Death Bound (The Soulsworn Chronicles #1)

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

The darkness of sleep had pulled me under, wrapping me in its heavy embrace. But within that darkness, a soft, familiar light began to emerge, pulling me toward it. I was back in the crypts, the cold air biting at my skin, the dim light of the ever-burning torches casting long shadows on the ancient stone walls. But instead of the usual sense of dread that accompanied my memories of that place, there was a warmth, a comfort that I hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime.

Princess Aeliana was there, sitting beside me on the cold stone floor, her long white hair spilling over her shoulders like a river of moonlight. She was smiling, that gentle, patient smile that had always made the darkest corners of the crypt feel a little less cold. Her hand rested lightly on my shoulder, a touch so familiar that it brought a pang of longing to my chest.

“Are you ready?” she asked, her voice soft, like the rustle of leaves in the wind. In her hands, she held an old, worn book, its cover faded from years of use.

I nodded, though my heart ached at the sight of her, so close yet so far away. “I’m ready,” I replied, the words almost catching in my throat.

Aeliana opened the book, her fingers moving delicately over the pages as if they were something sacred. “You’re getting better, you know,” she said, her tone warm and encouraging. “Soon, you’ll be able to read anything you want.”

I looked at the words on the page, the strange, elegant script that had once seemed so foreign to me. I could read now—because of her. Because she had taken the time, had been patient with me, had believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself.

“You always keep your promises,” she said. “You said you would learn to read, and you did. You’ve always been like that, Elara. You don’t just say things—you do them.”

I looked up at Aeliana, my heart tightening as her gaze met mine. There was something more in her eyes, something deeper—like she was trying to tell me something without saying it outright.

“You’ve always been strong,” she continued, her voice a soft melody in the stillness of the crypt. “Stronger than you realize. It’s one of the things I admire most about you.”

I swallowed hard, the memory of all the promises I’d made to her crashing down on me. The promise to learn to read, to protect her, to never leave her side. I’d kept those promises, every one of them. But in the end, it hadn’t been enough. I hadn’t been able to save her.

“I tried,” I whispered. “I tried so hard, Aeliana. But I couldn’t ? —”

“Shh,” she interrupted, her hand tightening on my shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could. More than anyone else would have done.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked down at the book in my lap, the letters blurring together. “But I didn’t save you. I promised I would protect you, and I failed.”

Aeliana shook her head, her expression tender. “You didn’t fail me, Elara. You gave me something I never had before—hope. You made me feel alive in a place filled with death. And that’s something no one else could have done.”

“I still feel like I should have done more. I should have ? —”

“Listen to me,” she said. “You gave me everything you had, and more. And now… now you need to keep one more promise for me.”

I looked up at her, my heart pounding. “What promise?”

Aeliana smiled, that warm, loving smile that had always made me feel safe. “Promise me you won’t give up. No matter what happens, no matter how hard things get, promise me you’ll keep fighting. For yourself. For what’s right.”

I stared at her, the words catching in my throat. How could I promise that? How could I keep fighting when everything felt so hopeless?

But then I saw the determination in her eyes, the strength she had always believed I had, and something inside me shifted. I knew I had to keep going. For her. For the memory of the girl who had believed in me when no one else did.

“I promise,” I whispered. “I promise I won’t give up.”

Aeliana’s smile widened, her eyes shining with pride. “That’s my Elara.”

But as the warmth of her presence began to fade, the darkness of the crypt creeping back in, I reached out for her, desperation clawing at my chest. “Aeliana, wait ? —”

But she was already slipping away, the memory dissolving into shadows as I was pulled back to the cold, hard reality of the present.

I woke with a start, my heart racing as the gentle sway of the ship unsettled me. The cold, damp air of the cabin clung to my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth I’d dreamed of—the crypts, my home. But this was no home. The rocking of the ship, the darkness, the endless sea outside—it all felt suffocating. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to calm the wild beat of my heart.

“Elara… Elara, wake up.”

