The forest did not let Jax run easily.
Branches clawed at his cloak, roots rose beneath his feet, and the wind howled like a warning meant only for him. Rowan's last words echoed in his mind—Never let them bind you—as Jax pushed deeper into Whisperwood, his breath ragged, his heart pounding like it was trying to break free.
Behind him, the forest whispered with footsteps that were not his own.
The Hunters of the Bound moved without sound.
Jax felt them before he saw them—pressure in the air, a tightening in his chest. The mark on his arm burned brighter with every step, sending sharp pulses through his veins. Instinct guided him now, not thought. He turned sharply, raising his arm—
The wind exploded outward.
Trees bent violently. Leaves and dirt spiraled into the air as an unseen force tore through the clearing. Jax staggered back, shocked, staring at his own trembling hand.
He had done that.
For a heartbeat, silence fell.
Then the Hunters emerged.
There were three of them, cloaked in ash-gray armor etched with binding runes. Their faces were hidden behind smooth masks carved with identical symbols—symbols that hurt to look at, as if the world itself rejected them.
"Jax of Eldermere," one said, voice cold and hollow. "By ancient accord, you are claimed."
"I don't belong to you," Jax shouted, though fear twisted his words.
The Hunter tilted its head. "No. You belong to the world. And the world cannot afford you unbound."
They advanced.
The mark flared blindingly bright.
Pain surged through Jax—but beneath it was something else. Memory. Not his own.
He saw fire raining from the sky. Cities collapsing. Unbound figures standing at the center of storms—not as heroes, but as forces of nature. He felt their regret. Their rage. Their loneliness.
And one final truth carved itself into him like a blade:
The Unbound were not destroyed.
They were scattered.
And bound… into people.
Jax screamed.
The ground split open between him and the Hunters, forcing them back. The forest itself seemed to recoil from him now. Jax fell to his knees, gasping, overwhelmed by the weight of what he had felt.
When he looked up—
The Hunters were gone.
So was the forest.
Jax stood in a vast stone chamber, circular and ancient, lit by floating shards of pale blue light. Runes covered the walls, shifting slowly, endlessly. At the center stood a figure cloaked in silver-black robes, face uncovered.
A woman.
Her eyes glowed faintly blue—the same blue as his mark.
"You finally crossed the threshold," she said calmly.
Jax staggered back. "Who are you?"
She studied him, not like an enemy… but not like an ally either.
"My name is Lyra," she replied. "And I am what remains of the Unbound."
Jax's breath caught. "Rowan said they were hunted."
"They were," Lyra said. "By people like Rowan."
The words struck harder than any blow.
"No," Jax said. "He protected me."
"Yes," Lyra agreed softly. "And he helped bind the rest of us."
She raised her hand, and the air shimmered. Images formed—Rowan, younger, standing among others as glowing sigils were carved into children, into bloodlines, into souls.
"The world feared chaos," Lyra continued. "So it chose control. They turned us into legacies instead of people."
Jax's knees weakened. "You're lying."
Lyra stepped closer, her expression unreadable.
"Ask yourself this," she said. "Why do you think your power woke now?"
The chamber trembled.
Cracks spread across the walls. Distant alarms—ancient and alive—began to ring.
Lyra's gaze sharpened. "Because the bindings are failing. And when they break, the world will not survive another Unbound war."
She placed something cold into Jax's hand—a broken sigil, split cleanly in two.
"You can free us," she said. "Or you can finish what Rowan helped start."
The chamber began to collapse.
Jax looked at the sigil. At his glowing arm. At the woman who claimed truth and the man who had raised him with lies.
Above them, the runes changed—forming a single, terrifying phrase:
UNBOUND AWAKENING: IRREVERSIBLE
And somewhere far away, Rowan fell to his knees, whispering Jax's name.