Page 59 of Tethered In Blood

My thumb traced over the bruise one last time as my pulse throbbed beneath my skin.

“You will be.”

18

Eden

THETHICK,DAMPairpressed against my skin while the walls closed in on me. The aroma of wet stone and iron overwhelmed my senses. My wrists burned from the old shackles that bit into my flesh. Somewhere behind me, chains rattled just before—

Crack.

White-hot, searing pain ignited across my back. My body jerked, and my breath caught in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t matter. I knew where I was. I knew what came next.

“Again.”

Marcus’s voice stayed calm and patient, as if instructing a servant rather than ordering my suffering. The whip sliced through the air.Crack. Fire exploded along my spine. My jaw ached from clenching my teeth. Don’t make a sound. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

Another lash.

And another.

The pain blended. Heat and agony coursed through me until I could no longer tell one strike from the next. My breathing was shallow. Every inhale prickled against my lungs. The coppery, thick smell of blood lingered.

A hand gripped my chin and forced my head up. I tried to twist away, but his fingers pressed harder, and his nails dug in. His eyes gleamed with a dark intention that set my skin crawling.

“You’re shaking, Darling,” Marcus murmured, tilting his head. “Why fight it? We both know you belong here.”

No.

I wanted to spit in his face—to tear him apart. But I remained frozen, unable to move as if still shackled, still his.

Another crack.

I flinched as the pain ricocheted through me. The walls around me blurred, shifted, warped—

Then I fell.

My heart hammered in my chest, and the chilled air bit at my sweat-damp skin when I gasped awake. The scent of rain enveloped me. The room had changed. The wooden floor beneath me felt real. The hearth crackled, casting a dim glow across the room.

The crack of thunder that rolled through the night caused me to flinch as I sat up. The sound was too close- too similar to a whip splitting the air. My fingers clawed at my back before I realized there was no blood, no fresh wounds—just scars, just ghosts.

I slowed my breathing, grounding myself in the present.The storm raged beyond these old walls, and I sat here—not there, but here.

A shadow shifted near the hearth, and I flinched.

Oberon sat in the chair with his back against the far wall, arms crossed and gaze dark. He must have heard me again. Shame coiled in my gut. I swallowed hard against my raw throat and pushed myself upright, refusing to meet his eyes. “It was just a dream,” I murmured, more to myself than to him.

Silence stretched between us until he responded. His voice was quiet. “I know.” He didn’t push or pry; he simply sat there as he had last time. Somehow, that was enough.

THEQUIETRIDEintoVaelwick made my skin crawl, a sensation that settled deep in my bones as a warning. I tried to recall the last time I had heard a bird, a rustle in the trees, or any other sign of life, but nothing came to mind. Maybe it was just my nerves, but even Neryth’s steps felt heavier, as Elduvaris itself resisted us, swallowing the sound before it could reach the air.

Fields stretched in lifeless patches along the roadside, the land hollowed of its former vibrance. Blackened husks of crops lay shriveled, collapsed into the soil like broken ribs in an unmarked grave. The sight twisted deep in my gut. It wasn’t just a poor harvest; it represented devastation—a blight. The land hadn’t just failed; it had been ruined.

As we approached the entrance, a breeze stirred, rolling over us. The dense, foul stench that hit me clung to the back of my throat—an unnatural rot worse than the decay of plants. My stomach lurched, and I pulled my sleeve up over my nose, muffling my gag.

“Gods,” I wheezed, my voice muffled by the fabric. “That’s foul.”

The air itself was contaminated. Whatever had settled here didn’t affect only the crops; it was pervasive.

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