Page 105 of Fury of the Bound
I give it another glance, unimpressed. “Spit it out.”
He tilts his head slightly, eyes gleaming like fresh blood. “The spellbreaker.”
That means jack shit.
“Are you going to tell me what it does, or just keep talking shit?”
Malrik moves fast. One second, he was grinning; the next, his hand had fisted my collar, pulling me close. My fists clenched instantly, and every part of me itched to break his face.
“No, I’m not,” he says, voice calm. “And I’m not telling you shit.”
His grip tightened for just a second before letting go. “You piss me off. The only reason I haven’t slit your throat and eaten your insides is because she asked me not to.”
Maniac.
He studied me with a slow blink, like a predator deciding whether to strike. “For some reason, she likes you. Don’t ask mewhy—I wouldn’t waste a drop of blood on you. But what she says goes.”
He steps back, casual as ever.
I swear under my breath and resisted the urge to tear off my clothes. Even through the leather, the feel of him lingered. All I want is fire—an inferno hot enough to scorch him out of me, to burn every trace of him until there's nothing left.
We moved faster, boots hammering against the stone, the tension between us wound tight like a drawn bow. The closer we got to the council building, the thicker the air became—like the city knew what was coming and had the decency to be afraid.
The moment she walks through those doors, everything will change.
Chapter 28
RAVENA
The council gates loom ahead, iron and cold, and I can sense the hunters inside waiting for me. The wind cuts against me as I halt just beyond the gates, the storm restless in my blood. My fingers twitch at my sides, not from fear, but from the pressure building in my chest, coiled and snarling like it already knows what's coming.
They think I’m just a girl. A weak little witch. They don't know I’ve spent twenty-three years running from a monster. Surviving when I was never meant to
I stepped closer to the towering gates, lifted my hands, and let the magic rise. It surged through me—wild and primal, coiled beneath my skin like a living thing, begging to be set free.
Not just power.
My birthright.
And this time, I didn’t hold back.
With a breath, I closed my eyes and let my magic out. It spilt from my palms in a whisper of frost, winding its way towards the iron gates with deadly elegance. Ice laced over the metal in delicate tendrils at first, curling like vines—then surged, fast and merciless. The temperature plummeted. The steel groaned in protest as the frost consumed it, spreading in a lacework of crystalline veins that shimmered in the light.
A low crackle hissed in the air—the barriers enchantment flaring to life, electricity arching in wild streaks toward me.But the ice rose to meet it, swallowing the current before it could touch my skin. My magic climbed higher, faster, hungrier, encasing the entire gate in a glistening, glass-like shell.
Crack.
A single fracture split through the centre.
With a thunderous shatter, the frozen gate exploded outward, fragments raining down in jagged shards, echoing like a battle cry. The air filled with the strong scent of ozone and frozen metal, the cold biting deep in my lungs.
The front doors of the building slammed open with a bang, and the hunters poured out. Their eyes locked on me—vengeful, ready for blood.
Oh goodie.
Fury rolled off me in waves, but underneath it, buried like a splinter beneath skin, was something worse. Guilt. Vespera had touched them—broken them—and it was my fault. They were suffering because of me. And Darian had every reason to hate me for it.
The thought only fuelled my rage further.