Rhydian’s voice, rough as always, cut through the haze of sleep. I blinked, confusion settling over me as I searched for him. My eyes scanned the dim cabin, the flickering light from the lantern casting eerie shadows across the wooden walls.

The dream had felt so real. But now I was hearing Rhydian’s voice?

“Elara.” His voice again, vibrating through the air like a low hum, though I still couldn’t see him. “I’m using my power,” he said, his words a faint whisper that seemed to wrap around me. “Sound waves. No one else can hear us.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Echoweaving. Rhydian’s talent. I should have known. “Are you alright?” I whispered.

“Yes,” he replied, though there was something strained in his tone. “But we need to stay sharp. Things are getting worse.”

I pushed myself up, the cold air making me shiver as I tried to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. “What do you mean?”

“ Seraph’s Bane ,” he said, the words heavy with a kind of bitterness I hadn’t heard from him before. “The poison. They’re using it here. It’s what the Dragon King’s men rely on to keep nobles weak. It drains magic.”

My heart stilled for a moment, then started pounding again as the realization hit me. “Seraph’s Bane… that’s what they used on the prisoners in Icespire.” My voice trembled with the memory of performing the death rites—those prisoners had been so weak, too docile to fight. “That’s why they couldn’t fight back… they were poisoned.”

“Yes. It’s the same poison. The queen uses it too. It suppresses magic, drains your strength. That’s why the prisoners were like that.”

The taste of bile rose in my throat. “How many are alive?”

“There’s three of us, Bertha included. But it’s about to just be two.”

His silence was a loaded one, and then, finally: “I’ve been dosing myself with small amounts of Seraph’s Bane for years, building up a resistance. It’s the only reason I can still use my power.”

He’d been slowly poisoning himself, preparing for this very kind of moment. What kind of life had Rhydian lived? Where he had to work for an evil queen and poison himself as a mere precaution?

One dose of that poison, and I would be helpless—no powers, no defenses. “What do we do?” I whispered.

There was a pause, longer than usual, and when Rhydian’s voice came again, it was quieter, more controlled. “If you get the chance, run.”

I scoffed. “I can’t very well swim to shore.”

“Then humor him. Do whatever you need to survive.”

“And what about you?” I asked.

“You don’t have the luxury of worrying about Bertha and me.”

I found myself clenching the blanket tighter around me. “I don’t like this, Rhydian.”

“I’ve already managed to get a message to King Ciaran,” Rhydian said, the confidence returning to his voice. “I’ve been working on it since we were captured. Sending waves that far is difficult and drains a lot out of me, so I only use it as a last resort. It’s harder to send sound waves across the ocean, but now we’re close enough. He knows what the Dragon King is planning. Ciaran will come for us.”

Hope quivered in my chest, and for the first time in days, it didn’t feel so distant. “He’ll come for us?”

“I believe so,” Rhydian said. “But we’re not safe yet. Stay focused, don’t draw attention to yourself.”

I nodded, even though I knew he couldn’t see me. The gravity of what we were up against began to settle in, the poison, the Dragon King, everything. “And Bertha?”

“I’ll protect her,” Rhydian said, his tone softening again. “You have my word.”

“I’m not sure your word is worth much, Rhydian. You’re reporting to the queen, remember?”

“I owe you. You don’t need trust when negotiating debts, Elara. I’ll keep us alive. You worry about yourself.”

Just as the words left his lips, the door to my cabin creaked open. The Dragon King strode in, his very presence filling the room with a dark, oppressive energy that made the air feel thicker. His black armor shimmered with the strange, twisted runes etched into it, pulsing with a power that made my skin crawl.

“Come out onto the deck with me,” he commanded.

My heart pounded as I stood, pulling myself together. “Lead the way,” I said, keeping my voice steady, though every nerve in my body was screaming at me to run.

The sea breeze whipped through my hair as I followed the Dragon King onto the deck. The ship rocked gently beneath our feet, and the first light of dawn was beginning to streak the sky with shades of pink and gold. The sight was almost serene, while the man standing beside me was anything but.

