Page 52 of Bound in Flames

I suckedin a gulp of air, stumbling back from the fire as the vision shattered around me. The dagger slipped from my hand, clattering to the stone floor, and I barely registered the sound as I fought to catch my breath. The room came rushing back into focus, the orcs watching me with wide, expectant eyes.

Dex was there in an instant, his hands a firm anchor as I swayed. His voice wrapped around me like a protective shield, his eyes searching into mine with an intensity that made my pulse stutter. “What did you see?”

I blinked up at him in shocked terror, the words caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat. The weight of the vision still clung to me, tendrils of fear curling deep into my chest.

His brow creased, and his grip tightened just enough to ground me. “Cleo! What was the vision?”

I shook my head, the memory of blinding pain and endless darkness still too real. “Not here.” My voice was barely audible, fear choking me.

Dex’s jaw flexed, the muscles ticking beneath his skin as his head turned to glare at Arna. A silent conversation passed between them before his focus was back onto me. When he spoke, his voice carried the kind of authority that brooked no argument. “Excuse us, Cleo needs rest.”

But as I held his gaze, the vision pulsed through me once more. The consuming light, the soul-deep agony, the terrifying emptiness that followed. And beneath it all, the voice that whispered again:You must choose.

Our echoedfootsteps followed us down the corridor, and I focused on the sound, trying to ground myself. The vision still swirled in my mind, sharp and vivid, the searing pain and suffocating loneliness replaying like a cruel loop. Dex walked beside me, his hand brushing mine every so often as if to remind me he was there, but I could feel the weight of his gaze itching under my skin. He was waiting, giving me space, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I wasn’t ready to talk about what I’d seen. Not when I was still processing what I had seen.

We entered a larger chamber, the low murmur of voices and the soft glow of torches filled the space. Guards moved around us, some glancing our way before quickly averting their eyes and continuing on their rounds. I stiffened, wrapping my arms around my chilled body as the whispers grew quieter. The weight of their stares pressed against me, and I couldn’t help but wonder how much they knew. Had they already known aboutthe ritual, or was it simply the lingering discomfort of a human standing at their Chieftain’s side?

“They’re still not used to seeing humans here,” Dex said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was calm, but there was a protective edge to it, as if he was trying to ease my discomfort. “Especially not one like you.”

I glanced up at him, forcing a small smile. “I’m going to pretend that was a compliment.”

His lips curved into a smirk and he nudged me playfully with his shoulder. “A shaman with such strong magic. The Seer’s words spread quickly about your affinity for healing, but they’re still wary having spent generations hearing stories of betrayal and war. It will take time for them to fully accept you.”

“And what if they don’t?” I asked before I could stop myself. The question hung in the air between us.

“They will. Because you’re more than just a shaman to them, Cleo. You’re my mate. And as long as I stand with you, they will too.”

His words were meant to reassure me, but the knot in my chest only tightened. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. The despair of the vision tainted everything, but I couldn’t tell him about it yet. We needed privacy.

Dex led me through another corridor, the air growing cooler as we descended into a quieter part of the stronghold. The sound of water echoed faintly, mingling with the steady drip of moisture from the stone walls. When we reached the end of the stairwell, Dex pushed open a heavy wooden door, revealing a vast, torchlit chamber.

“This is the Hall of Memory,” he said as he stepped inside. “It’s primarily a sanctuary for the clan’s most vulnerable in times of danger. The magic here wards off intruders and seals the doors from the inside.”

I hesitated in the doorway, the ancient magic that pressed down on me was too similar to the vision I’d just had. The distant stone columns were etched with runes I couldn’t decipher, and rows of shelves lined the walls, filled with scrolls and carved tablets. It was like stepping into a living magical archive, a place where the past lingered in every corner.

I followed behind Dex with hesitant steps. His fingers brushing the tablets as we made our way down the shelves. “Every orc clan has its own history, its own stories. Here, we keep the records of the Blackfoot clan—the stories of our ancestors, the battles we’ve fought, the lands we’ve lost.”

The detail was incredible, the orcs depicted in the tablets were proud and defiant, their faces marked with determination even in the face of overwhelming odds. My throat tightened as I traced the edge of one carving, its lines sharp against my fingertips.

Dex stopped in front of a larger tablet, his hand resting gently on its surface. The image showed a fierce battle, orc warriors locked in combat with shadowy figures that sent a chill of familiarity down my spine. “This was one of the first battles of the exile. The humans brought mages and knights to drive us from the forests. We fought for every inch of ground, but in the end, we were forced to retreat. Countless sacrificed their lives to buy time for the others to escape.”

My fingers trembled as I reached out to touch the edge of the carving. “They fought for their families,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dex nodded, his gaze distant as he looked at the tablet. “The clans were separated during the war. Some survived, but others…” His voice trailed off, and I felt the weight of his unspoken words.

“How many clans were lost?”

“We know of several that managed to escape, scattered across the Wild Lands. Two clans were run down as they tried to escape to the Marshlands, and three have fallen since then.” His jaw tightened, and his hand curled into a fist. “We’ve always fought to protect what’s ours. But now the balance has shifted. The darkness is spreading faster than ever before.”

The shadows. The vision.My pulse quickened, and I clenched my hands to stop them from shaking. I could still feel the heat of the fire that had scorched through me while I watched myself die. I wanted to tell Dex, to share what I’d seen, but fear held me back.What if he couldn’t protect me from it? What if it was inevitable?My fingers twisted together as I tried to slow my breathing. The memory of the vision felt like a thorn lodged in my chest, every breath catching on its edge. Speaking it would make it real, and I wasn’t sure I could bear that, already on the edge of a panic attack.

But Dex’s gaze didn’t waver. His presence wrapped around me like a shield. He bought his hand to cup my chin, tilting my face up. “Whatever you saw—whatever it was—I need to know. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as I searched his eyes for some way out. But there wasn’t one. He wouldn’t let me carry this alone, no matter how much I wanted to protect him from it. I took a shaky breath, closing my eyes as I tried to find the words.

“I saw two versions of the vision, playing out in front of me like I was just a spectator,” I began, my voice trembling.

His brow furrowed, but he said nothing, letting me continue.

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