CHAPTER 52: CHAPTER 52: CHAINS BENEATH THE SKIN

Recap of the Previous Chapter

The Mistress of Shackles had fallen, but her defeat was not victory. Though Jemil and his wives shattered her chains in the abyss, she left behind a far more insidious mark—a glowing curse carved into Jemil’s chest, its molten-gold links pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.

The Mistress’s last words had whispered like venom into his soul: "You cannot escape me, Chainbreaker. You will either belong to me... or be undone by me."

Now, as the spiral stairs carried them upward into the unknown, Jemil knew one truth: the Tower’s trial was no longer just outside him. It was inside him.

Main Story

The stairs ended abruptly, depositing the group into a vast, dimly lit hall. The air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of water and stone. Columns of obsidian jutted up from the ground like jagged fangs, their surfaces slick with condensation.

A quiet drip echoed from somewhere in the shadows.

Jemil adjusted his breathing, steadying himself, but every inhale came with a faint burn in his chest. He glanced down at the curse—it lay quiet now, dim and thin, like faint tattoo-lines of gold across his sternum. Only when his heartbeat quickened did the glow sharpen, like embers stirred in ash.

Lyra walked beside him, her fists still faintly smoldering. She glanced at the mark, lips tightening. "That thing... it doesn’t belong on you."

Her voice was fierce, but Jemil caught the tremor underneath. She wasn’t just angry—she was afraid.

"I’ll burn it off if I have to," she added, fire flickering at her knuckles.

"Don’t," Jemil said quickly. He knew her too well. She’d do it without hesitation, even if it burned him along with the curse. "It isn’t just on my skin. It’s in me."

Nyssa leaned lazily against a column, her violet eyes gleaming. "Mmm. Intriguing. Almost like the Mistress left her... signature. Can’t say I blame her. You do have that irresistible ’conquer me or be conquered’ aura."

Kaelina’s blade rasped softly as her hand brushed the hilt. Her golden eyes narrowed, focused on the faintly glowing chains. "This isn’t a signature. It’s a shackle. And shackles are made to bind."

Jemil exhaled. He could feel their tension tightening around him like another set of invisible chains. "Whatever it is, I’ll break it. We’ll break it. Together."

His words steadied them, but as they moved deeper into the hall, the curse pulsed once—just once—and Jemil felt a tug at his chest. Not a pull of pain, but of... desire.

A whisper slid across his mind: "They doubt. They fear. Will you chain yourself to their weakness—or to my strength?"

Jemil’s jaw tightened. He forced the voice out, but the aftertaste lingered.

The hall stretched into a circular arena, water pooled in its center like a black mirror. At its far end stood an archway, carved in shapes that looked disturbingly like entwined chains.

The moment they stepped inside, the water rippled.

From its surface rose a reflection—no, not one, but three. Perfect copies of Lyra, Nyssa, and Kaelina stepped from the pool, their eyes glinting gold.

Each doppelgänger turned not to Jemil, but to their real counterparts.

"Pathetic," sneered the mirror-Lyra, flames licking around her fists. "Always raging, always pretending your fire is strength. When in truth, you’re terrified he’ll leave you. That’s why you cling so desperately."

The real Lyra’s flames surged hotter. "Shut up."

The curse on Jemil’s chest flared faintly, reacting to her anger.

Mirror-Nyssa tilted her head, smirking. "You wear masks and laugh, but deep down, you’re terrified too. Afraid the Chainbreaker will one day see through your illusions—and realize there’s nothing real underneath."

The real Nyssa’s smile froze.

And the mirror-Kaelina stepped forward, sword gleaming. "You swore to protect him, but your blade is never fast enough. You know it. Every time he bleeds, it’s proof of your failure. You’re not his protector. You’re his liability."

Kaelina’s grip on her sword trembled.

The curse throbbed harder now, each word from the illusions feeding into Jemil’s chest. His heart pounded like it wanted to burst free.

The reflections weren’t here to fight. They were here to wound.

"Don’t listen," Jemil said, forcing his voice steady. He took a step forward—but the chain-mark seared suddenly, forcing him to stumble. His breath caught as the Mistress’s voice hissed again:

"Their jealousy... their doubt... it feeds me. Every fracture, every weakness, tightens the chain."

