The Oath of Chains

Jann stood in the training hall, facing his cousin, Dain Oath. The cold stone walls echoed with the sound of their footsteps as they circled each other. Around them, a handful of the Oath Family's younger generation watched in anticipation. It was a sparring match, but everyone knew that within the Oath Family, nothing was ever just a simple test of skill.

Dain smirked. "Let's see if you've improved since last time, Jann."

Jann tightened his grip on the wooden training sword. He had always been at a disadvantage in these matches. The other heirs relied on their ability to dominate their opponents, forcing them into submission with raw power. Jann, on the other hand, had to rely on instinct and technique.

The instructor, a grizzled old warrior named Torik, raised his hand. "Begin."

Dain wasted no time, lunging forward with a powerful swing. Jann sidestepped, barely avoiding the strike. He countered with a quick jab, but Dain parried effortlessly and shoved him back.

"Still too slow," Dain taunted, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

Jann gritted his teeth. He had trained harder than ever, but he could feel it—the difference in power. The Oath Family's dominator bloodline surged through Dain, allowing him to force his strength upon others. Jann had no such luxury.

Yet.

Dain came at him again, this time feinting to the left before swinging from the right. Jann barely managed to bring up his sword in time, the impact sending a jolt up his arms. He stumbled back, but his mind was racing.

I need to adapt. I need to think differently.

He focused, letting his instincts take over. He recalled his training, the way Elara had drilled into him the importance of reading his opponent. Dain relied on brute force and dominance, but that made his movements predictable.

When Dain swung again, Jann ducked at the last second and twisted behind him. Before his cousin could react, Jann swept his leg out, knocking him off balance. Dain hit the ground hard, a stunned expression crossing his face.

The room fell silent.

Jann stepped back, lowering his weapon. "Looks like I've improved after all."

Dain's expression darkened, but before he could respond, Torik stepped forward. "Enough. The match is over."

Jann exhaled, tension still coiled in his muscles. He could feel the eyes of the others on him—some surprised, others irritated. He had defied expectations today, but he knew it would come at a cost.

Dain stood, brushing himself off. His smile returned, but it was sharper now. "Not bad. But let's see how you fare when it really matters."

Jann said nothing, only nodding as he turned away. He could feel the shift in the air, the silent acknowledgment that something was different about him. And that made him dangerous.

-----

Later that evening, Jann found himself in the library, pouring over ancient texts. Elara sat across from him, sipping her tea, watching him with quiet amusement.

"You handled yourself well today," she said.

Jann sighed. "Dain won't forget it. Neither will the others."

"Good. Let them wonder. Let them question." Elara set her cup down. "Your power is waking up, Jann. Soon, you'll see the true difference between you and them."

He hesitated before asking, "What exactly does being a Pactweaver mean?"

Elara leaned back. "Unlike the others, you don't take power—you share it. The stronger your bond with someone, the more powerful both of you become. It's a connection built on trust and respect, not domination. That is why the Oath Family will see you as a threat."

Jann absorbed her words, the weight of them settling on his shoulders. "And what if I don't want to be a threat? What if I just want to exist without having to prove anything?"

Elara smiled, but there was sadness in her eyes. "Then you don't understand the world we live in, Jann. In this family, power is the only thing that keeps you alive. Whether you like it or not, you will have to fight for your place."

Jann clenched his fists. He had always known his family's ways were brutal, but now he was starting to understand just how deep it ran. If he wanted to survive, if he wanted to carve his own path, he would have to embrace his power.

But he would do it his way.