and was getting ready to do it all over again.I wouldn’t let that happen.I stood my ground and cleared my throat. “We move at dawn.”Lilith raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? That’s the grand plan?”I exhaled through my nose. “
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It was a quiet night, but inside me, a storm was raging. Sleep would not come, and with it, I was alone with my thoughts and the horror of what was to come. It was a momentary resort to my senses in the dimly lit study, a candle flickered on the desk, casting long shadows around the wide room.The house was silent. Everyone had either gone to bed or was pretending to be. I knew better. Maxwell was probably pacing in his room, his annoyance barely held in check. My father was awake, too, though he’d never say so. He never slept when things were in flux, and nothing was in greater flux right now than what tomorrow might hold.A knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. I looked back, expecting to see Maxwell or my father; it was my mother. Her gaze was sharp but unreadable, and she entered without asking.“You need to be resting,” she replied.“So should you.”She closed the door behind her with a sigh. “I know what you’re thinking.“Do you?”She didn’t reply right away. Instead, she c
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The Blood Bound Legacy Chapter 119: The Hollow Below
The staircase swallowed sound. Each step down stripped the world of something familiar—first the light, then the warmth, then the sense of time. Maxwell moved close behind me, but even his breathing sounded distant, muffled by the oppressive weight of the descent.The deeper we went, the more I could feel it pressing inward. Like the walls weren’t made of stone at all, but of memory. Of something waiting.I touched the glyphs that flickered faintly along the tunnel’s edge, symbols glowing for only a heartbeat before vanishing. This wasn’t language. It was a warning. Or maybe confession.Maxwell’s voice was barely audible behind me. “Lena… if this place changes you…”I stopped and turned slightly, enough to catch his shadow. “You’ll remind me.”“I’ll drag you out.”I wanted to believe that was possible. I wanted to believe anything could drag me out if I stepped too far.After what felt like hours, the staircase ended in a wide, circular chamber. The floor was smooth, unlike the rest o
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By first light, we were already moving. The path to the ruins cut through dense, brittle woods. Nature had reclaimed much of the road, ivy curling up through cracked stone, tree roots splitting once-paved ground. But I remembered the way, at least what remained of it. I remembered walking it as a child, held by my father's hand, back when the Sanctum was still alive before the seals had started to hum. Before they began to break.Now, only one seal remained.And it was buried somewhere beneath the rubble we were heading toward.Maxwell kept pace beside me, silent but alert. He hadn’t said much since we left camp. Neither had I. There wasn’t much left to say that hadn’t already been whispered in firelight the night before. We both knew what this place meant, not just to us, but to the shape of everything still to come.When the Sanctum came into view, I felt the breath leave my lungs.It was worse than I remembered.The outer arch had collapsed. The great doors—once carved with runes t
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The path out of the chapel felt longer than the one going in. With each step, the world outside seemed more fragile, like reality itself was bruised, discolored by something unseen. Maxwell walked just behind me, quiet but watchful. He didn’t need to speak; his presence was enough—solid, grounding. Still, I felt the echo of the woman with my face in every shadow we passed.“Do you think she’s still watching?” I asked as we reached the treeline.Maxwell didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”I glanced back toward the chapel, half-expecting to see her silhouette in the stained-glass remnants, but the ruins stood empty. Still, the space didn’t feel abandoned. It felt paused.“You believe she’s waiting for me to break,” I said.“I think she needs you to,” he replied. “But I also think she underestimated you.”I smiled faintly. “She knows me better than anyone.”“Not better than me,” he said.That hit harder than I expected. I wanted to believe him. I almost did. But the version of me I had seen—fierce,
The Blood Bound Legacy Chapter 116: Between What Is and What Might Be
We didn’t speak for a long time after she vanished. The chapel returned to silence, but it wasn’t peace—it was the kind of silence that settles in after something sacred is broken.Maxwell stayed near the altar, his blade still unsheathed, like she might return at any second. I sat where I was, hands slack in my lap, head low, like I’d just walked out of my funeral.“You okay?” he finally asked.“No,” I said honestly. “But I’m aware. For once.”He lowered the blade. “That wasn’t just a vision, was it?”“No. She was real.”Max sat down across from me. “So what do we do about a version of you who’s already made all the choices you’re still questioning?”I didn’t answer at first. My mind was still parsing the confrontation, reliving each word, the heat behind her eyes, the way she moved like certainty was oxygen. “You remember how I told you the first seal cracked in my dreams?”“Yeah.”“Well, she’s been dreaming through them, too. But from the other side. I don’t think she was just born
