CHAPTER 48: THE BIND

My breathing turned shallow.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

Each one faster than the last until it didn’t feel like breathing anymore — just choking on air.

The weight on my chest swelled until it felt like the whole world had decided to sit there, pressing down, daring me to move.

My nails dug into my palms so hard I could feel skin tear, but it wasn’t enough to anchor me.

Something inside me snapped.

The thoughts started spilling out — too fast to catch.

’You’re not ready. You’re not strong enough. You’re just pretending. She’s still watching you. She’ll take it all away. You’ll fail. You’ll break. You’ll—’

"Shut up," I hissed, gripping my head.

But the voices didn’t stop. They multiplied. Twisting my own tone into something crueler.

They rang louder. More certain.

’You can’t run from me. I wrote you this way.’

I stumbled backward, knocking into the chair. My vision blurred, the edges burning like someone had poured liquid light into my skull.

"Shut. Up."

My voice rose until it wasn’t a voice anymore. It was a roar.

And just something happened. My grimoire answered.

It didn’t open. It didn’t flip pages. It flared like I had never seen before.

A golden light ripped through the room like a blade tearing the air apart. My weapon grimoire hovered in front of me, its cover glowing so bright it hurt to look at.

Chains poured out of it.

Not in neat, obedient lines. They exploded, spiraling through the air, rattling and ringing like war drums. They were molten gold, burning with symbols I couldn’t read, each link searing itself into my vision.

One chain broke from the storm and lunged for me.

I didn’t move. I simply couldn’t.

It struck my forehead, then wrapped around my skull in a blinding loop.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

I gasped for air — my head snapping back as if something had just slammed into the base of my neck.

My thoughts went silent. My panic vanished. The world itself seemed to stop for a while.

The chain pulsed once, twice... and tightened.

I could feel it. Not just pressing against my skin but inside my mind.

A band of molten gold locking my thoughts in place. Containing something. Protecting something. Or maybe... imprisoning it.

For a heartbeat, the air around me shimmered. I saw my reflection in the mirror, and it wasn’t me.

It was something older. Wilder. Eyes blazing with the kind of fire you only see in the stories of gods and monsters.

A grin stretched across my face, too wide.

The chain gave one last pulse... then vanished.

The light dimmed. The grimoire shut with a soft, almost innocent click and fell back to the floor.

I stood there, chest heaving, the silence ringing louder than any scream.

Whatever had just happened...I wasn’t sure if it had saved me or put something far worse in my head.

I stayed on my knees for a long moment. Not moving. Not breathing too fast. Just... listening to the quiet.

The chain was gone. The light was gone. The grimoire lay on the floor like nothing had happened, almost like I’d imagined it all.

My heartbeat slowed. The air no longer felt heavy. And the shaking in my hands? Gone.

I flexed my fingers once. Twice. Then curled them into fists.

’Alright. Enough of that.’

I thought as I pushed myself up, slow but steady, until I was standing again.

My back straightened, my chin lifted. I rolled my shoulders, feeling the tension melt away. Not because it was gone, but because I buried it somewhere deep. Somewhere safe.

The fear stayed, of course. It always stayed. But I knew where to hide it.

My breathing evened out. My face shifted into something practiced. Smooth. Relaxed. A faint curl tugged at the corner of my mouth.

The kind of smile that could be mistaken for confidence. Or arrogance. Or both.

The mask was back.

I turned to the mirror. The same boy looked back, but now his eyes didn’t give anything away.

No cracks. No weight. Just calm, collected focus. Like the last ten minutes had never happened.

"Better," I muttered.

I bent down, picked up the grimoire, and ran my thumb over the gold on the cover. It was warm. Warmer than it should have been.

I smirked."You’re full of surprises."

I set it on the desk, then walked to the chair where my boots waited. I pulled them on, tightened the laces, and stood.

Every movement was deliberate now. Smooth. Controlled.

It wasn’t for me, it was for anyone watching. Even if no one was.

From the hallway, Nyx’s voice cut in."Are you dead yet, or just making me wait on purpose?"

I let the smirk grow wider.

"I’m always worth waiting for, Nyx," I called back.

"Pfft. You wish."

I picked up the grimoire again, tucking it under my arm, and walked to the door. My steps were light, measured, almost lazy. The way you walk when you want people to think you own the ground under your feet.

The breakdown was over.

The mask was on.

And the North Star was ready to play his part.

***

The door shut behind Loki with a soft click, and the room turned silent.

But then, in the corner, the mirror’s surface shivered.

It was quick, like a drop of water hitting still glass, but it didn’t stop.

Ripples spread across the reflection, warping the empty room inside it.

The shape in the glass began to shift.

For a second, it wasn’t the room at all. It was a figure standing where Loki had been — same posture, same smirk... but its eyes glowed shiny grey.

The youth looked young. Too young. The kind of face you’d trust if you didn’t notice the sharpness in the smile or the weight in the stare.

His gaze followed the door Loki had left through, as if he could see past walls.

Then his grin stretched wider —too wide— and a laugh spilled out. Not a laugh of joy, but the jagged, rising sound of something unhinged.

"Heh... hah... hahaha—HAAHAHAHAHA!"

It echoed inside the glass, warping like metal under heat.

"Let’s see how long you survive, Loki..." he whispered, almost fondly.

Slowly, he lifted a hand and pressed it to the inside of the glass.

The ripples froze.

The smile stayed.

Then the reflection snapped back to normal.

The mirror stood quiet again, as if nothing had happened.