A Mother's Chains

The fire crackled softly, its glow flickering against the trees. The night was calm, almost deceptively so, but Finn couldn't shake the unease curling in his chest. He had been restless ever since Aria told him the truth, the words repeating in his mind like an echo he couldn't silence.

Your mother is alive.

It didn't make sense. He had mourned her for years, accepted the painful truth that she was gone. But now, standing here, the possibility of her being out there—somewhere—felt more terrifying than comforting. If she was alive, where had she been? Why hadn't she come back? And if she was truly in Saraphine's grasp, what had become of her?

Aria sat beside him, her presence steady, but he could feel the way her fingers trembled slightly as they hovered over his. She had seen the way he froze earlier, the way his face drained of color when he heard the news. She understood the weight of it, but no words could lessen the storm raging inside him.

The air shifted.

At first, it was subtle, a ripple that could have been mistaken for the night breeze. Then it grew, thickening into something suffocating. A heavy pressure settled over them, an unnatural stillness that sent a warning through Finn's bones.

Kael tensed, his hand instinctively flying to the hilt of his sword. Across the fire, Quinn narrowed his eyes, straightening his posture, his gaze scanning the trees. Lyric stirred from where she had been resting, her fingers instinctively curling around the runes on her belt. They could all feel it now.

Something was coming.

The fire flickered—then, without warning, a blast of dark energy tore through the trees. The ground trembled beneath them as a violent gust of wind sent embers spiraling into the air. Finn barely had time to react before a figure stepped into the clearing.

A woman.

The moment he saw her, his breath caught in his throat. Her golden hair, once as bright as sunlight, was now streaked with dark veins, as though corruption had seeped into every strand. Her silver eyes, once filled with warmth, burned with an unnatural violet glow. And wrapped around her wrists were chains—long, crackling tendrils of black magic, pulsing like living shadows, binding her to something unseen.

She did not speak. She only raised a hand.

A wave of black fire shot toward them.

"Move!"

Kael shoved Aria out of the way as the attack exploded against the ground, sending shockwaves through the clearing. Finn barely managed to roll aside in time, the heat licking at his skin as he hit the earth hard. He scrambled to his feet, his pulse a frantic rhythm in his ears.

She stood motionless, watching them. There was something eerily familiar about the way she carried herself, something that sent ice curling through his veins.

Then she spoke.

A whisper. A memory.

"Finnian..."

The sound of his name in that voice shattered the world around him. His stomach twisted violently, his mind screaming in denial even as his heart whispered the truth. No. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.

But the way she said his name—the tremble, the fragility—made something deep inside him crack wide open.

It was her.

His mother.

Alive.

And she was attacking them.

"Finn!"

Aria's voice yanked him from his daze just as another blast of dark energy shot toward them. He barely had time to react before Kael dragged him back, the attack colliding with the ground where he had just been standing.

Kael and Quinn surged forward, weapons drawn.

"No, wait—" Finn gasped, but they were already moving.

His mother lashed out again, her corrupted power slamming against Kael's sword with a force so strong it sent him skidding back. Lyric's hands burned with blue fire as she began chanting a spell, her voice sharp and steady, ready to counter the next attack.

Finn's chest tightened. This wasn't right. This wasn't her.

"STOP!"

The word tore from his throat like thunder, reverberating through the clearing.

Everything froze.

His mother flinched. Her glowing eyes flickered—just for a second. His heart pounded.

"Finnian...?"

Her voice wavered this time, uncertain, like something buried deep was struggling to break free. He took a shaky step forward, ignoring the fear clawing at his ribs.

She tensed. The chains around her wrists pulsed violently, dark magic crackling as if resisting his presence. He could feel it—the unnatural force holding her captive, warping her mind. Saraphine's hold was strong.

His hands clenched into fists. His pulse roared in his ears. He had one chance.

Restore the light.

Ignoring the warning shouts from his friends, he stepped forward.

His mother's fingers twitched, her body shuddering as though caught between two forces. Her hand lifted as if to strike—

But before she could, Finn moved.

He pressed his palm against her chest.

A burst of golden light erupted from his fingertips, clashing against the darkness within her. She gasped, her entire body jolting as the black tendrils twisted violently, fighting against the force. Finn gritted his teeth, pouring every ounce of magic he had into her, pushing past the resistance, past the pain.

"Come back," he whispered, his voice raw with desperation.

The chains trembled. Then shattered.

The darkness in her silver eyes vanished. Her body swayed—then collapsed into his arms.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. His breath came in ragged bursts, his hands still glowing faintly as he clutched her. Then, slowly, she exhaled. Weak fingers curled into the fabric of his tunic.

"Finnian," she whispered.

His throat tightened. He held her closer, his heart aching with relief.

"Mama."

The others stood in stunned silence, the moment fragile, delicate—like the calm before a storm.

Then, far away, in the depths of her lair, a furious, piercing scream shattered the night.

Saraphine stood, her dark robes swirling around her as shattered remains of a scrying mirror lay at her feet. Her hands curled into trembling fists, her breath ragged with fury.

The chains that had once bound Finn's mother had broken, leaving nothing but fractured magic in their place.

She had lost.

Finn had won.

Her lips curled back into a snarl. The shadows around her seethed, swirling in violent tendrils, pulsing with her rage. But this was not over. No. This was only the beginning.

She turned toward the towering figure standing in the darkness behind her, her voice sharp with command.

"Prepare everything."

The figure did not speak. It only nodded once before vanishing into the abyss.

Saraphine's golden eyes gleamed with malice. A slow, sinister smile spread across her lips.

"Enjoy your victory," she whispered. "Because soon, I will take everything from you."