The Guild bell tolled like a hammer against the soul.
Each clang rolled through the halls, shaking dust from the vaulted ceilings, summoning every hunter, every beast, every shadow-bound servant. The sound wasn't simply a summons—it was a command, an ancient binding written into the marrow of those who bore the chains.
Ethan felt it pulse in his blood, heavy as iron. Shadowfang snarled, resisting the instinct, golden fire flaring against the call. Ethan gritted his teeth and pressed a hand against the beast's flank.
"We don't bow," he whispered.
Lyra was already beside him, serpent coiling restlessly, tongue flicking the air like it sensed the storm ahead. Her face was pale in the torchlight, but her eyes carried that same quiet defiance. "This is it," she said. "The Master won't wait any longer."
The corridors filled with hunters moving like sleepwalkers, their beasts trailing obediently. Some cast wary glances toward Ethan, muttering his name like a curse—or a prayer.
The great hall yawned open before them, vast and echoing. Every torch was lit, casting firelight on the banners of broken chains that hung from the blackened stone walls. Hundreds of hunters stood in rows, beasts crouched at their sides, their collective silence heavier than any battle.
And then, the Master arrived.
He descended the dais like a shadow made flesh, his robes darker than the torches could touch, his mask a pale visage of iron without feature. Chains spilled from his sleeves and trailed across the floor, living things that coiled and writhed like serpents. The Overseers bowed as one.
The hunters followed, dropping to one knee, chains in their souls pulling them down.
All except Ethan.
He stood. Shadowfang at his side, Lyra beside him. His knees trembled under the weight of the compulsion, his veins burned with searing fire, but he did not bow.
The Master's faceless mask turned toward him. The hall held its breath.
"You resist." The voice was not sound but weight, echoing inside skulls and bones. A voice of chains themselves. "Why?"
Ethan swallowed the pain and raised his head. "Because I'm not yours to command."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Hunters dared glances at him, some with awe, others with fury.
The Master's chains slithered across the dais, dragging like rivers of steel. "You wear the marks. You carry the bond. You are Guild."
"No," Ethan said, his voice cutting across the chamber. "I am hunter. The chains do not own me."
The words struck like lightning. Hunters gasped. Some clutched their beasts as though his defiance would infect them.
The Master's faceless mask tilted, unreadable. "Then prove it. Kneel, or be broken."
Shadowfang growled, fire flaring along its fangs. Ethan laid a hand on the beast's shoulder. "We don't kneel."
For a heartbeat, the hall stood frozen.
Then the Master lifted one hand.
Chains erupted.
They burst from the stone floor like roots of iron, lashing toward Ethan, wrapping around his arms, his chest, his throat. They seared against his skin, dragging him toward the floor. Shadowfang roared, jaws clamping down on the chains, golden fire burning them to ash, but more came, endless, relentless.
Lyra's serpent flared with fire, striking at the bonds that slithered for her throat. She cried out, her blade flashing as she severed link after link.
Ethan's vision blurred under the pressure. The command thundered in his skull: Kneel. Submit. Obey.
But beneath it, something else stirred.
The mark on his chest burned with furious light. Not the Guild's chains, but the echo of what he had taken from the Shackleborn—the corrupted bond he had bent to his will. It pulsed like a second heartbeat, alien yet his own.
Shadowfang pressed against him, their bond surging, and the chains faltered.
Ethan drew in a ragged breath and shouted, voice cracking but unyielding. "I am not your weapon!"
The marks blazed. Chains binding him shattered, fragments ringing like bells. The ground split beneath his feet, light bursting outward in a shockwave that hurled back the nearest Overseers.
The hall descended into chaos.
Hunters staggered, some clutching their heads as the weight of the Master's command clashed with the spark of Ethan's defiance. Some fell to their knees screaming; others rose with wild eyes, beasts snarling as though tasting freedom for the first time.
The Master's faceless mask turned toward him, unreadable. But Ethan felt the fury behind it, colder than fire, sharper than steel.
"You dare."
The chains writhed like oceans, coiling, striking, a tide of metal and will.
Ethan drew his blade. Shadowfang roared, its fire igniting into a storm of gold. Lyra stood at his side, serpent blazing, her eyes locked on his.
"If we fall," she whispered, "we fall free."
And they met the storm.
---
The clash was beyond battle. It was will against will, bond against bond. Every chain that struck Ethan shattered against his blade, every lash burned in Shadowfang's fire. Lyra fought with deadly grace, her serpent tearing steel apart like flesh.
But for every chain they broke, more came. The hall itself seemed alive, the walls groaning, the banners writhing as if stitched with links of living metal. Hunters screamed, torn between obeying and resisting. Some turned on each other, beasts clashing in the frenzy of broken oaths.
Through it all, the Master advanced. Slow, inexorable, a tide that could not be stopped. His voice boomed inside their skulls.
"You are nothing without chains. You are nothing but beasts without masters."
Ethan spat blood, blade gleaming in his hand. "Then I'll be the beast that tears you apart."
The marks on his skin flared brighter than ever before, burning not with the Guild's command but with his own will. The corrupted bond fused with his soul, no longer alien but his. He wasn't breaking chains anymore—he was remaking them.
Shadowfang's fire twined with his heartbeat, golden light consuming the dark steel that sought to bind them. For the first time, the Master staggered, chains recoiling as if scorched.
Gasps tore through the hall. Hunters froze, staring as the impossible unfolded before them.
The Overseers cried out in rage. "He defiles the Oath!"
But some hunters, trembling, rose to their feet beside him. One drew his blade and shouted, "No! He breaks it!"
Others joined, beasts snarling, chains falling slack as the command weakened. The hall began to split—not in whispers now, but in open defiance.
The Master raised both arms. A sea of chains erupted, blotting out the torches, blotting out the hall itself.
Ethan lifted his blade high, Shadowfang roaring at his side, Lyra standing unbroken beside him.
And when the tide crashed down, he met it head-on.
---
Chapter End.
---