Chapter 19 - Chapter 19 — The Break

The cell reeked of damp stone and old sweat, its heavy silence punctuated only by the guttering torches beyond the iron bars. Veer sat against the cold, unforgiving wall, wrists raw where the iron shackles had gnawed into his flesh. Restlessness churned beneath his skin, a hunger twisting with every shallow breath, heavy with the weight of captivity and the pulse of capturing energy within.Across the cold floor, Suriya sat cross-legged, hands folded calmly over his knees, eyes sharp, alert yet unyieldingly tranquil. Near the bars, Anika crouched, palms cupped in silent concentration, fingers twitching not with the air, but with the thoughts and energies she sought to control. The plan had been spoken, counted, accepted—a madness made necessary."You sure about this?" Anika's voice barely stirred the stale air. The runes etched deep along their chains glowed faint black, bruiselike against the metal. "These bonds aren't ordinary. They dampen active aura—our power meant to shift the world."Veer's eyes flicked from the marks bleeding faint light on his wrists to Anika. "They dampen what we push outward. What they put into us—the energy we gather and hold—remains. Your shockwaves strike me, and I become a reservoir, a bomb waiting to shatter. That's the only way."Suriya's voice joined, quiet but certain. "I can time the gravity—local, precise—to amplify each impact. It's dangerous. But safer isn't an option."Anika's lip thinned. "So I batter you until you explode.""Until the runes crack," Veer's voice held steady. "Until the locks shatter."They formed a circle of will. Anika rose, palms pressed to the stone floor, exhaling a low bell-tone that vibrated through the cell. The first pulse was subtle—an unseen ripple that shook dust loose from the dungeon's cracks. Veer braced against the invisible flood, feeling it surge from his feet upward, pounding into the core of himself. Like a held note searching for its release.Suriya's hands hovered, conductor-like, over this kinetic orchestra, his breath steady, nails biting into palms while he choreographed gravity itself. The unseen pressure tightened—a subtle vertical squeeze bent the air, stone, and prisoner into a deadly harmony of compression. Physics required no spectacle, only leverage.Anika struck again. The shock smashed across Veer's body like a stone into brittle bone. His teeth clenched, but he did not give way. With each wave, he folded explosion into coil, tightening raw kinetic fury beneath his sternum—a beast of steel bent nearly to breaking.The rhythm took hold.Pulse. Release. Collapse. Build.Prisoners shuffled, sensing the desperate cadence. Some thundered feet in crude sympathy, an impromptu percussion to an insane symphony.Veer tasted iron on his tongue, bone and sinew tight with pain. The runes smoked faintly, pressured by the violent howl building within. He breathed like drowning—cataloging, converting, enduring.The seventh wave brutalized him. Anika's palms cracked, tiny scars blossoming into furious proof of sacrifice, but she pushed forward; Suriya's grip curled like iron, then loosened in release. The torches flickered, shadows convulsing as though the very cell responded.Then the shatter came.Not clean but jagged—a scream of metal torn apart, sparks raining like ghost fire. The shackles along Veer's wrists split, cold biting flesh as power flooded free in a spiraling release. With a roar, he blasted the lock, the heavy door soaring open in shuddering defiance.Veer staggered, lungs roaring, the world around him shimmering in the violent aftershock.For a breath, they stared—shock mingled with wild, soaked joy.Then the alarms bellowed.Boots thundered, orc cries shattered the silence.There was no time for triumph.Suriya unleashed gravity's wrath—ripping footing from pounding guards with deadly precision. Anika's shockwaves lashed hinges and knees, scattering foes like frightened prey.From their cage, Veer, Anika, and Suriya poured into twisting corridors—a labyrinth fouled with smoke, blood, and the stench of burned flesh. Torches sputtered as they fled, each step measured but desperate.Seconds ticked like thunder.They moved as one chaotic force—Veer's limbs heavy, ringing with the echo of unleashed power. Suriya's deft gravity flickers tripped foes into blazing braziers, while Anika nearly collapsed but drove her trembling hands once more to tear an escape corridor through fallen chains.Bursting into an open yard, guarded by flickering watchfires, their eyes locked on a grim sight: priest-orcs and shamans congregated in dark ritual. Flames whispered black and violet, curling mockery around figures carved from nightmare.At the ritual's center, a woman stepped forth.A crown of charred bone rested on her brow, robes swirling like smoke and shattered glass. Her violet eyes glimmered in torchlight, the air cracking under the weight of storm and command.Veer's breath hitched. She was the orc mage—the queen of illusions—whose twisted craft had bent battlefields and bound innocents as tribute.Anika faltered. "The queen," she whispered, dread threading her voice.Suriya's jaw clenched. "We've walked straight into the fire."The queen laughed, low, delighted—hands rising as darkness stirred beneath her will, fracturing reality into a living nightmare.The forest bent to shadow-beasts; flames became wailing mirrors; stone twisted with mindless hunger.They were small, foolish sparks in a black kiln.The orc uproar rose—the hunt had begun.Veer knew in that sharp, cold moment—their hard-won freedom was a siren's call, drawing the ire of the strongest force in the stronghold.Seconds remained.Fight—or die.