Duskbound

by Bree Grenwich

For those who learned that darkness doesn't devour. It forges.

“You’re a Duskbound. Whether you like it or not. And you were right, we do need something from you. Something we can’t take against your will. Believe me, if we could, I would have found a way to do it already. Because I’m no gentleman. Because we’re running out of time. This realm is dying, and you’re the single fucking thing that has the ability to save it.”

Slowly, it bowed its head before me, its enormous form lowering to acknowledge me in some way I couldn’t begin to comprehend. “Tryggar has just claimed you.”

“Careful, that sounds like something a gentleman might say.” “In that case, carry on.”

"You know, I used to think redemption meant erasing who you were before. Becoming someone new." She glanced toward Ravenfell, barely visible through the mist. "But sometimes it's about accepting all of it—the mistakes, the choices, even the parts that shame us."

"That's the thing about power—it's not about controlling it perfectly. It's about choosing to keep fighting even when it feels impossible."

"It's not about proving them wrong, you know. It's about proving to yourself that you're worthy. That you always were."

"I'm not hiding, I'm..." I searched for the right word. "Strategically avoiding conversation. And responsibility."

"You were spying on us?" "Observing," he corrected, that ghost of a smile playing at his lips. "It's what I do." "And what observations did you make?" "That you're more interesting than I initially thought." His eyes met mine again. "Though still incredibly frustrating."

"Everything you've done since you've been in Umbrathia has been selfless. I've never wanted to know someone so much."

"I already told you." His voice was low, dangerous. "I'm with you. Always."

"It was quiet," he agreed. "But I'm learning there's a difference between peace and emptiness."

"I felt nothing for decades." His voice was rough. "Existed, but barely lived. Hiding from no one other than myself, but hiding all the same. And then you showed up. And now..." His voice trailed off, pain crossing his face as he tried to collect himself. A dark familiarity tugged at me. "I've tried to go back to that place. But I can't find my way there. I'm not sure it even exists anymore. Not since you showed up and destroyed every wall I'd built."

"I'm scared," I whispered against her shoulder. "Good." She stroked my hair. "Fear keeps you sharp. Keeps you from doing anything too stupid." She paused. "Well, more stupid than usual."

"You thought you loved him," he finally said. "It seems deeper than that, and it's difficult to imagine competing with that history." "History makes it seem like something far more than it was."

"All of those decades spent here, all of the sleepless nights searching for any kind of meaning to my existence—it was so that I could find you."

"I give myself to you," he said, voice deadly calm. "My life, my shadows, my loyalty—they belong to you now. Not because you're the heir to this realm, but because you're the only thing I've ever wanted to believe in."

“It’s terribly rude to interrupt a man when he’s swearing his life to you.”