Page 63 of Blood Bound

I strain to remember more details. There was a voice whispering words I couldn’t understand. Not any language I recognize. The sound of it made my skin crawl and my head spin. That had been the thing that took me down, ultimately. Some kind of enchantment. I’m sure of it. If only I could pinpoint the source.

Who? Who would be able to do such a thing?

The more I try to remember, the more my head pounds. But one thing’s becoming clear – whatever took me, it wasn’t just vampires. And that thought terrifies me more than anything else.

“Come on, Rowan,” I say to myself, “you got yourself into this mess. Time to figure a way out of it.”

First things first: I need to work out where the hell I am.

I squint into the darkness, willing my eyes to adjust. Slowly, shapes begin to emerge from the gloom. The room is larger than I initially thought, with rough stone walls that curve inward to form a domed ceiling. But it’s what’s on those walls that catches my attention.

Symbols. Dozens of them, etched into the stone in spiraling patterns. They glow faintly in the darkness, pulsing with an eerie, sickly green light. I lean closer, trying to make sense of them. Some look vaguely familiar – distorted versions of protection runes I’ve seen in Gran’s grimoire. Others are completely alien, all harsh angles and jagged lines that hurt my eyes to look at.

“What the hell?” I mutter, tracing one of the symbols with my finger. It tingles unpleasantly, and I jerk my hand back.

These aren’t just decorations. They’re part of whatever’s dampening my magic. I’m certain of it. But who could create something like this? It’s beyond any witchcraft I’ve ever seen. Although to be fair, my experience is limited, considering that until recently, I could barely summon up enough power to boil an egg.

As I scan the room, trying to make sense of it all, a prickling sensation creeps up the back of my neck. I’m being watched. I whip my head around, searching for the source of that unsettling feeling.

That’s when I see them. Tiny red lights, blinking steadily in each corner of the room. Cameras. My stomach drops as I process what this means. This isn’t some ancient dungeon or hidden cave. It’s a modern facility designed to hold us. And by “us,” I mean me and whoever else is stuck in here with me because it’s clear that I’m not alone.

“Guys,” I call out softly to my unseen fellow prisoners. “Anyone listening?”

No answer aside from a scuffing noise from beyond my cell wall. Silence falls again and the weight of it hangs heavily on me.

I’ve lost all sense of time in this dark, oppressive space. Without windows or any natural light, I can’t tell if hours or days have passed since I was left here. My stomach growls, but I can’t tell if it’s from hunger or anxiety. The disorientation is maddening, making every minute feel like an eternity.

As I shift position, trying to find a more comfortable spot on the cold, hard floor, a wave of dizziness washes over me. My limbs feel heavy, uncooperative. It’s more than just being chained up – there’s a bone-deep weariness that I can’t shake. Did they drug me? Or is this some kind of magical exhaustion?

I try to stand, but my legs buckle beneath me. I crash back to the floor, the chains rattling loudly in the silence.

“Shit,” I grunt, frustration and fear battling for dominance in my mind. I need to get out of here, but in this state, I’m not sure I could, even if the opportunity presented itself.

A low, mechanical hum suddenly fills the air, making me freeze. It’s coming from somewhere beyond the walls of my prison, rhythmic and unsettling. As I strain to listen, other sounds join in – the whir of machinery, a series of sharp clicks, and metallic rattling.

Oh God. What kind of place is this?

The noises paint a picture of some twisted laboratory or torture chamber, and I’m terrified to think about what might be happening to the other prisoners – or what my captors have planned for me.

I strain my ears, trying to make sense of the unsettling noises beyond my cell. Suddenly, a whisper cuts through the darkness, startling me.

“Hey…new girl. You okay over there?”

The voice is weak but distinctly female. I hesitate, unsure if I should respond.

What if it’s a trap?

Yeah…like that’s ever stopped me in the past. In any event, the thought of a potential ally is too tempting to ignore.

“I’m here,” I whisper back. “Who are you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she replies. “Listen, if you want to survive, preserve your strength. Don’t struggle against the chains – it’s pointless.”

Her words leave me reeling. How long has she been here to sound so…defeated? Days? Weeks? Months?

Wait! If she’s been here that long, maybe she’s encountered others…

“Have you seen others come through?” I ask, my heart racing. “A woman named Mia, maybe?”

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