The Chains Tighten

The world was a blur. One moment, Kael had been locked in battle, clawing for control against Elias' overwhelming power, and the next, he was here—somewhere else, somewhere dark and cold. The taste of iron still coated his tongue, and his body ached as if something inside him had been pulled too tight, then snapped.

He barely registered the rough texture of stone beneath him as he pushed himself up. His vision swam, and for a split second, the edges of the world seemed to ripple, as if he were still standing within the Veil. But when he tried to grasp at it, to draw it forth like before—he couldn't.

It wasn't just exhaustion. It wasn't just the aftereffects of the fight. Something was wrong.

"Kael!" Ronan's voice cut through the haze, sharp with concern. His face appeared in Kael's vision, brows drawn together in frustration. "Come on, stay with me. Are you—"

Kael lifted a hand before Ronan could finish. "I'm fine." The words were hoarse, but they came out steady. He forced himself upright, shaking off the disorientation. He refused to look weak—not now, not after that.

A few feet away, Varian stood in silence, his arms crossed as he observed Kael with the same unreadable expression he always wore. If he was shaken by what had happened, he didn't show it.

But the way his gaze flickered, lingering for a fraction of a second too long on Kael's forehead—on the mark—told Kael everything.

Kael felt it now.

Something cold curled beneath his skin, embedded deep where Elias had pressed his fingers against his forehead. It wasn't just a mark—it was an anchor. A tether.

And worse, it was doing something to him.

His emotions felt distant in moments, like he was experiencing everything through a thin veil of detachment. Other times, instincts that didn't feel like his own whispered at the edges of his mind, brief but intrusive. They weren't thoughts, not exactly. More like… suggestions. And they were growing harder to ignore.

Ronan must have noticed something was off because he grabbed Kael's shoulder, giving him a small shake. "You're zoning out again." His usual playful tone was gone, replaced by something closer to frustration.

Kael clenched his fists. He had noticed too. His awareness flickered in and out, slipping like sand through his fingers. It was subtle now, but how long before it wasn't?

"Removing it won't be simple," Varian finally spoke, his voice calm yet firm. "Elias didn't just leave a mark on you. He left control. And from what I saw, he has no reason to rush using it."

Kael exhaled slowly, his grip tightening. He's toying with me. Keeping me alive for his own amusement.

"Do you know how to remove it?" Kael asked, his voice colder than before.

Varian tilted his head slightly. "There are ways. None are simple. And none will be without consequences."

That wasn't an answer, and Kael knew Varian was choosing his words carefully. He didn't trust them with the truth yet.

"Then I'll find my own way," Kael muttered.

Varian only gave a slight smile, as if he expected that response.

"So what do we do now?" Ronan asked, his voice heavier than usual. "Because sitting around while some snake freak has his hooks in Kael doesn't seem like a good idea."

Varian exhaled through his nose. "The fact that we're still alive means Elias doesn't consider us a threat. That could work in our favor, if we use it correctly."

Kael hated hearing that. He hated the truth in it.

Ronan scowled. "You're saying we use the fact that we're weak?"

"I'm saying we use the fact that we're beneath his notice," Varian corrected. "That gives us time to prepare."

Kael stayed silent, staring at his hands. The fight replayed in his mind—the moment he had felt like he was getting somewhere, the moment he had finally begun pushing back against Elias… only for everything to be stolen from him in an instant.

If he wanted to survive—if he wanted to win—he couldn't just get stronger. Strength alone wasn't enough.

"Then we prepare," Kael finally said. His voice was calm, but something cold burned beneath it. "We don't run. We don't hide. We find a way to remove the mark. And then we make sure next time, Elias doesn't walk away laughing."

His words sent a ripple of silence through the group.

Then, Ronan grinned, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Now that sounds like a plan I can get behind."

Varian simply nodded.

Later, when the others were focused elsewhere, Kael sat alone. His thoughts churned, spiraling in ways they hadn't before.

He had spent so long simply reacting. Getting caught up in events, forced into choices he never truly had control over. And he had been fine with it. He had thought survival was enough.

But now?

He couldn't just survive. He had to move forward. He had to stop letting others dictate his path.

Elias was strong. Unimaginably so. But Kael refused to be crushed beneath him again.

If he wanted to win—if he wanted to truly stand above—he couldn't just rely on getting stronger. He had to be smarter. More ruthless.

His old self had died back there in that fight. What remained now was something colder.

And he was ready to embrace it.

By the time they moved out, Kael felt different.

The weight of Elias' influence still lingered, the mark burning faintly beneath his skin. But now, instead of fear, instead of uncertainty—Kael felt something else.

Purpose.

For the first time since this all began, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

As they left, he glanced down at his hand, flexing his fingers. A faint pulse ran through them—something inside him stirring.

He exhaled.

One day, Elias would regret letting him walk away.

And when that day came, Kael would make sure he was the one laughing.