Page 26 of Bound in Flames

Dex’s expression tightened, his golden eyes narrowing as he listened intently. "You can feel it trying to take their lifeforce?"

I nodded, the words tumbling out faster now, the dam breaking. "Yes. It’s like I can see the threads of their lifeforce being pulled away, as if something is sucking it right out of them. And it’s not just that I can feel it—it’s like it calls to me."

I could feel my face burning with embarrassment, my hands trembling as I spoke. "There’s this pull," I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper. "Like a dark seduction. It feels... wrong, but also... I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like it wants me to reach for it, like it’s whispering to me to take it. And I’m terrified of what that means."

Dex was eerily still as he processed my confession, eyes remaining locked onto mine with an intensity that made my heart pound even harder.

"I know it sounds insane," I said quickly, my throat tight. "But it’s the truth. When I push back with my magic, it feels like I’m battling something inside myself as much as I’m battling whatever’s out there. I can feel the temptation to reach for thatdarkness; it whispers promises of incredible power. It scares me."

I closed my eyes, the weight of my confession pressing down on me like a physical force. My hands trembled and I clutched the blanket tighter. I couldn’t lose myself to that darkness. I didn’t want to turn into something twisted and evil. I could feel Dex’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Shame coiled in my gut, twisting like a knife.

After what felt like an eternity, Dex finally spoke.

"Cleo…” His voice was low, rough, but there was a softness to it. I opened my eyes, surprised to find him closer than before, his hand reaching out to gently cup my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze, his intensity sending shivers down my spine in response. “You’re not going to lose yourself to this. You’re stronger than whatever darkness is calling to you."

I blinked back tears, my breath catching in my throat. "How do you know that?"

"Because I’ve seen you fight," he replied, his thumb brushing lightly across my jawline. "I’ve seen you protect the people around you, even when it nearly killed you. You are different, Cleo. And I’ll be damned if I let you fall to whatever this thing is."

His words washed over me, steadying the storm of emotions that had been raging inside. There was something about the way he spoke, the way he looked at me, that made me believe him. As if I wasn’t alone in this battle.

"I don’t know what’s happening to me," I admitted, my voice barely more than a whisper. "But I know it’s getting stronger. I can feel it growing inside me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it at bay."

Dex’s hand slid from my chin to my cheek, his touch warm and grounding. “We all fight a darkness inside. I won’t let you fight it alone.”

His words struck a chord deep inside me, and I felt my chest tighten with a mix of relief. I hadn’t realized how much I needed someone to stand by me, to believe in me, even when I couldn’t believe in myself. I leaned into his touch, my heart racing as I let the warmth of his hand seep into my skin. For a moment, the fear faded, replaced by a sense of calm.

But even as I found comfort in his presence, I couldn’t shake the lingering doubt that hung in the back of my mind. The darkness inside me was growing, and no matter how hard I tried to fight it, I could feel it pulling me closer, whispering promises I wasn’t sure I could resist forever, and I didn’t know how much longer I could keep it from swallowing me whole. I realized that Dex wasn’t just protecting me because of my power. There was something in him, something broken, that recognized the fear inside me.

“You fight a darkness too?” I asked. The question felt like a thread pulling on the fabric of something bigger.

Dex’s fingers left mine as he sat heavily next to me. He pulled his dagger from his belt, the sharp edge catching the firelight, runes glowing softly in his giant palm. Then, as if driven by an old habit, he began twirling it between his fingers, his movements smooth and deliberate. His golden eyes flicked to mine, then away, shadowed by something I couldn’t quite name.

“Seven years ago, the night I became Chieftain, was the night I got this dagger.”

I stayed silent, sensing that interrupting would break the fragile tether of his words.

“I’d survived five days in the Shadow Lands, and brought back the pelt of a Hound. I then defeated my opponent in combat, securing my title. The clan had gathered to watch me take the oath, a rare celebration outside of our strongholds. We were in the middle of a sacred rite, the final ceremony to crown the next Chieftain, when we were ambushed.”

“By who?” I whispered.

“The Ostelan Crown. The Silver Hand was sent by the King to make sure we never gained a new leader. They attacked in the middle of the rite, arrows raining down before we even knew what was happening. They were always cowards.” His words were laced with venom as the blade twirled faster now between his fingers. “They didn’t care who they killed. Elders, women, children… They wanted to leave us broken. Remind us of our place.”

Dex’s hand stilled, the blade glinting in the firelight as he tightened his grip on the hilt, and his voice turned thick with emotion that spoke of heartache, and a fury hotter than fire. “My sister, Urla, saved me that night. Shoved me out of the way of a crossbow bolt that should’ve killed me. She took it herself.”

I could hear the fire crackling between us, but its warmth did nothing to ease the chill settling in my stomach.

“I tried to save her,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I held her as she bled out, and still she told me to get up. To keep fighting. To be the warrior she trained me to be.”

I swallowed hard, my voice trembling as I asked, “What did you do?”

Dex looked at me then, his molten gold eyes burning with something raw and unguarded. “I got up and we killed them all—every last one of them who thought they could break us.”

He exhaled, dragging a hand over his face before letting the blade twirl in his fingers again. “That night, I took the oath of Chieftain not because I wanted to, but because I had to. The clan needed someone to lead us to a better future, one without fear and oppression under the Crown’s wrath.”

“Dex...” I started, but the words failed me. What could I say to that kind of loss?

“The rage fueled me in battle as I tore them apart… but a good Chieftain cannot rule by emotion and keep his people safe.I swore I wouldn’t let emotions drive me again. My sister raised me after my mother passed, and she made sure to teach me that a real leader who lets his feelings rule him isn’t a leader at all. She knew what this life required—sacrifice, strength, and control. I buried everything that night. For the clan and for her.”

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