The silver chains trembled in the sky, humming like a choir of blades.
Eron pushed against them, veins bulging, teeth bared, eyes burning with madness. But the chains only tightened. They weren't metal. They weren't magic in the way mortals knew. They were Vyn herself—her anger, her judgment, her will made form.
Her voice broke across the ruined horizon, colder than ice. "You've taken enough from me. From all of us."
The chains snapped downward.
Eron slammed into the ground with a thunderclap. Stone split, flames flared, dust rose high—but the chains didn't break. They pinned him like a beast, their glow searing against his flesh. He roared, the air shattering with raw sound, black fire spilling from his body as he forced himself upright.
"Don't talk to me about taking!" His eyes glared up at her, bloodshot, wild. "That brat Lucian made me what I am. Don't you dare blame me for tearing it apart!"
