Chapter 16: The Prophet of Chains
Peace, once earned through fire and sacrifice, becomes fragile in the hands of the unscarred.
Liam had rewritten the Source. The voices of the gods silenced, the ancient contracts buried under his blood and will. For the first time in weeks, he slept without dreams.
But peace is never universal.
Beyond the veil of harmony, in the lands untouched by war's flames, a new doctrine had risen.
And its herald was watching.
---
Whispers in the Dust
The city of Velharr, once a minor outpost of the Divinity Church, had survived the collapse without bloodshed. Isolated in the red mountains, its people worshipped not gods of flame or night, but the silence left behind.
Now, their silence had a voice.
They called him The Prophet of Chains.
He claimed visions.
He wore no armor, only white robes inked with words he never explained.
And he spoke of Liam.
"The man who defied divinity," he preached before crowds, "has become a cage. He does not silence the gods—he imprisons them within himself. And when he breaks, the gods will burn the world for revenge."
The people listened.
Some doubted.
Most believed.
---
The Council's Warning
Liam stood before the high table of the Unified Council, the very same chamber once stained by betrayal and fear. Now, it thrummed with wary energy.
"Velharr has declared independence," said Arin, one of the halfblood delegates. "They've reestablished the Sanctum of Chains and are amassing relics. Forbidden relics."
"Under whose authority?" Ella demanded.
"His." Arin flicked a rune and a grainy image projected—a man, hooded, smiling faintly. "They call him the Prophet. We believe he's human, but... enhanced."
"Enhanced how?" Liam asked.
"They're calling it divine echo resonance. He claims to feel the gods you silenced. To hear them still."
Liam frowned. "He shouldn't. I ended the voices."
"Or so you thought," Arin said. "But perhaps not for him."
---
The Gifted Child
A knock came at midnight.
Liam answered it himself.
Outside stood a girl—no older than ten—with ink covering her hands and a branded sigil on her wrist: the spiral from Liam's visions.
She collapsed into his arms.
Ella appeared a second later, senses flaring. "Who sent her?"
"She ran," the girl whispered as she woke. "I stole the chain."
They looked at each other.
"What chain?"
She unwrapped a cloth from her satchel.
Inside was a sliver of black metal that pulsed with unnatural heat.
Liam recoiled instantly.
"That's not a relic," he murmured. "That's a link. A chain link. From the gods' original bindings."
The girl nodded. "He's building the chain again. To summon what you sealed."
---
The Mission to Velharr
They could not wait.
Liam, Ella, the Archivist, and a small elite team of mages and nightborn warriors departed under concealment spells. Their goal: infiltrate Velharr, find the Prophet, and destroy the Chain Relic before it reached critical resonance.
The journey was brutal.
Velharr had changed.
The mountains were laced with sigils of suppression—runic veins that weakened magic and senses alike. Ella could not shift. Liam could not ignite his bloodlight. They moved like mortals, step by treacherous step.
And in the city?
Chants echoed.
Chains hung from every building, symbolic and real. Citizens wore them proudly. Some had replaced their own bones with woven links.
"Voluntary divine containment," the Archivist whispered. "They're not worshipping gods. They're becoming their prisons."
---
The Prophet Appears
They were discovered by acolytes near the Sanctum.
No blood was shed.
Instead, they were brought before the Prophet—escorted, not as prisoners, but as guests.
The Sanctum of Chains was a cathedral of rust and bone. And at its center, seated on a throne of melted relics, the Prophet waited.
He rose as they entered.
"Liam Solas," he said, bowing slightly. "The Binder. The Last Vessel. I dreamed of your blood before I was born."
Liam didn't flinch. "You're not a prophet. You're a zealot playing with broken gods."
The Prophet smiled. "And yet your flame trembles in my presence. Curious."
Ella stepped forward. "End this madness. You're spreading dangerous doctrine."
"It's not doctrine," he said. "It's correction. Your husband severed the chain. But what he doesn't realize is—some chains were meant to hold."
He raised his hand.
The link the girl had stolen hovered in the air.
It split.
And from its heart poured a scream.
Not a voice.
Not a word.
Just... rage.
Liam fell to his knees.
---
Chain Resonance
The Prophet activated the sanctum.
Chains across the city lit up, singing in low, metallic hums.
The sound resonated in Liam's bones.
He saw not the Prophet—but the chain he had broken.
And its memory.
Before the gods. Before flame. Before night.
There had been a being—something ancient and unfathomable—that wrote the gods into existence as thoughts bound by law.
And that being?
It was waking.
Because the chain had been its leash.
And Liam had broken it.
---
The Escape
Ella shattered the sanctum floor with bloodforce enhanced by sheer rage.
The ceiling cracked.
Liam grabbed the Prophet's robe, but the man vanished in a shimmer of anti-magic.
They fled through the tunnels beneath the city as the Chain Choir began their chant, calling to the being beyond the Source Contract.
Behind them, the Prophet's final words echoed:
"You didn't free the gods, Liam. You freed their jailer."
---
Aftermath
Back at the capital, Liam stood in silence before the flaming mirror, staring at his reflection.
"I made a mistake," he whispered.
Ella stood behind him. "We'll fix it."
"No," he said, voice hollow. "This isn't a god. This is what gods feared. What they were made to hold back. And now it's aware."
She took his hand.
"We face it together."
He nodded.
But in the mirror, his reflection smiled when he did not.
And the eyes?
Were not his own.
---
End of Chapter 16