The Blood Bound Legacy Chapter 115: The Girl With My Face
I didn’t speak. Couldn’t.She stood there—my copy, my mirror, my nightmare made flesh—with her chin lifted like she’d known this meeting was inevitable. Her eyes burned gold. Not flickering. Not unstable. Constant. They glowed like a sun that had stopped pretending it needed a sky.Maxwell moved in front of me on instinct. I stepped around him.“I need to see her,” I whispered.My father, James, watched me like he saw two daughters at once. There was grief in his face, but not surprise. “She’s been waiting for you.”The copy—no, not a copy. A version—tilted her head. “You’re smaller than I remember.”Her voice was my voice. But colder. Like it had been tempered by flame and sharpened by time.“I don’t remember you at all,” I replied.She smirked. “That’s because I made different choices.”My stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”She stepped forward, slow and deliberate. The light around her pulsed as she moved, like reality was trying to decide whether or not to obey her.James raised
The Blood Bound Legacy Chapter 114: A Map of Ash and Memory
We didn’t head back to the estate. Not yet.I needed space. Distance. The kind of silence that doesn’t come from isolation, but from being far enough from expectation that you can breathe again. Maxwell didn’t ask questions when I turned the path away from home. He just walked beside me, blade on his hip, eyes always scanning the horizon.It was late afternoon when we found the old chapel.Or what was left of it.It was half-swallowed by the earth, the roof caved in, ivy crawling up through cracked stone like veins across a dying body. The stained-glass windows were mostly shattered, but one remained intact—a single panel showing a wolf curled around a glowing star. I didn’t recognize the symbol.But it felt… familiar.We stepped inside.Dust clung to the air, heavy and undisturbed. The pews were rotted through, the altar split by lightning or something like it. But there was peace here, buried under ruin. The kind that comes after fire takes everything and leaves only the truth behin
The Blood Bound Legacy Chapter 113: Aftershards
The sound was indescribable.When the blade struck the reflection—my reflection—there was no crash of glass, no thunderclap. Instead, it was a note, low and aching, like the end of a song that had gone on too long. The mirror didn’t just break; it folded. Inward. Like a memory being erased.I stumbled back, chest heaving, the blade still warm in my grip. For a moment, I thought the world might come undone around me. The fog screamed, then vanished all at once, sucked into the broken mirror as if it had never belonged here.Then silence.Maxwell caught me by the arm as my knees nearly gave. “You okay?”“I don’t know.” I blinked at the place where the mirror had been. Only scorched stone remained, and a faint scent—smoke, salt, and something old.The woman—the one who claimed to have worn my reflection—watched it disappear with no satisfaction. Her gaze was heavy and unreadable.“What just happened?” Maxwell asked her. “What did she destroy?”She looked at me. “She destroyed the future
The Blood Bound Legacy Chapter 112: Reflections of Choice
We both turned back toward the reflection.It stared at me now with eerie calm, and slowly, almost gently, its mouth began to move again.“You’re still clinging to the idea that you’re separate. That there’s a choice.”“There is,” I snapped aloud, fury flashing in my chest like a flare.The reflection’s face tilted, amused. Then it said,“If there were, you wouldn’t still be standing here.”A tremor rippled through the ground. The obsidian cracked wider beneath our feet.Maxwell’s breath was ragged. “This is a trap, Lena. A designed one. It's feeding on your doubt.”“But what if it’s not just doubt?” I whispered. “What if it’s the truth?”He stepped in front of me. “Then we fight it. You don’t owe that thing your fear.”The ground split between us and the mirror. A fissure formed like a mouth trying to swallow the space whole.And then—suddenly—another voice.“Step back, both of you.”I turned sharply.From the fog came a woman. Cloaked in deep gray, her presence humming with ancient
The Blood Bound Legacy Chapter 111: The Third Voice
We’d only been walking for a few hours when the fog rolled in.It was fast—unnatural. One minute, the trees were visible, gnarled and skeletal, looming overhead. Next, everything was swallowed by a thick, soundless gray. I couldn’t even see Maxwell, though I could still feel him close—his presence like a current in the still air.“Don’t move,” I said quietly. “Something’s wrong.”“Yeah,” his voice came, low and tight. “This isn’t weather. It’s intentional.”And then it happened.I heard it.Not Elara’s voice. Not the thing from Marston.A third voice.Clear. Sharp. Feminine. But empty, as if spoken through layers of broken glass.“Gate. Fracture. Flame. Do you know which one you are today?”I froze. “Max, did you hear that?”His breath hitched. “Yeah. And Lena? It sounded like you.”I turned in the fog, spinning slowly. “That wasn’t me.”But then the voice came again, louder this time, closer.“You run from the seal, but you are the crack. You fear the fire, but you are its breath. Yo
