The bells tolled harsh that morning, the sound ringing too loud, as if the metal itself had been struck in anger. Students stirred uneasy, their voices low, their eyes sharp. The Academy had grown used to whispers, but today those whispers carried weight.
"They've summoned a trial.""The priests demanded it.""Team Two is to be tested, before all."
The corridors filled with rumor. Some laughed nervously, glad the priests' gaze was not on them. Others watched Team Two with a mixture of envy and dread.
Ernest walked through it all, his black eyes steady, his stride unhurried. Silence parted the way as it always did, but today, that silence was sharper. Rowan walked beside him, shoulders set, though his jaw trembled faintly with the effort of resolve. Mikel followed, unhurried, his calm presence steady. Celina walked apart, her emerald eyes unblinking, her cursed wrist trembling beneath her sleeve, but her composure unbroken.
On the terrace, the priests waited. Their white robes gleamed against the gray stone, their pale faces calm, their smiles thin. The old one with lashes white as frost raised his hand.
"The gods demand proof," he said softly. His voice carried, though it was no louder than a whisper. "Chains bent. Beasts knelt. Curses steadied. Such things must be weighed. Today, in the courtyard, all will see. The Trial of Chains begins."
Halvern's spectacles flashed, his jaw tight. Serren stood nearby, staff clenched, his expression grim. Neither spoke against it. None could.
The courtyard had been transformed. Students gathered in a wide circle, their voices buzzing like flies. At the center, chalk lines sprawled—circles within circles, runes etched by priestly hands. At the far end stood a cage, heavier and darker than any before, its bars black iron etched with red sigils. The air around it reeked of ash and blood.
Inside the cage lay something chained and shrouded in cloth. It shifted, chains rattling, a low growl vibrating through the ground.
"The Trial," the old priest intoned, "is simple. Team Two will enter the circle. The relic of chains will be brought forth. The beast bound by it will be unshrouded. They will not kill. They will not flee. They will contain. They will endure."
The students murmured, their eyes wide. Some leaned forward eagerly. Others crossed themselves against curses.
Halvern's staff struck stone. "Team Two. Step forward."
Rowan's breath caught. His hands trembled, though he clenched them into fists. Mikel's expression did not change; his steps were steady. Celina's eyes narrowed, the curse already stirring. Ernest moved as though none of it mattered, his calm a blade sharper than fear.
They entered the circle. The chalk lines hummed faintly underfoot. The cage groaned. The shroud was pulled free.
What crouched inside was neither wolf nor goblin, nor abyss hound. It was larger, heavier—something once human, perhaps, its body twisted by chains that bit deep into flesh, glowing faintly with red runes. Its eyes burned hollow. Its mouth gaped, teeth jagged, breath steaming. The chains binding it pulsed with light, echoing the fragment Ernest had touched days before.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"A chainbound.""They're using that?""It will kill them—"
The old priest's lashes lowered and lifted. "Begin."
The chains shattered.
The chainbound lunged, a roar tearing the air. Its claws struck the chalk, sparks flying. Students shrieked, stumbling back.
"Rowan," Ernest said, his voice sharp.
Rowan flanked left, his blade cutting wide, loud. The creature turned, eyes snapping to him.
"Mikel."
The steady boy moved right, his strike precise, drawing blood but not frenzy.
"Celina."
Her hand flared. Green-white fire burst forth, biting into chains, slowing them. The curse clawed her wrist; she forced it down, her jaw tight.
The chainbound roared again, chains snapping like whips. Rowan's blade met one and splintered, shards cutting his cheek. He stumbled but did not fall.
Ernest stepped forward, his black eyes narrowing. His voice slid out, low, merciless.
"Kneel."
The chainbound faltered. Its knees bent. Its roar choked. But the runes burned brighter, the chains resisting, fighting. It struggled against his command, trembling but not fully bowing.
The priests leaned forward. Their smiles sharpened.
"Break him," one whispered.
Ernest's voice cut deeper. "Still."
The creature froze, trembling, sweat dripping down Ernest's temple. The Veil hummed, strained, but held.
"Bind," he ordered.
Rowan surged, rope in hand, though his arm bled. He lashed chains together, his jaw clenched. Mikel's knots held them firm, his hands steady even as claws raked near. Celina's fire burned runes away, sparks flying.
The chainbound shrieked, struggling, but it bent. Slowly, painfully, it bent.
The courtyard was silent, save for breath and chains.
At last, Halvern's staff struck stone. "Containment complete."
The priests whispered. The old one smiled faintly, lashes pale against his skin.
"Yes," he murmured. "Even chains obey. Dangerous. Very dangerous."
The students erupted in whispers, their voices like storm.
"They did it.""They contained a chainbound.""Aldery commanded it.""Gold's fire. Stag's rope. Rane's knots.""They are unstoppable."
Ernest stood calm, merciless. Rowan panted, blood streaking his cheek, but his jaw was set with pride. Mikel wiped his hands, steady as always. Celina's wrist trembled, but her emerald eyes were calm, defiant.
That night, the Academy hummed with rumor. Whispers crawled through every hall, every chamber.
"Team Two cannot be broken.""The priests will try harder.""Aldery commands gods' chains."
Rowan lay in his chamber, his hands raw, but for once he smiled faintly through pain. Mikel sat at his desk, writing calmly by candlelight. Celina sat by her window, her flame reflected in glass, her eyes sharp.
In his own chamber, Ernest lit his lamp low. He opened his notebook.
Priests struck openly. Trial of Chains. Team Two endured.
Rowan bled, but did not falter. Pride tempered into strength.
Mikel unshaken. Anchor in storm.
Celina cursed, but bent fire to command. Recognition deepening.
Voice bent chainbound. Too visible. Priests hunger sharper than ever.
He closed the book, stood at the window. The courtyard lay pale, the chalk circle still glowing faint from runes. Across the green, Celina's candle burned steady. Rowan's lamp glowed faintly. Mikel's light constant.
His reflection stared back—pale, calm, merciless.
"The forest bent," he whispered. "The nobles bowed. The beast knelt. The chain obeyed. The bound fell."
His lips curved, thin, sharp.
"And the priests—let them test. They will not break us. I am the Voice that commands—even in silence."