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Austin, Texas — 9:12 PM
The sky cracked.
Not with lightning. Not with thunder.
But with something deeper—a fracture in the very air, a ripple across reality like a wound opening where there should be none.
People barely noticed it. A tremor in the air. A momentary flicker in the streetlamps. A dog barking wildly at nothing.
But in the places where power had slept, something ancient stirred.
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The Bound
They had walked the world for generations—immortal, ageless, dangerous. Not Elders. Not gods. But subjects.
The Bound.
Once human.
Now something else.
Bound through blood and ritual by Elders who wielded more than just strength—who wielded time, flame, shadow, and silence.
Some Bound followed loyally. Others served under pressure. A few even loved their masters.
But none chose.
Until the Veil tore.
The Veil wasn't a thing one could see. It wasn't even truly a place. It was the layer of power holding back what had once been sealed.
When Joseph broke his prison beneath the Great Pyramid, it didn't just shake the world—it screamed into the roots of power itself.
And that scream... unbound chains that had been hidden since the old days.
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Houston — 9:14 PM
Liam collapsed to his knees on a rooftop, fingers trembling.
He had served Dorian for over a hundred years. His body burned with the strength gifted to him in an alley during the American Civil War. He had slaughtered armies in Dorian's name. He had outlived five wives and buried nine children.
But now, something was different.
The connection was gone.
He breathed—and the breath was wholly his. Not tied to Dorian's heartbeat. Not tethered to the chains of the binding mark beneath his ribs.
He ripped open his shirt, and the mark—the rune that bound him to the Elder—was gone. As if it had never been there.
He stared at the sky.
And smiled.
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Berlin — 4:22 AM (local)
Anja stood before the mirror of a cathedral, eyes wide with terror.
She was a Bound once, tethered to Selene.
Her gift was speed. Reflexes that bent bullets. Movements that danced through blades. She had once crossed Paris in seven seconds.
And now?
She could feel her heart. Her breath. Her mortality.
But she wasn't afraid of dying.
She was afraid of feeling.
Because for the first time since the ritual, she felt her own rage. Her own hunger.
The unbinding hadn't made her weaker.
It had made her herself again.
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A Safehouse in Morocco — Midnight
A Bound named Kareem fell to the floor, blood pouring from his nose.
Not from injury. From release.
The arcane branding on his spine lit up and then vanished in a blink of violet fire.
He gasped.
And wept.
He was free.
And he wasn't alone.
The world had dozens of them.
Bound in forests, in temples, in cities. Bound in forgotten prisons, in warzones, in libraries that never lent books. They had been hidden beneath the skin of civilization—sleeper agents of ancient gods.
And now?
The Veil was torn.
And freedom walked with them.
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Witches Awakened
Power doesn't escape cleanly.
When Joseph tore open his prison, the blast of power wasn't precise. It was messy. Wild. Chaotic.
Some of it bled into the Bound.
Some of it? Into the world.
Into the cracks where magic still stirred.
The witches.
Long hunted. Long hidden. Long suppressed.
Now reawakened.
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Austin, Texas — 9:18 PM
Shea burned.
Not literally.
But her fingertips glowed with runes she didn't remember drawing.
She'd always been sensitive—able to sense emotions, a knack for herbs that grew better near her home than in any professional greenhouse.
But tonight, she had heard the whisper.
A name.
One no human should remember.
> "Akari."
And when she whispered it back, her windows exploded outward in a cascade of shimmering light.
She collapsed in her bathtub, shaking, glowing.
The candles around her lit themselves.
Water danced without touching her skin.
She wasn't normal anymore.
She was a witch.
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Rio de Janeiro — 11:11 PM (local)
Maya chanted words she had read in a leather-bound book her grandmother once buried in the yard during the purges.
She thought it was a joke. An old wives' tale.
But tonight, she felt the words.
They vibrated in her skull. Her eyes rolled back. Her mouth moved without her command.
The dead bird in her hand twitched.
Then it blinked.
And flew.
Her skin pulsed with symbols.
She wasn't the only one.
Across the world, dozens of witches woke.
Some in joy.
Some in madness.
But all of them—connected.
To the wound in the world.
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Who Were the First?
They whispered of one.
Akari.
The first witch. Not because she was the oldest. But because she chose her power.
She didn't find a spell in the woods.
She wrote the spells. She carved the bones. She licked the flame and made it her tongue.
Black magic. Not because it was evil.
But because it cost.
And Akari paid willingly.
Selene feared no man, no bound, no king. But she never touched Akari's mind without asking.
Because in Akari's thoughts were words not meant for ears.
And in Akari's shadows were names that the world forgot on purpose.
The Veil breaking didn't change her.
It just gave her more to feel.
More to call.
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The Elders' Realization
At the Thamesview Villa, they watched the map with bloodless faces.
Dots lit up where power surged.
Where Bound slipped their chains.
Where witches cast their first spells.
Dorian narrowed his eyes.
> "The balance is gone," he muttered.
Roux said nothing, but his knuckles were white.
Selene turned to Akari.
> "Your children are waking."
Akari gave no smile.
Only a slow nod.
> "The world doesn't remember how much it cost to forget us," she said.
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Joseph Knew
He stood at the edge of a cliff in southern Spain, overlooking a valley filled with ancient olive trees.
He could feel it.
Power.
Not his own.
Theirs.
The unbound. The witches.
He didn't fear it.
He planned for it.
> "The Elders forgot that you cannot bottle gods," he whispered to the wind. "You can only delay the reckoning."
Jasmine stood behind him, silent.
Wade looked down at his hands, where new veins pulsed with something restless.
> "It has begun," Joseph said.
> "Not yet," Jasmine replied. "This was just the scream before the storm."
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