He stopped near the edge of the deck, his gaze fixed on the horizon, before turning to face me. “We need to work on your skills,” he said, his tone calm yet commanding. “You want your revenge, but I don’t make a habit of fighting those weaker than me.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze. “I can summon my power when I need it,” I replied, trying to sound confident.

“And it drains you,” he countered, taking a step closer. The distance between us shrank, and I could feel the intensity of his presence, a dark energy that seemed to wrap around him like a cloak. “I know Icespire’s boundary is back up. How many death rites did the queen make you perform? One hundred? Two hundred? It’s weak. Barely enough to keep half a dragon at bay. I bet you were exhausted at the end of each day. No wonder your queen married you off. Icespire needs weapons, but they keep slaughtering their people for a broken shield.”

I couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down my spine. He knew. He knew how much the rituals had taken out of me, how they had drained me until I was a hollow shell of who I used to be.

“Do you want to know how to draw power and not feel strained?” he asked, his voice dropping to a low, almost seductive whisper as he moved even closer.

The temptation in his offer pulled at something deep within me. “Why would you teach someone who wants to kill you?”

A smirk curled his lips, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from my face with a touch that was surprisingly gentle. “Because it’s no fun when my enemy is weak,” he said. “I want a challenge, and right now, you’re not much of one.”

Anger flared in my chest, and I stepped back, away from his touch. “You arrogant?—”

“Strike me,” he interrupted, his tone sharp as steel. His eyes locked onto mine, daring me to do it, daring me to show him what I was capable of.

I couldn’t back down. I had to prove to him—and to myself—that I wasn’t just a pawn in his twisted game. I was more than that. I was someone who could stand up to him, someone who could take him down.

I felt the cold energy of my magic start to build within me, the familiar chill spreading from my core to the tips of my fingers. But this time, I didn’t let it overwhelm me. I focused, drawing on the anger, the grief, the burning need for revenge that had fueled me for so long.

“Strike me,” he repeated.

With a cry of fury, I thrust my hands forward, releasing the power I had summoned. A burst of ice shot from my palms, hurtling toward him with all the force I could muster.

The Dragon King didn’t flinch. With a casual wave of his hand, he countered the attack, his own magic flaring to life as flames erupted in the air, melting the ice before it could touch him.

“Not bad,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “But not good enough.”

I staggered back. The ice had drained me, just as he had predicted, and now I felt weak, vulnerable.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, his smirk widening. “I expected more from you.”

I glared at him, the anger boiling within me again. “Shut up!” I shouted, summoning what little strength I had left.

But before I could try again, he was suddenly in front of me. He grabbed my wrists, pulling me close, his face mere inches from mine.

“You need to learn control,” he whispered. “You need to learn how to draw on your power without letting it drain you. Do that, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll be strong enough to stand against me.”

I could feel his magic, a powerful, overwhelming force that seemed to pulse through the air between us. It was terrifying, and yet… something about it drew me in, made me want to understand it, to harness that same kind of power for myself.

“Strike me again,” he commanded, his grip on my wrists tightening. “And this time, don’t hold back.”

I met his gaze, the challenge burning in his eyes, and despite everything, I felt the faintest flicker of determination. If I was going to survive this, if I was going to take him down, I had to be stronger. I had to learn control.

As I summoned the last vestiges of my strength, I felt the cold energy building within me once more, crackling like ice in my veins. My hands trembled as I focused on the Dragon King, determined to strike him down, to prove that I wasn’t as weak as he believed.

But just as I was about to unleash the power, he moved with lightning speed, closing the distance between us in an instant. Before I could react, he grabbed me by the wrists, his hold firm and unyielding, and pulled me close—too close.

“Stop,” he murmured. “You’re doing it wrong.”

I struggled against his grip, but he held me fast, his body heat seeping into me, mingling with the cold that pulsed from my own power. The contrast was jarring, disorienting, and I felt my focus slipping, my resolve faltering.

