Page 51 of Bound in Flames

Our ragged breaths mingled, our bodies were slick with sweat. He pressed a chaste kiss to the mark he’d left behind, his tongue tracing over the broken skin, soothing the sting with soft murmurs. My body was still wracked with aftershocks, overwhelmed yet still craving the delicious heat of his touch. Every part of me felt branded by him.Owned. I was his, and he was mine. I couldn’t find it in myself to want it any other way.

Chapter 27

Cleo

The sound of the wind howled softly through the narrow corridors of the mountain stronghold, a constant, distant whisper of the outside world. Inside, the walls seemed to pulse with the ancient heartbeat of the mountain itself.

After the intensity of learning to heal with Seer Arna, the weight of my new responsibilities hung heavily around my shoulders. I was stepping into a world where I would have to use that power in ways I hadn’t yet imagined.

Dex walked beside me silently, his presence reassuring, as we made our way through the winding corridors toward the heart of the stronghold. His hand brushed mine occasionally, sending a warm, steady pulse through my skin, even as the pressure of what lay ahead mounted with every step. His presence was a tether, keeping me anchored amidst the weight of expectation.

This was more than a simple fortress of stone and steel. The stronghold wasn’t just a shelter—it was the center of orc life, a place where their history and traditions lived on, even in exile. As we passed through the tunnels, I could see it in the way they moved, the way their culture had adapted to life within the mountain. Their resilience was woven into every stone and whispered in every passing glance.

I had spent so little time here, but walking beside my mate with the shadow of war still lingering in the distance, I had a chance to see more of who these people truly were. Their preparations were calculated; herbs for healing, stockpiling arrows, and forging new weapons and armor—each task carried out with quiet determination.

We entered a wide chamber illuminated by flickering torchlight, the large crystals embedded in the walls cast a soft, ethereal glow over the hall. Orcs bustled through the space, setting platters and filling the air with the rich scent of roasted meat and fragrant herbs. Laughter mixed with low voices in the dining hall, the warmth of community weaving through the air like an invisible thread, and I found myself smiling.

“They’re preparing for the harvest festival. Even in times of war, we honor the land and its cycles.” Dex’s voice was soft as he noticed the way my gaze roamed the chamber.

I noticed the way their eyes followed us, their whispers growing quieter as we passed. Some of them dipped their heads in respect when their Chieftain glanced their way, but when their eyes shifted to me, there was something else—a mixture of reverence and curiosity. They still weren’t sure what to make of me at their Chieftain’s side.

The long tables were lined with offerings, the walls adorned with intricate carvings and symbols painted in rich ochres and blacks. The orcs moved with purpose as they carried out the rituals that marked this sacred occasion. I took an empty space near the center of the hall, Dex by my side.

Seer Arna entered soon after us, her silver hair gleaming in the firelight, a staff held firmly in one hand. Her voice carried through the hall, low and resonant, as she began to speak in an ancient orcish tongue. I couldn’t understand the words, but each syllable was charged with an otherworldly power that prickled my skin.

Dex leaned closer, his voice a low murmur in my ear. “She’s calling on the ancestors, asking them to bless the harvest and guide the clan through the coming year.”

I nodded, my gaze fixed on the Seer. When her piercing eyes met mine, I felt a jolt, like she was looking through me, straight into my soul.

“Cleo,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of the ritual itself, “step forward.”

The blood drained from my face, and I glanced at Dex, searching his expression for reassurance. His golden eyes met mine, calm and steady, and he gave me a small nod. Swallowing hard, I stepped forward, the circle of bodies parting to let me through. Eyes burned into me, heavy with expectation.

“This is the time of renewal. A time to honor the land, the ancestors, and the bonds that tie us together as a clan. To swear fealty to the earth and to each other.” She held out a small ceremonial dagger, its blade curved and etched with runes not unlike the one on Dex’s hip.

“Each member of the clan offers a drop of their blood to the flames, a symbol of their connection to the earth and their loyalty to the Blackfoot. As the mate of our Chieftain, you are one of us now. Will you take the oath?”

The murmurs around me grew louder, a ripple of anticipation spreading through the hall. I glanced again at Dex, but his expression was unreadable, his gaze steady on mine. This was their culture. I couldn’t refuse, not when I had vowed to respect their traditions.

“I will.” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady as I took the dagger she held out. My fingers trembled when I wrapped them around the hilt. The blade was warm, almost alive, and the runes etched into its surface seemed to pulse under my touch.

“Just a few drops in the fire, dear.” she said kindly.

I stepped closer to the fire, and the heat brushed against my skin as the flames licked higher. My reflection wavered in the flames, distorted and flickering. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the blade to my palm. The sharp slice of the blade made me wine, and I tipped my hand to let the droplets fall into the fire. It fire hissed and crackled louder in response, the light shifting and twisting until the room around me blurred. The glow of the flames consumed everything until there was nothing but light. Heat pressed against my skin, and a voice echoed in my mind—deep and resonant, like the mountain itself was speaking to me.

Watch.

The light shifted, and suddenly, I was standing in a barren wasteland. The sky above was dark, thick with churning clouds that blotted out the sun. Shadows writhed around me, a sea of black tendrils that stretched out endlessly, suffocating everything in their path. And in the distance, I saw Dex leading the clan in battle, myself at his side holding a dagger.

We stood together, faces streaked with soot and sweat as we fought against the advancing Darkness. The shadows were relentless, swallowing everything in their path. I watched, helpless, as the tendrils wrapped around Dex, pulling him down. I watched as I reached down to grab his hand in desperation before we were both swallowed by the shadows. The orcs behind us screamed out in pain, their voices rising in a chorus of agony as the darkness consumed them next.

Several long seconds passed as I watched the shadows writhe and churn across the ground, before the vision seemed to slow to a halt.

I blinked, and I was watching it all over again—the same scene, the same pain. But this time, something was different. I watched my vision-self step forward, hands glowing withmagic that pulsed bright. The tendrils of shadow recoiled, hissing, as the magic surged out of her, wrapping around the clan and shielding them from the darkness. Dex pushed the warriors behind him and backed away from the glow, leaving vision me alone to battle the shadows.

I burned as if I were feeling her channeling in my own body. My vision-self shrieked, her body glowing so brightly it was almost unbearable. Magic erupted from her, a wave of pure energy that disintegrated the shadows across the wasteland in an instant, but as the light dimmed, I saw her fall to her knees. Glowing veins turning white-hot, scorching and blistering her skin. She begged for help, for death, but the roar of the orcs celebrating their victory drowned out her pleas. I watched her burn until she curled on the ground, crumbling into ash, leaving nothing but scorched earth where she had stood.

You must choose.

---