It hurts. Everything hurts.
Why? Why did it still hurt so much?
Azra lay sprawled on the cold, jagged floor of the cavern, the chill of the stone biting into his skin. His every nerve screamed, as if his body still hadn't recovered from the torment he'd just endured. Somewhere beside him, his brother's shaky breaths broke the suffocating silence.
But Azra's mind wasn't focused on Erec. It was preoccupied with the searing memory of pain.
<
The moment his fingers had brushed the ancient chains, an agony beyond comprehension had ripped through him. It wasn't just pain in the physical sense- it was something deeper, something all-encompassing. It gnawed at his mind, clawed at his soul, and seemed determined to extinguish the very essence of who he was.
It wasn't trying to hurt him. It was trying to unmake him.
The chains were more than instruments of suffering. They were designed to torture and annihilate- to strip away body, mind, spirit, and will, piece by excruciating piece. Azra could still feel it, like a shadow clinging to the edges of his being.
<
His time in contact with the chains had been brief -just seconds- but that was enough. The memory of it had burned itself into him. He recalled hearing disembodied voices, ancient and malevolent, whispering in tones that felt like poison. He'd seen horrifying visions, every one of his deepest fears dragged into the open. He'd smelled flesh burning -a nauseating, acrid scent- and somehow he knew: it was Erec's flesh.
<
Azra forced his eyes open. His vision swam, blurry at first, but he could just make out the figure of Erec crouched nearby. His brother's eyes were fixed on the chained man, his expression grim.
<
"Your head really does look like a fishbowl." Azra muttered, his voice barely more than a rasp. His throat was raw, and his body still trembled with residual shock.
Erec didn't respond. He didn't even glance Azra's way. His attention was locked on the chains.
Azra tried to sit up, ignoring the protests of his battered body. The motion sent a sharp jolt of pain through him, and he hissed involuntarily. That seemed to snap Erec out of his trance. His brother turned sharply, his face a mask of tension, and leaned close.
"Keep your voice down," Erec whispered, his tone low and urgent. "Don't make a sound. We. Leave. Now."
"What are y-"
Before Azra could finish, Erec clamped a hand over his mouth. The roughness of his palm, calloused from years of labor and toiling in the wilderness, pressed hard against Azra's lips. When Azra looked up, he saw something unfamiliar in his brother's eyes, a look that wasn't just fear. It was command.
Obey.
For once, Azra didn't argue. His usual bravado had been stripped away, replaced by an unsettling emptiness left in the wake of the chains.
Slowly, Azra pushed himself off the floor, every movement an effort. As he rose, he glanced toward the source of their dread.
At the center of the room, the chains that bound the figure were changing. Fractures crawled across their metallic surface, each crack spreading like veins of rot.
Step by step, Azra and Erec began to retreat. They moved as one, backs to the wall, their eyes never leaving the sight of the nexus of chains. The room was deathly quiet now. The chains no longer rattled. The thick layer of dust that had coated them was now suspended in the air, glittering like motes of ash in the dim light. But even in the silence, the battle of force between the chains and their captive was suffocating- a force that pressed against them like a lead weight.
<
Their retreat was slow, cautious. Their feet barely lifted off the ground, sliding over the jagged stones. Azra's instincts screamed at him to run, to bolt for the doorway and never look back, but he couldn't. He didn't dare. It felt as though some invisible force tethered the chained man in place, and the moment Azra turned his gaze away, that force would snap.
<
The very notion was absurd -childish even- and Azra knew it. But he still chose to cling to that speck of hope- he had to.
The cold press of stone against Azra's back made him pause. They'd reached the edge of the chamber.
The cool draft of air from the doorway brushed against Azra's skin. Freedom was close. Yet every step felt harder than the last. The weight of the room clung to him, each second stretching into eternity.
<
Azra had never doubted his love for adventure before. But now? Now he wasn't so sure. The desire to live outweighed any curiosity he held for this cursed place.
Just as relief began to unfurl in his chest, a low rumble filled the cavern.
Azra froze. The sound came from the chains- or more precisely, from the mask of chains that covered the man's face. The noise grew louder, resonating deep in Azra's bones, and he watched in horror as chunks of the chains began to fall. Each fragment crashed to the ground with a force that scarred the stone, the sound echoing like the toll of a bell.
Then a single link broke free.
It revealed an eye.
A single, piercing green eye stared back at Azra, and his breath caught in his throat.
The sight seemingly jolted Erec into action. Without a word, he grabbed Azra's arm and pulled him hard, dragging him toward the door. As he was yanked forward, Azra broke his line of sight with the chained man.
The explosion came like a thunderclap.
The room erupted in a shower of shattered metal and dust, as the chains finally succumbed to the power of their prisoner. The force sent Azra sprawling. A sharp, searing pain shot through his thigh, and he cried out, his voice hoarse. The impact knocked the air from his lungs, and when he gasped for breath, all he inhaled was grit and debris.
Through the haze, Azra turned back toward the epicenter of the blast.
At the center of the room, the figure knelt, surrounded by a crater of his own making. He was motionless at first, but then he raised his head. Slowly, deliberately, he ran his hands across his face, a gesture that sent a chill down Azra's spine.
<
The cave was silent. Yet in the oppressive quiet, Azra could hear whispers comming from the crater.
He glanced at Erec, who lay a few feet away, battered but alive. A flicker of relief began to surface in Azra's chest- only to be snuffed out by a chilling realization.
He had broken the cave's most vital rule.
Never take your eyes off the chained man.
The voice that followed was deep, hoarse, and unnerving:
"Art thee eke?"