“It’s not emotion that fuels your power,” he continued. “You’ve been drawing from grief for the death rites. Rage for combat. But those emotions, as strong as they are, only tap into the surface of your abilities.”

I clenched my teeth, trying to wrench free, but he only tightened his hold, forcing me to stay still, to listen.

“For true power, you must go deeper,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear, making my heart race. “It’s not about feeling more. It’s about feeling nothing at all.”

I froze, the words sinking in, cutting through the fog of anger and fear that clouded my mind. “What… what do you mean?” I stammered.

His fingers trailed down my arms, sending a jolt of sensation through me, but I forced myself to focus on his words. “Emotion is a tool, yes, but it’s also a shackle,” he said, his tone softer now, almost… intimate. “It limits you, chains you to your mortal weaknesses. To reach the deepest well of power, you must let go of all that. Empty yourself. Feel nothing.”

I wanted to argue, to reject the idea that my emotions, my pain, and my anger were holding me back. But something in his voice, in the way he spoke with such certainty, made me pause. Could it be true? Could the very thing that had driven me, that had kept me alive, be the same thing that was limiting me?

“Try again,” he murmured. “But this time, don’t draw on your rage. Don’t let the grief cloud your mind. Clear everything. Feel nothing.”

His words resonated within me, and I closed my eyes, trying to do as he instructed. I forced myself to release the emotions that had been driving me, to push away the grief, the anger, the fear. It was harder than I thought, like tearing away pieces of myself. But as I did, I felt a strange stillness settle over me, a quiet calm that was both unsettling and liberating.

For a moment, there was nothing—no pain, no sorrow, no rage. Just an empty void, a cold silence where my emotions had once raged.

And then, in that absence, I felt it—a surge of power, deeper and more potent than anything I had ever experienced. It wasn’t fueled by my feelings; it was pure, unbridled, and terrifyingly strong. The ice that had once been a struggle to summon now came effortlessly, pooling in my hands, waiting to be unleashed.

I opened my eyes, and the Dragon King was watching me closely, his expression unreadable. “Now,” he whispered in a seductive challenge. “Strike me.”

Without hesitation, I let the power loose, aiming directly at him. The ice shot forth, colder, sharper, and more devastating than anything I’d ever summoned before.

But just as quickly, he countered it, flames bursting from his hand and melting the ice before it could reach him. He smiled, a wicked, pleased smile, as if he had expected nothing less.

“Better,” he said, his voice a dark caress. “Much better.”

The cold that had filled me moments before lingered, but it was tainted by something else—something darker, more dangerous. I watched the Dragon King as he extinguished the last remnants of my ice with a flick of his wrist, the smug satisfaction on his face clear. But there was something I needed to know, something that had been gnawing at me since the moment I first saw him in the crypts.

“Did you feel nothing when you killed her?” The words left my mouth before I could stop them, raw and trembling with the emotion I had just tried to bury. “When you killed Princess Aeliana, did you feel nothing?”

For the first time since I’d met him, the Dragon King faltered. His eyes, usually so sharp and unyielding, darkened as he paused, the smirk fading from his lips.

He didn’t speak, not immediately. Instead, he stared at me, his gaze piercing, searching for something in my face. I could feel the significance of it, the intensity, as if he was trying to read my very soul. The stillness between us grew unbearable, charged with unspoken tension.

Finally, he cleared his throat, the sound breaking the silence like a crack in the ice. “No,” he said, his tone low and rough, stripped of its usual mocking edge. “For the first time in a long while, I felt something.”

For a moment, I saw something in his eyes that I hadn’t expected—regret, perhaps, or something close to it. But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by the cold, controlled mask he always wore.

“We’re done for today,” he added, the steel returning to his voice. “Practice what I’ve taught you.”

Before I could respond, he turned sharply on his heel and stormed off, his cape billowing behind him as he disappeared into the shadows. I stood there, the memory of his gaze still burning in my mind, and wondered what it meant to see even a blink of humanity in the man who had taken everything from me.