Chapter 7: Shadows of Chains
The path away from the gorge was narrow, winding between black pines that swallowed the dawn. The air still carried the echo of the chant from the night before, low as a heartbeat beneath the soil. Arin walked with Leira close at his side, her fingers brushing his sleeve as though reminding herself he was still there. Every creak of wood, every sigh of the wind in the needles, seemed like a whisper of the Order hunting them.
Selene led the column in silence, her hand always near the hilt of her curved blade. Kael ranged close behind her, grumbling under his breath but sharp-eyed. The rest of the small party—two archers, a healer, an older man burdened with packs—moved with nervous haste. No one trusted the quiet.
Arin tried to extend his sight, to scan the trees, but every time he reached too far the threads tangled, snagged on something unseen. He pulled back, shaken. It felt as though something pulled back on him, testing his strength. He clenched his fists. If he showed fear now, the others would feel it double.
Leira glanced at him. "You're pale," she murmured. "Don't push too hard."
He forced a nod. "I'm fine."
The lie tasted like ash.
---
By midday the group reached the remnants of an old stone waystation. The roof had long since fallen, but the walls still bore faint carvings, weathered by wind and rain. Arin felt the threads shiver as he touched the stone: an echo of travelers who had once rested here, their laughter and fear lingering like shadows. He pulled his hand back, dizzy.
Selene studied the ruins. "We rest here an hour. Keep watch."
Kael muttered, "As if the Chains will politely wait while we catch our breath."
Leira snapped, "Better tired than dead."
The bite in her voice silenced him. Arin felt a flicker of pride for her. She was not the same girl who had hidden behind him on the night of the raid; she carried her fear like a blade now.
As they settled, Arin wandered to the far wall. His eyes caught something carved deep: a spiral of lines, intersecting, almost alive with faint light. He reached, and for a moment the pattern leapt into clarity—threads binding, breaking, binding again. He saw flashes: the Order chanting in circles, chains wrapping around figures with glowing eyes, muffled screams. He staggered back, bile rising.
Leira caught him. "What is it?"
"Bindings," he whispered. "This place… it remembers."
Before she could press him, Kael called out. "Something's here!"
Everyone froze. A bundle of reeds had been tied at the edge of the ruin, its stalks carved with the same spiral Arin had seen on the wall. A symbol. A warning.
Selene's face darkened. "The Order left this. They know where we walk."
The healer crossed herself, muttering a prayer. The air thickened, heavy as lead. Arin's chest burned. He wanted to tear the reeds apart, but when he reached for them, his vision flared. He saw himself pulling the bundle apart—and with it, the ruin collapsing around them, stone and fire crushing. He stumbled back, gasping.
"They've laid a snare," he said. "Touch it, and this place will fall."
Selene's eyes flicked to him, sharp. "You saw this?"
He nodded, trembling. "I… I think so."
Her jaw tightened. "Then we move. Now."
---
The group hurried on, nerves fraying with every step. The path narrowed into a ravine, the stone walls rising on either side. Arin's eyes darted upward, searching the ridges. The threads twisted overhead, but nothing clear emerged. It was like looking through water. He hated it.
Leira touched his arm. "Breathe," she whispered. Her voice steadied him more than she knew.
They emerged at dusk into a small clearing where a stream cut through mossy ground. Selene raised her hand. "We camp here."
The others moved quickly, setting a fire, boiling water. Arin sat apart, staring into the stream. His reflection wavered—eyes glowing faintly even in the dark. He hated how alien he looked. He hated the whispers. Was he cursed? Was he dragging them all to ruin?
Leira came and knelt beside him. "Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Look like you're carrying the world alone." She bumped her shoulder against his. "I'm here too. Always."
The tightness in his chest loosened. He managed a small smile. "Even when I scare you?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Especially then."
The fire's glow painted her face soft. For a heartbeat, he let himself believe they could make it through. That belief lasted until the scream split the night.
---
Kael had been on watch. Now he stumbled back into the firelight, blood on his cheek. "They're here!"
Figures slipped from the trees, gray-cloaked, faces shadowed. The chant rose at once—low, thrumming, the same words as before. Bind the sight. Bind the bearer. Threads whipped around Arin's head, suffocating. He staggered as the cultists advanced, staves glowing with runes.
Selene's blade flashed. "Hold them!"
Arrows hissed from the archers, but warped midair, dropping harmless. The Order's chant deepened. The fire guttered as if strangled.
Arin's vision split. He saw Leira struck down. He saw Kael shackled. He saw himself chained, dragged into darkness. No. Not again.
Something inside him snapped. His sight surged outward, threads blazing. The cultists froze as the ground trembled. Arin's voice tore from his throat—not words, but a cry that shook the air. The staves cracked. One cultist fell screaming, his cloak igniting as unseen fire consumed him.
The others recoiled. For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Then a new voice rang out. Cold. Commanding.
"Enough."
From the treeline, a figure stepped forward. Masked, tall, robed in black and silver. The cultists bowed their heads. The masked figure's gaze fixed on Arin. Though the mask hid all, Arin felt the weight of those eyes pierce him.
"Unbound," the figure said softly. "At last."
Arin's knees buckled. Leira caught him, terror etched on her face. Selene stepped forward, blade raised, but the figure only lifted a hand. The chant ceased. The forest itself seemed to hold its breath.
Arin's vision flared again—images rapid, burning: chains shattering, a gate of stone opening, Leira screaming his name. Then darkness.
When his sight cleared, the figure was gone. Only the cultists' footprints remained, leading back into the trees.
Leira shook him. "Arin! What did you see?"
He swallowed hard, throat raw. "Something worse than chains."
The fire crackled weakly. Selene's eyes narrowed, her jaw set. "The leader has shown himself. We will not shake them now."
The forest groaned around them, branches swaying though no wind stirred. Arin stared into the shadows, his pulse a drumbeat in his ears. The masked figure's words echoed in his skull.
Unbound. At last.
And he knew, with chilling certainty, that the Order was not merely hunting him. They had been waiting for him all along.
--- END OF CHAPTER 7 ---