The first chain trembled as though it were not forged of metal, but of sinew and bone. Its blackened links shuddered with a grotesque vitality, rattling in fits that shook the very cavern walls. Sparks leapt and spat from its surface, brief flares of crimson, hot and angry, each one hissing against the damp air before fading into the unsteady glow of their torches.
Leo's hand hovered only a breath away from the door. The air between his palm and its surface felt thick, charged, as though space itself bent beneath the weight of unseen power. His skin prickled with frostbite's sting, yet within his veins, fire surged, liquid flame coursing hotter with every heartbeat.
The whisper inside him had become something more than voice. It had swelled into a chorus, dozens of tones twining together into a harmony that smothered his thoughts. He could no longer tell where his own mind ended and theirs began.
Break it. Break it. You are not whole. You are not yet alive.
