Chapter 27 – The Chains That Bind.

  Leo rose an hour before the twin suns could decorate the skies of the demon realm. The last remains of night clung to the rooftops like stubborn memories. He sat in shadow, hands gripping the hilt of his sword, listening to the soundless breath of a world on the verge of awakening.

  Their room above the tavern was still—a rare hush gripping the city beyond. Leo’s gaze drifted across his two companions. Ryan slept lightly, a dagger clutched beneath his pillow. Reed dozed in full armor, one gauntleted hand curled under his chin, visor left open as if to catch the morning breeze.

  Leo stood and felt the familiar weight of worry in his chest. Answers waited past the horizon—answers maybe too heavy for dawn itself.

  He nudged Ryan, who blinked awake, immediately sharp.

  “Hey, what’s the rush?” he whispered. “You look like you haven’t slept a wink since the last hag’s warning.”

  Leo managed a soft smile. “Get up. Today’s the day.”

  Ryan rolled out of bed, stretching the stiffness from his limbs, boots thumping softly on the wooden floor. Reed woke without a word, unbuckling and re-buckling his greaves with ritualistic care.

  As they gathered their gear, Ryan spoke quietly, a note of concern in his voice.

  “Leo… after all this is over, you’ll finally explain what’s going on between you and the old tower master, right? I’m starting to feel like the only one here without a script.”

  Leo’s expression tightened, worry etched around his eyes.

  “We’ll talk after this, my friend. I would tell you everything—if I even understood all of it myself.”

  Reed, who had been absent during yesterday’s revelations, glanced between his companions but chose to set his questions aside. Something in the air this morning, some heaviness in Leo’s words, warned him that time pressed close behind.

  The trio packed in ritual silence—Leo sheathed his flaming sword and slung the tattered cloak across his shoulders, Ryan double-checked his belt of daggers and thief’s tools, and Reed polished the battered silver of his armor until even the weak light caught on it like a defiant star. Each man carried more than weapons and dreams now; sorrow and resolve weighed equal in every step.

  They slipped out of the tavern, boots echoing on empty cobblestone. Not a soul stirred in the city’s heart. The houses, once bustling with commerce and gossip, were now wrapped in a hush broken only by the distant cry of a hawk wheeling overhead.

  Their path wound through silent streets toward the outskirts, where wild grass pressed against the last stone cottages, and the city’s might faded into shadow. The trio reached the edge of the city as dawn began to bleed color into the far horizon. The outline of the old cottage appeared ahead—a splotch of dark against the new day. Here, on the threshold of fate, silence thickened.

  Leo approached the door first, every sense screaming warning. The boards, scuffed and worn, creaked beneath his touch. No candlelight flickered within; no voice rose in greeting. He eased the door open. Inside, the shadows had a different weight—a tension not borne of dust or age.

  A lone figure stood silhouetted inside, back to the entrance, still as a painted ghost. The silence pressed in, every second stretching into threads pulled taut.

  Ryan’s breathing grew shallow. Reed’s gauntlet creaked on his hilt.

  Leo stepped forward and called softly,

  “Melody… let’s go. We don’t have much time.”

  His voice barely broke the hush.

  The figure turned. Mana-bound runes glowed cruelly across her mouth. Leo’s heart hitched, breath locked in his chest as terror and fury flashed in his eyes. Melody’s eyes pleaded, wild and helpless.

  His mind screamed—trap—even as the ground beneath him pulsed suddenly with cold, violet light.

  The floor erupted in a complex circle of runes, each sigil burning purple-white. Mana in the room surged with violence, rising like a tidal wave. The air throbbed.

  “Run!” Ryan yelled, but the warning was too late.

  Chains flickered to life overhead—phantom at first, then real and solid as iron born of magic. They snaked down faster than any mortal hand, binding Leo, Ryan, and Reed from shoulders to feet. Their weapons fell, echoing on the floor with brutal finality. Leo threw his weight against the restraint, but the more he strained, the tighter the chains bit into skin and armor.

  The room filled with a swirling violet gas—thick, bitter, numbing. Leo’s strength faded rapidly. His limbs felt carved from lead; eyelids fought to remain open.

  Across from them, the cottage door opened once more. Sandals scraped. A scrawny, impossibly tall demon entered, beard falling to his waist. He wore a grand purple robe hemmed in gold and midnight blue, and his eyes—red-rimmed and cold—settled contemptuously on the trio.

  Even in his haze, Leo’s mind recognized him: Scorn, the tyrant himself. The current master of the Mage Tower, whose shadow blackened every hope in the city.

  Scorn sneered.

  “Quite stubborn for mere pests. The insects squirm, and still they think themselves kings.”

  He raised an ornate wand. Runes burst from the tip, swirling and dancing through the gas.

  Leo fought to remain conscious, glaring, teeth bared.

  Scorn’s voice was a smooth whisper.

  “Sleep. Let the chains of fate bind you as tightly as your own pride. Throw these pests into the dungeon where they belong.”

