The call came at dusk.
Vaelrik stood at the edge of the ravine outside Menagerie Hold, watching shadows stretch across the land. Skarn waited behind him, tense, while Zephyrion circled overhead, wings beating slow against the darkening sky. Valgrin remained within the Hold, guarding the Vaulting Gate. The air was still.
The cry echoed again.
It came from below.
Vaelrik stepped to the edge. The ravine gaped wide, a scar in the earth, its depths lost to mist. He rested his hand on Tempest Fang, the storm blade humming faintly. The Brand burned beneath his skin.
"Skarn, guard the ridge," he said quietly. "If I do not return, burn it all."
Skarn growled low, but did not follow as Vaelrik descended.
The climb was steep. Loose stone shifted underfoot. The mist thickened. A scent filled the air, metallic and sharp, like rusted iron. As he dropped lower, the rocks beneath his boots changed. They were marked, carved with runes he did not know, glowing faintly in the mist.
Chains lined the walls.
At first, he thought them relics, broken remnants of some ancient prison. Then one moved. Twitched. Breathed.
Living chains.
They stretched along the rock, pulsing with life, writhing slowly as he passed. He kept moving, blade ready, eyes locked ahead.
The cavern opened before him, wide and circular. Shafts of dim light pierced the mist, illuminating the center. There, bound in a nest of chains, knelt a beast.
Not massive. Not hulking.
Human-sized.
Its form was hidden beneath layers of metal and bone. A mask of rusted iron covered its face. From its back, chains sprouted like wings, coiled and tense.
The Brand flared.
The creature raised its head. Behind the mask, eyes glowed faint blue.
"Another Sovereign," it rasped. "Come to crown... or be crowned."
Vaelrik stepped forward.
"You are Writhe. You will kneel."
The creature laughed, a dry sound like breaking stone.
"Many tried. Few lived. I am Forge. I am Chain."
Chains lashed outward.
Vaelrik dodged, blade flashing. Tempest Fang sliced through one, severing it. Sparks flew, but the chain twitched and reformed. More shot toward him. He rolled, striking again. The cavern shook with every impact.
The beast rose, lifted by its chains, hovering above the ground. It moved like a spider on webs, fast and unpredictable. Chains slammed into the rock around Vaelrik, trapping him, cutting off paths.
He gritted his teeth and swung the blade again. Lightning sparked, cleaving through iron. One chain coiled around his leg, tightening. He fell to one knee.
Pain lanced up his thigh. Blood welled. The chain dug deeper.
Vaelrik snarled and drove the blade downward. The chain snapped, and he surged upright. The creature shrieked, and chains rained from the cavern ceiling, aiming to bury him.
He moved through them, relentless. Every strike burned. Every step cost him. Yet he pressed on.
A chain struck his shoulder, knocking him aside. Another wrapped his wrist. He fought back, but more chains followed.
Then the creature spoke again.
"Kneel. I will forge you into more."
The chains flared, and Vaelrik saw something.
A vision.
Himself, bound. Masked. Chains sprouting from his back. Not Sovereign. Slave.
He roared and shattered the vision with raw will. Tempest Fang ignited in his grip. The Vaulting stirred, power racing through his blood.
He leapt.
Steel struck flesh. He reached the creature's chest and drove the blade in deep.
"I kneel to none."
The creature screamed. The chains recoiled.
Vaelrik tore the blade free and pressed the Brand to its mask.
The Vaulting opened.
Light poured forth, golden and wild. Chains snapped and fell. The creature collapsed.
The crown mark burned into its mask.
Behind Vaelrik, the Vaulting blazed. A new Edict waited.
Beast Sovereign
Chapter 6: The Beast That Spoke in Chains
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Segment 2 of 2
The Vaulting blazed behind him.
Vaelrik stood over the crowned beast, breath ragged, his hand still pressed to the mask. The chains lay shattered around them, twitching weakly before dissolving into mist. The air was thick with energy, sharp and raw, like lightning caught in stone.
The Brand pulsed. Power surged up his arm, into his chest, then deeper. The Vaulting stretched wide, its walls rippling with molten light.
A shape took form before him.
Not a weapon.
An Edict.
It spun into existence like a forge hammer striking steel, each pulse of energy forging the shape. Chains, not of iron, but energy, coiled around his arm, linking to the Brand.
The voice came, deep and final.
Edict Gained: Chainforged Grasp
Harness the remnants of the forged Writhe. Bind, break, or pull with chains of dominion.
Vaelrik flexed his hand. Chains of light flickered in the air, vanishing when he willed them. The power was subtle, precise. Not brute force like Skarn, nor destructive like Valgrin. It was control. Anchored, inevitable.
The Vaulting narrowed again. The crowned beast stirred, smaller now, its chains gone, form hunched but alive.
Vaelrik knelt before it, eyes sharp. "You are mine now. You will serve, not as a weapon... but as proof."
The creature looked up, its mask cracked, eyes silver.
"I served chains," it said softly. "Now I serve the crown."
Vaelrik studied it, then stood.
"Chains bound you. I broke them. That makes us even."
A faint pulse of light echoed from the Brand, not violent, but steady.
Skarn waited at the top of the ravine. Zephyrion flew low overhead. Valgrin's flame flickered in the distance. As Vaelrik climbed, the Forge Writhe followed, not in fear, but in silence. Its steps were sure.
At the ridge, Skarn growled low, watching the newcomer. Vaelrik raised a hand.
"It is crowned. It stands."
Skarn backed away. Valgrin landed, eyes glowing. Zephyrion shrieked once, circling them all. The crowned beasts gathered around Vaelrik, not as friends. As forces.
He looked over them, then toward the east.
Smoke rose on the horizon. Not from Thronelords. Not from beasts.
From something else.
Vaelrik turned to the Forge Writhe. "You forged chains. Can you track what beasts have been bound?"
The creature nodded slowly. "I feel them. Not just one. Several. Scattered. Bound by different hands. One near. The others... hidden."
Vaelrik nodded. "We start with the nearest. The rest will fall in time."
The Forge Writhe looked to the smoke. "That fire... it is not wild. It is called. A beast bound by force. It suffers."
Vaelrik's eyes narrowed. "Then we end its suffering. And crown it before it breaks."
He turned to the others.
"Prepare. We move before nightfall. Let the world see. Another crown will rise."
The beasts answered. Not with words. With presence. A storm in the making.
And in the distance, that fire burned brighter.