The dawn was gray, heavy with clouds that pressed low over the Guild's citadel. A silence hung across the compound—unnatural, deliberate. No sparring clamor. No barked orders. Only the hush of anticipation, as if the walls themselves waited for something cruel.
Ethan knew why.
He stood in the central courtyard, stripped of armor, his wrists bare but still circled with glowing chains of oath. Around him, initiates gathered in a half-ring. Their whispers were sharp and poisonous. Some eyes glimmered with pity. Others with hunger.
Shadowfang padded close at his side, golden fire flickering faintly through his fur. The wolf's presence steadied him, though the weight in his gut threatened to drag him under.
At the courtyard's edge, the Overseers stood in a solemn line. And before them, the Guild Master himself.
The crow-mask's voice carried like steel across stone.
"Today, one among you faces the Trial of Chains." His gaze, unreadable behind the mask, swept over the crowd and landed on Ethan. "Chains weigh heavier than blades. They bind more tightly than death. To lead, one must learn to endure them—or be broken by them."
A sharp motion of his hand, and the ground at the courtyard's center shifted. Iron plates ground aside, revealing a circular pit descending into darkness. Chains dangled like spider threads from its rim, each one swaying with the rattle of metal.
"Enter," the Master commanded.
Ethan's throat tightened, but he forced his feet forward. The whispers followed him like vultures circling a dying man.
He stepped to the edge. The pit yawned beneath him, black as a grave. Shadowfang growled low, hackles rising.
"I'll be fine," Ethan whispered, though the lie tasted bitter. He touched the wolf's fur, then leapt down.
The drop wasn't far, but the landing jarred his knees. The air below was damp, fetid, thick with iron. The pit was ringed with torches, their flames pale green. The chains dangling from above gleamed like serpents in the sickly light.
When Ethan looked up, the Guild Master loomed above like a crow over carrion.
"The Trial begins."
---
The chains moved.
At first, slowly. A faint rattle, like breath drawn before a scream. Then, without warning, they lashed down.
Ethan dodged, barely. One coil of iron slammed into the stone where he'd stood, sparks flying. Another whipped across his shoulder, tearing flesh. Pain flared, hot and raw.
The chains weren't ordinary. They moved with purpose, with hunger, like predators that had tasted blood before. Each strike carried weight beyond steel—his oath resonated with them, dragging at his bones.
Shadowfang leapt into the pit with a snarl, fire blazing from his mane. The wolf clamped his jaws on one chain, golden fangs crunching through metal. Sparks exploded, the links shrieking. For a moment, Ethan thought they might win.
But the chains multiplied. They coiled around Shadowfang's legs, his torso, even his throat. The wolf thrashed, fire surging—but the iron only glowed, drinking in his flame.
"No!" Ethan lunged, slashing with his dagger. The blade bit through one chain, then another. Shadowfang staggered free, though blood streaked his dark fur where the iron had cut deep.
Ethan pressed his back to the wolf's, chest heaving. The chains circled them like sharks scenting blood.
"This isn't a trial," he spat. "It's an execution."
Above, the Guild Master's voice drifted down, cold and merciless.
"All chains are executions, boy. The question is whether you drag them—or they drag you."
---
The battle blurred into chaos. Chains darted from every angle, striking with the speed of serpents. Ethan rolled, ducked, sliced until his arms burned. Shadowfang's flames lit the pit in a storm of gold and green, each burst buying them seconds of breath.
But still, the chains returned. Stronger. Heavier.
One coiled around Ethan's wrist, searing against his oath-brand. Agony lanced up his arm, white-hot. His knees buckled. Shadowfang lunged, tearing it free, but another wrapped Ethan's leg, yanking him off his feet.
He hit the stone hard. Chains constricted around his chest, crushing breath, grinding ribs. His dagger slipped from blood-slick fingers.
For a heartbeat, Ethan thought it was over.
Then Shadowfang howled.
The sound shook the pit, primal and furious. Golden fire erupted from the wolf's body, scorching every chain that dared to touch him. His eyes blazed brighter than the torches above, fierce enough to blind.
Through their bond, Ethan felt it—not just strength, but defiance. A refusal to kneel. A wolf's promise: I will not let you fall.
The fire coursed into Ethan, searing his veins. His chains burned—not breaking, but bending, loosening just enough. Air rushed back into his lungs. He seized his dagger, surged to his feet, and slashed with a roar.
Iron shattered. Chains writhed back like wounded serpents. For the first time, they faltered.
Above, the Overseers stirred, murmurs cutting sharp through the silence. Even the Guild Master leaned slightly forward.
---
The trial raged on. Minutes—or hours—bled together. Ethan lost count of how many chains he severed, how many times he fell. His body was a map of wounds, his vision blurred with blood and sweat.
But he did not stop. Could not. Every time his knees threatened to buckle, Shadowfang's presence surged through the bond, steadying him. Every time Shadowfang faltered, Ethan's voice cut through the chaos, urging him onward.
In the end, it was not skill that kept them alive. Not strength. But a shared defiance.
When at last the final chain recoiled into the dark above, the pit fell silent. Ethan stood swaying, chest heaving, Shadowfang pressed against his side. Both were bloodied, scarred, but unbroken.
A slow clap echoed above.
The Guild Master's voice carried down, unreadable.
"You did not break."
Ethan lifted his head, teeth gritted. "Was that the point? To see if I'd snap?"
"No." The Master's tone was soft, almost reverent. "The point was to see if you could carry chains without letting them carry you."
The iron pit sealed with a grinding shudder, leaving Ethan and Shadowfang standing alone in the flickering green light.
When they were finally hauled back to the surface, silence met them. Not whispers. Not pity. Silence, sharp and uneasy.
Every initiate, every Overseer, even Lyra—watched him with something new in their eyes. Not contempt. Not hunger.
Fear.
---
That night, Ethan could not sleep. His body was broken, every movement fire. But his mind churned louder than the pain.
The chains had not only tested him. They had recognized him. Pulled at his oath like it was a key.
And in the moment Shadowfang's fire had flowed through him, something else had awakened. Something darker. The chains had loosened, but not because of defiance alone.
They had yielded. As though they knew him. As though he belonged to them.
He stared at the glowing brand on his wrist, the faint outline of links etched into his skin.
What am I becoming?
Shadowfang's golden eyes glowed from the darkness, watching. Protecting.
Ethan closed his eyes at last, but sleep brought no peace. Only the rattle of chains, echoing in dreams that felt far too real.
---
Chapter End.
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