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  The world faded to black.

  ***

  **Down the Spiral**

  Leo awakened to a cold, gritty floor, aching and disoriented. Heavy shadows pressed in from every side; the air stank of mildew and old blood. Distant sounds—dripping water, muffled cries, the slow grind of a rusted gate—echoed in the blackness.

  He blinked until the world came into focus. All around him, mossy stone walls rose—thick, ancient, despair carved into every brick. Overhead, faint torchlight flickered, casting long, warped shadows across the cell floor.

  Reed and Ryan lay beside him, similarly groggy, hands still bound but chains now mere manacles at their wrists and ankles.

  “Where—?” Ryan hissed, sitting up and clutching his head.

  “Dungeon,” Reed muttered, voice grim.

  Across the corridor, a figure moved—a gaunt, robed man, weary but proud, chains biting his wrists but not his spirit. Leo felt, more than saw it: the presence of old strength, wisdom hidden in suffering.

  An old demon with silver hair and stern golden eyes peered through the bars. The scars across his brow marked him as one who had survived more than prisons.

  “Young Leo,” the man whispered, “fate finally brings us face to face.”

  Leo stared in disbelief.

  “You’re the old master... Melody’s father—the one they call traitor.”

  A gentle smile.

  “Traitor to tyrants, perhaps. And friend to your father.” His gaze softened. “I am the one who sealed your memories. The chain binding your truth and power. I did so to save your life.”

  Leo’s voice trembled.

  “Why? Why did you take my memories?”

  The old master spoke, voice thin but charged with history.

  “It was necessary. Your light shone so bright—to hide you, to save you from the tyrant king’s gaze. You will learn the truth in time, Leo.”

  Leo spoke with conviction.

  “Can you help me remember?”

  The old master, Gale Tombslayer, spoke.

  “It’s time then to unlock your binds, to break the shackles.” Gale laughed saying this.

  Gale, with his hands shackled, raised his hand. His body was ruined, but still he was nonetheless a demon who reached the realm of Archmage.

  Whispers flew out his mouth. Mana in the air vibrated violently. All the prison’s mana took shape. A gentle blue haze formed in the air. The haze flew towards Leo.

  Leo was surprised.

  “Accept it, my boy. We have only one chance,” said Gale.

  The haze of mana formed a whirlwind with Leo in its eye. Then it grew fiercely. The prison was filled with air. Ryan, Reed, and the old master were all pushed back by the wind currents, their bodies pressed against the prison wall.

  The storm then flew into Leo via all his orifices. The mana haze vanished into Leo. Leo fell to the ground.

  Ryan spoke, “Leo, Leo...”

  The old master interrupted, “Stop, don’t disturb him. He is currently fighting against himself. He will wake up when he wins.”

  Ryan replied, his gaze worried, his voice low,

  “What if he loses?”

  Gale replied, “Then he will never wake up.”

  Reed silently grinned at the revelation.

  Gale spoke after a silence,

  “Don’t worry.”

  Ryan replied,

  “How can I not worry, he is my friend.”

  Gale spoke,

  “Exactly. Trust him, he is your friend. Also, don’t forget—he is the blood of the great Demon King Leonardo.”

  Hearing this, Ryan was surprised, his eyes wide, mouth open. Ryan thought, ‘So that’s how it is. It makes sense, everything makes sense.’

  He spoke,

  “Indeed, no wonder he could move the heart of the foolish demons. It all makes sense now. After all, he is their king.”

  Reed was taken aback. He began sweating crazily. He found something that was forbidden to know. He had even tried to kill the prince. He thought, ‘Now more than ever Leo should die.’

  Reed spoke with a fake smile,

  “It makes sense indeed, or else how can a teenage boy save a whole kingdom.”

  Gale just responded with a smile.

  ***

  **In Leo’s Mind**

  It was infinitely extending darkness. Leo found himself in its middle. He could see himself clearly. He walked forward—nothing was seen, no direction, no light, and no life.

  After a long walk, Leo was tired mentally, but his body showed no signs of fatigue. Then he sat down to rest for a while, to think something.

  Then slowly but steadily, a fog covered the darkness. In a moment, Leo was fully immersed in the fog.

  Leo stood up immediately. Then a voice was heard—a gentle male voice of an adult. Leo felt a sense of warmth and familiarity.

  In the fog he could see an image of a middle-aged demon. He was big. He carried an air of dignity around him with a crown on his head, a beard decorating his face. It was a familiar face. Leo had seen it for years in the central palace—a huge painting in the hallway. Just a small difference: the fierce gaze was replaced with a warm look.

  It was the old Demon King Leonardo.

  In his hands, a child about three years old. He spoke,

  “Forgive me, child. You are blessed by the heaven, a child of mana, but unfortunately you are born in my bloodline, as my heir. Someday you will know the truth. When the shackles are finally broken, you will be the light that liberates the demons of this realm.”

  Leo leapt forward, but the form of the old king was in fog. He couldn’t interact with him. Leo understood this was his memories. He decided to observe them.

