Chapter 6: Floor 6 – The Choir of Chains

The stairway to Floor 6 spiraled tighter than the others.

It groaned underfoot, lined with tarnished brass pipes that hissed steam with every step. No wind. No sound. Just the whisper of worn boots and the labored breaths of the survivors. The deeper they climbed, the more the air grew heavy—thick with tension, with weight that pressed down like unseen hands.

Then they heard it.

A voice.

No—a dozen voices. Then a hundred.

A distant, haunting harmony that echoed through the walls like a requiem sung in an ancient tongue. It was neither beautiful nor harsh—it was binding. A sound that made the soul feel caged.

Eren faltered, one hand against the wall.

The voices weren't just heard.

They were felt.

Rorik noticed. "You hear it too?"

Eren nodded, his shard pulsing with growing intensity. "It's not just music. It's… something more."

They emerged from the stairwell into a massive cathedral-like chamber, dimly lit by chains that hung from the ceiling like vines. The walls were etched with runes, and long metal pillars stretched endlessly into the gloom above. In the distance, silhouetted against the glow of floating braziers, stood cloaked figures—tall, faceless, unmoving.

The Choir.

Each wore shackles of gold and iron, their limbs draped in robes that writhed unnaturally, as if alive. And each sang a single note, together forming a song that wormed into the minds of all who heard it.

Porters dropped to their knees, sobbing. One clawed at his ears until they bled.

Eren stepped forward—and the shard screamed.

"Warning: Cognitive suppression field active."

"Sentient harmonic resonance detected. Do not listen."

Too late.

The song coiled around his thoughts like vines, tightening, pulling him down into memory—not his own, but a tapestry of endless pain and obedience.

He saw souls in chains, bound to the tower itself, once rebels or mages or kings who defied its will. Their punishment: to sing, eternally, maintaining the spells that powered the tower's defenses.

They weren't alive anymore.

But they weren't dead either.

Rorik bellowed something behind him. The Guard had formed a line, but one man had already wandered into the open space, drawn toward the Choir. The moment he crossed the threshold—

The chains moved.

Like snakes awakened, they lashed out and impaled him, pulling his screaming body into the air. The Choir did not stop singing. In fact, the melody grew louder.

A new voice had joined.

Eren staggered back. The shard throbbed like a second heart now, fighting the pull of the Choir. He held it high—and it flared, casting a dome of flickering blue light around him.

The pressure lifted.

The others crawled into the dome's protection, breathing hard.

"We can't fight them," one of the mercs rasped. "They're not real!"

"They're real enough to kill," Rorik growled. "We need a way through."

Eren stared at the far end of the hall, where a gate of silver chains blocked the passage to the next stairwell. It pulsed in time with the music. He understood then—this was the lock. The Choir was the key.

And the shard? The shard could rewrite.

"Override possible," it whispered.

"Counter-harmony required. Sing."

"What?" Eren whispered aloud.

"Sing."

He didn't know the words. But the shard fed them into his mind—a counter-harmony, old and broken, a forgotten melody etched in the tower's base code.

His voice cracked at first. But as he sang, the shard amplified it. The choir hesitated. A few broke their notes. Their heads turned—no faces, yet they watched him now.

The melody warred in the air—discordant, grinding like two blades drawn together. Chains rattled. The gate quivered. The song of the tower faltered.

And then—

Snap.

One by one, the Choir began to fall silent.

Their shackles broke. Their robes collapsed to the ground like discarded skins. The chains slithered back into the ceiling.

And the gate opened.

Silence returned. Not peace—never peace in the Tower—but a moment to breathe.

Rorik eyed Eren, his jaw tight. "That… was impossible."

Eren didn't answer. His throat was raw, the last note still vibrating in his bones. The shard was dim now, as if exhausted.

He glanced back once as they left.

Where the Choir had stood, nothing remained.

But the melody lingered in his mind.

And it would never leave.