The scream had no sound.
When Elara and Tomas struck the key into the Hour, the plain shattered like glass, the chains above convulsing as if struck by lightning. Shadows disintegrated into black dust. Aldric howled, his body unraveling into pure chain.
And then—silence.
Not emptiness. Not quiet. A silence that pressed down like the ocean, thick and suffocating. Tomas's breath caught, his chest refusing to rise. His heart stuttered. For one terrifying instant he thought he was dead.
Then his eyes opened.
They stood no longer on a plain, but in a vast chamber of lightless stone. A single chain ran through its center, so massive it seemed to pierce both sky and abyss. Its links were carved with faces—screaming, weeping, some familiar. Elara recognized them all.
The keepers.
Every one of them, trapped here, their souls the Hour's links.
Her hand flew to her mouth. "Gods…"
The Hour's voice filled the chamber. This is the heart. This is what keeps the silence. Do you see now? You are not girl. You are chain. Your place waits among them.
Tomas swayed, almost collapsing, but he forced himself upright. His blood dripped onto the stone, burning like acid. "No. She's not yours."
Aldric materialized from the shadows, his body stretched tall as the chamber itself, chains for limbs, his skull a hollow lantern of fire.
"She is mine," he thundered, voice shaking the faces on the chain. "Always mine. Always the Hour's."
Chains lashed down at Tomas. He raised his broken sword, deflecting one, but the impact shattered the blade. He was hurled across the chamber, blood spraying. His ribs cracked.
"Tomas!" Elara cried, rushing to him. But Aldric's chain wrapped her waist, lifting her off the ground.
The Hour's voice coiled in her skull: One command, and he dies. One command, and you live eternal.
Her eye blazed like a sun. Her human eye swam with tears. She saw Tomas struggling to rise, his hands raw, his body wrecked.
"Elara…" His voice was a whisper, yet it cut sharper than Aldric's roar. "Don't you let it take you."
The faces on the great chain began to stir. They turned toward her, one by one. Her grandmother. Her father. Dozens of ancestors. Their mouths moved in unison.
"Elara… join us. End the boy. Be free of the pain."
Her chest tightened, breath failing. The chain's weight dragged at her soul. For a heartbeat, she imagined it—laying down her burden, stepping into the chain, dissolving into silence.
It would be so easy.
But then Tomas coughed blood and forced himself to his knees. His eyes met hers. Steady. Fierce. Human.
And that was harder than silence.
"Elara," he rasped. "Stay with me."
Her tears burned as they fell.
Aldric lunged, chain-arms snapping forward. Elara twisted, the key erupting with fire. She slashed downward, severing the chain that bound her. The chamber shook with the impact, faces screaming as the great chain bled light.
The Hour shrieked. Traitor! Child of dust!
Elara fell, landing hard on the stone, the key searing in her grip. Tomas staggered to her side, one arm around her, the other gripping the jagged shard of his broken blade.
They stood together, broken and burning, before the Hour's heart.
And for the first time, Aldric faltered.
"You… you cannot…" His voice wavered, his chains thrashing wildly. "You cannot sever the Hour!"
Elara's voice shook, but it did not break. "Watch me."
She raised the key again.
The great chain screamed.
The faces on the chain writhed.
Some wept, others laughed with hollow joy. One, pale and sunken-eyed, stared directly at Elara. "I carried it for fifty years," he rasped, though his lips barely moved. "The silence never let me go. Do not resist. It will hurt less if you give in."
Another—her grandmother—lifted her head. Her voice was a knife of sorrow. "Child, you were born for this. Do not waste yourself on him."
"Elaraaa…" the chain groaned in a hundred voices. "Join us. Become link. End the boy."
Elara's body trembled, the key pulsing in her hand like a second heartbeat. She wanted to scream. To run. To tear her ears from her skull. Instead she stared at Tomas.
He was barely standing. Blood smeared his chest. His ribs shifted unnaturally when he breathed. He had nothing left—but still, his hand wrapped tighter around the jagged shard of his sword, holding it as if it were enough to change the world.
His eyes—always his eyes—were locked to hers. "Don't you dare leave me."
Aldric's chains lashed down, slamming the stone. The chamber shook. The faces on the chain shrieked in unison.
"She cannot save you, boy!" Aldric roared, his voice breaking with fury. "She was always ours!"
He dragged Elara into the air again, chains wrapping her limbs, her throat, squeezing until her vision darkened. Her body convulsed as the Hour's fire poured into her veins. The sun-eye blazed, her human eye blurred with tears.
Her reflection shimmered in the air before her—perfect, crowned, radiant. "Why fight, Elara? You will lose him. Better to let go. Better to become what you were meant to be."
Her grip on the key weakened.
Tomas moved.
He should not have been able to, but rage fueled him, grief fueled him. He staggered forward, broken blade raised. His lungs rattled. Blood poured from his side. Still, he slammed the blade into Aldric's chain-arm with a guttural roar.
The chain shuddered. Aldric snarled, turning, his fire-crown flaring. "You are nothing! You are dust! Stay down!"
He hurled Tomas across the chamber.
The boy crashed against the stone, coughing blood, unable to rise. His vision blurred black. His body screamed surrender.
But his eyes still searched for Elara.
And when they found her, he smiled. Broken. Bloody. Defiant.
Her heart broke.
"Elara."
It was not his voice this time. It was the chain's faces, her family, her bloodline, her entire history.
"Elara, you are the keeper. He is a shadow. He will die in a moment. We will endure forever."
The key throbbed. The Hour's voice drowned all else: One choice. End him. Keep silence. Become chain.
Her hands shook violently. Her knees buckled. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out.
Then Tomas coughed again, spat blood, and whispered hoarsely across the chamber:
"You're still Elara."
Her tears streamed hot down her burning skin.
The chains squeezed tighter, about to snap her bones. Aldric loomed, towering, his fire-crown blazing, his laughter breaking like thunder.
And then—Elara screamed.
The key erupted in her grip, brighter than fire, brighter than suns. She slashed downward, severing the chain that bound her throat. Light flooded the chamber, burning faces, unraveling shadows.
Aldric reeled back, chains writhing. "NO! YOU CANNOT—"
But she wasn't done.
She landed beside Tomas, one arm around him, the other raising the key toward the heart of the Hour—the massive chain itself.
"Watch me," she whispered.
And she struck.
The chamber convulsed.
The great chain screamed with every face, a cacophony of agony. Cracks split its links, spilling rivers of light. Aldric shrieked, his body unraveling, chains snapping from his limbs.
The Hour's voice thundered: TRAITOR. CHILD OF DUST. YOU WILL BE UNMADE.
Elara fell to her knees, light pouring from her veins, the key melting into her hand. Tomas clutched her, his body shielding hers from the shockwave even as it tore him apart.
And then—silence.
The faces on the chain turned to her. Not pleading now. Not commanding. Simply watching.
Waiting.