  A voice was heard from behind,

  “My king, it’s time. Bring the prince.”

  It was familiar. Leo turned. He saw Gale. He looked younger. Near him, a small girl stood—it was Melody as a child.

  The king nodded his head. He moved and placed Leo on a premade magic circle.

  The king rose up, took a step back, his hands still held by the young Leo’s tender hands.

  The king stroked the young Leo’s head. He bent and whispered in his ears,

  “It will be alright, son. Trust your father. I will end it all tonight.”

  Leo, seeing this, his eyes moistened, his hands trembling. He went ahead, his hands moving to embrace his old man, but he pulled back, came to his senses, continued to watch.

  The king came back. Gale stepped forward. Mana shook. Runes lit up around the circle. The young Leo played around with the mana runes. Gale spoke,

  “Playing with fate runes… my king, your son is a monster indeed.”

  He raised his wand. The runes flew into Leo’s body, forming a chain around his heart, restricting his mana and memories.

  As the ritual was going on, the visions stopped.

  Then the fog shifted, turned dark. It showed thundering skies, the same palace where the ritual was taking place. He could only see glimpses. The king was on his knees, his body battered, his armor soaked in blood.

  A figure, a shadow, stood in front of him. It spoke,

  “Fool. You should have stayed silent on the throne. How dare you go against me? My word is the heaven’s decree. Regret in the afterlife.”

  The figure took his sword. He went to stab it into the king’s heart. The sword struck down, pulled to the ground, moving to the chest of the old king. Suddenly another sword flew against it. In a distance, a blurry figure threw the sword. It deflected the killer’s sword. After that, the sword flew back to the blur’s hands. As his hands grasped the hilt, thunder struck the sword from the heavens. A bright crimson glow was born. The mana in the air gathered around the blur’s body. A blood-red crimson armor formed around the body of the demon. He rushed forward.

  The king stood up, his wounds bleeding, his breath unsteady, his vision blurred. He stood against the shadow.

  He spoke,

  “This is my fight. Stay back, boy.”

  The crimson-armored knight stood in his track. He wanted nothing more than to rush to the king’s side, but he respected the king’s words. He decided to stop.

  The king spoke,

  “Protect the prince. He is inside with the worn-out demon star.”

  The shadow spoke,

  “You speak too much for a dead man.”

  Then swung his sword, severing the king’s right arm. The king didn’t scream. He lunged forward with his other arm, held the sword.

  The crimson knight headed inside the palace to protect the prince.

  The king smiled,

  “Let’s go to hell.”

  And hugged the shadow. His eyes shined red. The mana in the air violently moved, crazy. There appeared cracks in the king’s body. He detonated his own life energy, burned it to self-destruct. The shadow struggled to break free, but it all meant no use. The wounded king’s grasp was so strong that even the mighty shadow couldn’t move.

  Then Bhaammm! A great light and sound was born. The king’s body exploded. He went out with a smile.

  The area surrounding the king—100 meters—was decimated, turned to ashes. The crimson knight barely escaped by reaching the castle.

  The smoke filled the air. After a while, the smoke settled.

  A figure walked out of the smoke.

  “Fool… dirties my dress,” the shadow spoke, apparently unharmed.

  He walked towards the palace.

  “Now it’s the child’s turn. Here I come, unlucky child.”

  He raised his sword. The dark clouds gathered. Thunder formed. The thunder gathered the whole area. All the mana in the air screamed.

  The shadow spoke,

  “Goodbye, fated one.”

  The lightning raged towards the castle.

  The scene shifted. In the castle, the crimson knight found the child. The knight sensed the change of mana in the air. He raised his sword.

  All Leo could see was a broad back of the knight, shielding him against the heaven’s fury.

  Then the scene ended there. The shadow, away from the castle, saw this. The thunders decimated the castle. The crimson knight’s charged armor was visible under the rubble. Seeing this, the shadow spoke,

  “I am true ruler now.”

  He laughed fanatically and then left the scene, thinking Leo was dead.

  Unknowing, the light to end his dark had survived under the mana shield of the crimson knight, along with the old demon star and his daughter.

  The fog cleared away.

  Leo, seeing all this, remembered his past.

  Now a huge ball of light was in front of him, shackled down by mana shackles, glowing with runes.

  Leo stepped forward, moved towards the ball of light. He came close and touched it.

  The shackles started to remove. Then suddenly Leo was lifted in air and carried far away from the light ball. He was pushed away.

  There he found a dark space where a mirror lay in the middle of the room.

  Leo, still contemplating what he saw yet, moved towards the mirror with resolve to leave this place.

  He stood in front of the mirror. His reflection was seen in it. His hand moved towards the mirror to touch it.

  As he placed his finger on the mirror, the room turned white. The mirror turned black. His reflected hand came out of the mirror and pulled him inside. He was trapped inside the mirror.

  What will happen next? Will he ever get out?

  What will happen to the trio? Will they survive? Stay tuned to find out.

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