The first thing she felt was cold.
Not the sharp kind that burned the skin—but a suffocating chill that seeped slowly into her bones, settling there as if it had always belonged. The stone beneath her palms was damp and ancient, carrying the stench of forgotten blood and prayers long abandoned.
She tried to move.
Pain answered.
A thin gasp tore from her lips as she pulled her hand back. The iron shackle around her wrist rattled softly, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the vast darkness surrounding her.
Chains.
Her breath hitched.
Her ankles were bound as well, heavy links biting into her skin whenever she shifted. Panic crept up her spine, slow and poisonous.
She wasn't alone.
The realization came not from sound—but from pressure.
The air felt heavier. Thicker. As though something unseen had entered the space and claimed it.
"Hello?" Her voice came out hoarse, fragile. Barely louder than a whisper.
Silence.
Then—
Metal moved.
Not her chains.
Others.
From beyond the dim circle of light, a figure emerged from the shadows.
Tall.
Unnaturally so.
He moved without urgency, each step deliberate, controlled. As if this place answered to him. As if he had nowhere else to be.
Her instincts screamed.
Her back pressed against the stone wall as far as the chains allowed, heart slamming painfully against her ribs.
The first thing she noticed was his eyes.
One was dark—bottomless, swallowing light as though it had never existed. The other glimmered faintly, pale and unnatural, like something ancient restrained behind fragile flesh.
He stopped just beyond the circle of runes etched into the floor.
For a long moment, he only looked at her.
Not with hunger.
Not with cruelty.
With assessment.
Like she was something broken he needed to decide how to use.
"You're awake," he said.
His voice was low, calm—yet it carried effortlessly through the chamber, sinking into her chest with unsettling weight.
She nodded before she realized she was responding.
"Good," he continued. "That will make this easier."
Her fingers curled into the stone. "Easier… for who?"
A pause.
Something flickered in his expression—not guilt. Not mercy.
Recognition.
"For me," he answered.
He stepped closer.
The sigils beneath his boots reacted instantly, their faded glow sharpening into thin, burning lines. The air grew heavier, pressing against her lungs until each breath felt stolen.
"What… what is this place?" she whispered.
He glanced around slowly, as though indulging her.
"A remnant," he said. "Of a world that tried to bind what should never have been judged."
Her gaze dropped—to the chains wrapped around his arms.
They were not ordinary iron.
They were alive.
She watched in frozen horror as one of them shifted beneath his sleeve, tightening, loosening—breathing.
Her stomach twisted.
"You're cursed," she breathed.
His gaze snapped back to hers.
"Yes," he said. "And now—so are you."
Before she could react, the chain around her wrist ignited.
White-hot pain tore through her arm, ripping a scream from deep within her chest. It wasn't just her flesh that burned—something deeper was being pulled, dragged, claimed.
The world tilted.
Her vision blurred.
And then—
She felt him.
Not his touch.
Not his body.
His presence.
It flooded her mind—rage restrained to the edge of fracture, exhaustion that spanned lifetimes, and beneath it all, a fear so profound it hollowed her chest.
She sobbed, breath shattering.
"What did you do to me?" she cried.
The pain vanished as suddenly as it came.
She collapsed forward, trembling, tears soaking into the cold stone.
When she looked up, he was kneeling before her.
Too close.
Fine fractures glimmered faintly along his skin—thin, glowing lines like cracks in glass, restrained by force rather than healed.
"The chain has chosen," he said quietly. "That's all."
"Chosen for what?" Her voice broke.
His gaze lingered on her face for a moment longer than necessary.
"To keep me alive."
Her heart skipped violently.
Slowly, deliberately, he lifted her chin with two fingers. His touch was cold—but not empty.
"You are my anchor now," he said. "Whether you wish to be or not."
Horror bloomed in her chest.
"And if I refuse?" she whispered.
For the first time, restraint tightened his expression.
"You won't," he replied.
Not as a threat.
As a fact.
He stood, chains shifting softly as they wrapped around him, and turned away.
"Rest," he added. "You'll need your strength."
As he disappeared into the shadows, the sigils dimmed, the chamber sinking back into silence.
She stared down at her wrist.
A thin, glowing mark pulsed where the chain had burned her skin—beating in time with her heart.
Her breath caught.
Whatever he was…
Whatever she had been bound to…
Her life no longer belonged to her.
And somewhere in the darkness—
So did his.