Chapter 264: The Weight of Chains
Sleep was impossible. Even when Kael closed his eyes, Zerathis's words echoed through him like hammer strikes against an anvil.
Break me. Defeat me. Only then will I bend.
It wasn't just a threat. It was a challenge — a test of strength, of will, of who Kael was at his core. The daemon's words gnawed at him, slipping past every barrier of discipline Kael had built for himself.
By dawn, he was already at the training grounds.
The recruits stood in their neat lines, spears and swords in hand, waiting for Rogan's barked orders. The morning air was cool, mist clinging to the ground like thin smoke, and the scent of steel and sweat filled the yard. Kael strode in without ceremony, snatching up a wooden practice blade. His presence alone drew murmurs from the younger soldiers — the Hollow's lord, training among them?
Kael ignored them. His muscles burned to be tested. He pushed himself into the drills with a ferocity that unsettled even him.
Every strike he threw, he imagined Zerathis before him. Every parry, every kick, every feint was against the daemon's towering shadow. His blood ran hotter, his movements heavier and sharper than before.
Pairs of recruits came forward at Rogan's call, but Kael tore through them without effort. A sweep of the leg. An elbow to the ribs that cracked against bone. A blow across the jaw that sent one sprawling into the dirt, spitting blood. Another charged, shield raised high, and Kael slammed him flat with a shoulder strike that shattered the wooden frame in two.
"Kael!" Rogan barked, storming forward. His face was flushed with anger. "You're tearing them apart!"
But Kael barely heard him. His body moved on instinct, faster than thought. He disarmed another recruit with a vicious twist, then brought the dulled edge of the wooden blade down so hard across the boy's arm that the lad howled, clutching his wrist as he collapsed to the ground.
Thalos appeared in an instant, his hands glowing with healing magic. He shoved between Kael and the trembling recruit, shouting, "Enough! You'll cripple them if you keep this up!"
The training yard went silent. Recruits lay groaning in the dirt, clutching bruises and cuts, staring at Kael as though he'd turned into something monstrous before their eyes.
Kael froze, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his brow. He looked down at his hands — steady, unshaken, powerful. Too powerful. The wooden practice blade splintered in his grip, pieces falling to the ground.
"…I didn't mean…" he muttered, shame clawing at his throat. Rogan's glare was sharp as steel, but Kael turned before he could speak further. He couldn't bear the sight of the recruits' fear.
He walked. Past the forges, past the homes, past the rhythm of hammers and the laughter of children. He walked until the sound of the Hollow faded into silence, until the forest swallowed him whole.
There, beneath the vast canopy, Kael finally stopped. He sank to the earth, cross-legged, his palms pressing into the soil. The moss was damp under his fingers, the air cool and sharp with pine. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe.
Zerathis could be an ally. The thought spun through his mind like a spark fanning flames. If I can break him, bend him, he could be a weapon sharper than any sword, a shield stronger than any wall. He shares my hatred of chains, of false kings, of being caged.
But then came the darker thought.
If he lies… if he cannot be tamed… then he will burn everything I have built to ash.
Kael opened his eyes to the forest canopy above, where light speared through in fractured beams. He whispered to himself, low and dangerous:
"I can defeat him."
But even as the words left his mouth, doubt lingered like a shadow at the edge of his heart. Was that belief born of wisdom… or arrogance?
A soft rustle behind him made him turn. Lyria stood there, arms crossed, her golden hair catching the dappled sunlight. Her expression was part stern, part worried — the look of someone who knew him too well to be lied to.
"I knew I'd find you here," she said quietly, stepping closer. "You've been… distant. Ever since you went down into the dungeon last."
Kael let out a sharp exhale, rubbing a hand across his jaw. "I didn't want to burden you."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare say that to me. We share everything. If something's weighing you down, you tell me."
For a moment, Kael hesitated. But then the words poured out of him, raw and heavy.
"I can't hide this from you anymore." He looked her straight in the eye. "Zerathis gave me a gauntlet. He said if I want him as an ally, I have to break him. Defeat him. Only then will he bend. And gods help me, Lyria… I want to fight him. I want to subjugate him and use him to protect our people. To protect you."
Lyria's breath caught, her brows furrowing. "Kael, you're talking about unleashing something that terrifies even you."
He nodded, jaw tight. "Yes. And that's what makes him valuable. If I can bring him to heel, then nothing—no human army, no daemon horde, no false king—could ever threaten us again."
Silence hung between them. The forest seemed to hold its breath.
Finally, Lyria knelt in front of him, cupping his face in her hands. Her touch was grounding, steadying, everything he needed.
"You're not a weapon, Kael. You're a leader. You don't have to carry this weight alone." She searched his eyes, her voice softer now. "If you truly believe Zerathis can be tamed, I'll stand by you. But promise me this: don't risk everything we've built on a gamble. Don't lose yourself trying to control him."
Kael closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, the knot in his chest loosening just slightly. "I promise nothing will take me from you," he murmured. "Not even him."
And in that fragile moment, with her forehead pressed against his, he let himself believe it.