Chapter 8: Echoes of Power
The forest felt colder after the masked figure's appearance, as if the trees themselves had heard his words and bent to listen. The group broke camp at dawn, their movements sharp with unease. No one spoke much. Even Kael, usually quick with jibes, stayed silent, his eyes darting to the shadows. Arin walked with Leira at his side, her hand brushing his arm every so often, a tether against the storm inside him.
He could still hear the leader's voice in his head. Unbound. At last. The word gnawed at him. What did it mean to be unbound? Was he free—or already trapped in a fate he could not escape?
Leira seemed to sense his turmoil. "You don't have to carry it alone," she whispered. "Whatever it means, we'll face it together."
Arin wanted to believe that. But in the hollow of his chest, doubt coiled like smoke.
---
By midday, they reached a clearing where the forest gave way to broken ground. Jagged stones jutted upward, and a faint trail cut through. Selene halted, raising a hand. "Stay sharp. This ground is wrong."
Arin let his sight stretch. Threads tangled unnaturally ahead, twisting into knots. His stomach churned. "It's a ward," he said. "Something laid to trap us."
Kael muttered, "Wonderful. Can't go forward, can't go back. Perfect."
Before Selene could answer, a voice called from the rocks. "You're right, boy. It's a ward."
The group spun, weapons drawn. From behind a jagged outcrop stepped a man cloaked in brown and green. His beard was streaked with gray, his eyes sharp as flint. He carried no weapon save a staff carved with strange sigils.
Selene's blade was in her hand. "Name yourself."
The man raised his empty palm. "I mean no harm. My name is Darius. I've been watching the Chains for longer than I care to admit. And I think you need my help."
Kael scoffed. "Another stranger from the trees? Convenient."
But Arin felt something different in this man. The threads around him hummed, not in chaos but in rhythm, as if he were part of the forest itself. Arin narrowed his eyes. "You're not one of them?"
Darius shook his head. "I was. Long ago. Before I learned the truth."
The words dropped like stones. Everyone stiffened. Selene's eyes narrowed. "You were a Chain?"
"I was a scribe," Darius said quietly. "I copied their songs, their runes. I believed in their vows. Until I saw what they did to children like you." His gaze fixed on Arin. "Eyes that could see beyond. They bound them. Buried them alive. Called it salvation. I call it murder."
Silence pressed heavy. Even Kael had no retort.
"Why help us?" Selene asked.
"Because the Order won't stop. And because I know where you're going." Darius tapped his staff against the ground. "The Hollow Archive. I can get you there."
---
They argued. Kael distrusted him immediately. Selene weighed his words with suspicion. But in the end, they had little choice. The ward ahead pulsed with danger, and Darius alone seemed to know how to dismantle it. With a few measured strokes of his staff and whispered words, the knots of light unraveled, the path clearing like mist under the sun.
Arin watched, unsettled. This man carried knowledge of the same threads he barely understood. Was this what control looked like? Calm, deliberate, without fear?
As they walked, Darius fell in step beside him. "You feel them, don't you?"
Arin hesitated. "The threads?"
Darius nodded. "Every breath, every heartbeat, every lie. They tug at you. Pull you toward places you don't want to see."
Arin's throat tightened. "How do you live with it?"
"You don't." Darius's smile was sad. "You learn to guide it. Or it breaks you."
Leira moved closer, eyes wary. Arin caught the tension in her shoulders. She didn't trust this man, not yet. He couldn't blame her.
---
That night they camped by a stream. The water glowed faintly with moonlight, silver ripples curling like threads. Arin sat apart, staring into it. The reflections twisted, showing faces he didn't recognize: a girl with hair of fire, a man with chains wrapped around his chest, Leira crying alone. He clenched his fists, willing the images away.
Darius joined him. "The Eye shows what is, what was, what could be. You can't control what it reveals. But you can control how you answer it."
Arin turned to him. "Teach me."
Darius studied him a long moment, then nodded. "Tomorrow."
---
Training began at dawn. Darius drew lines in the dirt, spirals and intersecting arcs. He had Arin trace them with his sight, not his hands. At first Arin failed; the lines blurred, slipped away. But slowly, with focus, he began to follow them, to see how they connected. It was exhausting, sweat beading his forehead, but for the first time he felt a thread settle instead of whip wild.
Leira watched, pride and worry mingling in her eyes. "Don't push him too hard," she told Darius.
Darius only said, "The Order will push harder."
---
By midday they reached a ravine where a bridge of stone had once stood. Now only shattered pillars remained. Across the gap, the path continued toward rolling hills. Darius frowned. "The Chains have sealed this road."
Selene cursed under her breath. "Options?"
"Two," Darius said. "Circle wide through the marshes, lose days. Or cut through their ward directly."
Kael snorted. "And walk right into their trap. Brilliant."
Arin stepped forward. The threads glowed faintly across the gap, weaving like a net. He reached with his sight, testing. Pain lanced through his skull. He staggered. Leira caught him.
"What did you see?" she demanded.
"Chains," he whispered. "Not real ones. Threads. They'll bind anyone who tries to cross."
Selene's jaw tightened. "We don't have days to lose." She looked at Arin. "Can you undo it?"
Arin's stomach knotted. The last time he had tried, he nearly collapsed the world around him. He shook his head. "I don't know."
Darius placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then let me guide you."
Together, they stepped to the edge. Arin let the threads fill his vision. Darius's voice was steady, a metronome against the chaos. "Don't fight them. Feel where they knot. Where they pull. Then… release."
Arin reached. Sweat poured down his face. His hands shook. The threads tightened, resisting, but slowly—painfully—they unraveled, the net loosening until it snapped apart with a sound like breaking glass.
The path cleared. The group crossed quickly, wary. On the far side, Leira grabbed Arin, holding him upright. "You're burning yourself out," she whispered fiercely. "You can't keep doing this."
Arin leaned into her, exhausted. "I don't have a choice."
But in his heart, he feared she was right.
---
That night, as the fire burned low, Kael cornered Selene. "We can't trust him." His glare cut toward Darius. "He was one of them. How do we know he's not leading us into a trap?"
Selene's gaze was hard. "I don't trust him. I watch him. But he knows things we need. Until we reach the Archive, we use what we can."
Unbeknownst to them, Arin sat awake, hearing every word. His chest twisted. Was he being led to salvation—or deeper into chains?
---
In the dead of night, Arin woke with a start. The forest was silent, too silent. He reached with his sight—and froze. Shadows moved at the edge of camp. Dozens of them. The chant began, low and thrumming. Bind the sight. Bind the bearer.
He scrambled up. "They're here!"
Selene and Kael leapt to their feet. Arrows hissed through the dark. Darius raised his staff, runes blazing, a shield flaring to life. The cultists pressed closer, their staves glowing.
Arin's sight caught something worse: one of the shadows wasn't attacking. It was watching. The masked leader, standing still, his gaze fixed on Arin.
Leira's voice cut through the chaos. "Arin!"
He turned just in time to see two cultists break through, seizing her arms. She screamed, struggling, but the chains wrapped fast, glowing as they tightened.
"Leira!"
Arin's vision flared white. Threads blazed, snapping around him. The cultists staggered, but the chains tightened still. The leader's voice echoed across the clearing.
"Unbound one. Choose: save her, or save yourself."
Arin's cry split the night. He reached with everything he had, the world spinning into fire and threads. The ground cracked. The cultists were thrown back. But when the light cleared—
Leira was gone.
--- END OF CHAPTER 8 ---