Lyra caught him, flames rising around her protectively. "Jemil—what’s happening?!"

The golden chains burned through his skin like molten fire, glowing visible for them all to see. He gasped, falling to his knees, and the wives froze.

The curse flared brightest when their emotions spiked.

That was the truth.

Lyra’s anger. Nyssa’s fear. Kaelina’s doubt. All of it was fueling the Mistress’s curse inside him.

And the Tower had given it a stage.

The fight began not with steel, but with hearts.

Mirror-Lyra charged her real self, fists blazing. The arena shook as fire clashed against fire, each blow a contest not of strength, but of who burned brighter.

"Admit it!" the reflection roared. "You’re not protecting him—you’re chaining him to your fire because you’re afraid of the dark!"

Lyra’s flame faltered for a heartbeat. Jemil’s chain-mark flared violently in response.

Mirror-Nyssa’s illusions spiraled, wrapping the arena in shifting mirages. She whispered mockingly to her real self, "What are you without your tricks, sister? Naked. Empty. Forgettable. He’ll see you for what you are and discard you."

The real Nyssa’s smirk cracked. For the first time, Jemil saw true fear flicker in her eyes. And again, the curse pulsed.

Kaelina’s duel was silent but savage. Each clash of blade against blade rang like judgment. Her reflection pressed her ruthlessly, her words as sharp as steel. "You swore an oath. But every scar on his body is proof—you’ve failed him already. Failures don’t deserve vows."

Kaelina faltered, her guard slipping. The curse burned hotter still.

Jemil’s body convulsed as the mark spread further across his chest, golden links crawling toward his shoulders.

"No—stop feeding it!" he roared, his voice echoing through the hall. He forced himself upright, staggering between them. His chest glowed like a furnace. "This isn’t you. These are lies!"

But the reflections only laughed.

"Lies? Or truths you’re too afraid to face?"

The chain snapped taut around his heart, and Jemil screamed.

And then—he remembered.

The Mistress wanted him bound by their fears. But their bond wasn’t forged from weakness. It was forged from intimacy.

"Lyra!" he shouted, his voice raw. She glanced at him mid-battle. "Your fire isn’t fear—it’s what kept me alive. Without it, I’d still be in the dark."

The chain flared—then cracked faintly.

"Nyssa! You think you’re just masks? No. Every time you smiled when I was breaking, every time you made me laugh when I wanted to quit—you were more real than anything in this cursed Tower."

Another crack split the chain.

"Kaelina! You swore to protect me—and you have. Every scar I carry, every drop of blood, you were there beside me. That isn’t failure. That’s love."

The chain shattered across his chest with a thunderous crack, golden shards scattering into the air.

The reflections froze. For the first time, they looked... afraid.

The wives rallied, their power surging brighter than ever. Lyra’s flames roared white-hot, consuming her reflection. Nyssa’s illusions twisted, collapsing her double into mist. Kaelina’s blade sang, cutting her shadow in half with a single stroke.

Silence fell.

The curse dimmed back to faint lines, no longer burning, but still there—still waiting.

Jemil stood in the center of the arena, chest heaving. His wives circled him, fire, illusion, and steel at his side.

The archway ahead opened.

But Jemil knew one thing.

The curse wasn’t gone. It was only waiting for the next crack.

Next Chapter Preview – Chapter 53: Chains of Temptation

The reflections are defeated, but the curse lingers. Though Jemil shattered the Mistress’s immediate hold, the mark remains etched on his chest, faint and glowing—reacting not to battle, but to moments of temptation.

Every glance, every brush of a hand, every flare of jealousy makes it spark again, feeding on the intimacy that should be their strength. And worse—the Tower has noticed.

The next floor is not a battlefield of monsters, but a labyrinth of desire itself. Doors open to secret fears and hidden wants, tempting each wife with what they crave most.

Jemil must lead them through—but the curse makes every temptation feel sharper, more dangerous, as if the Mistress herself is watching through his skin.

Can the Chainbreaker resist when the Tower itself becomes a weapon of seduction?

CTA

The Tower isn’t just testing Jemil’s strength—it’s testing his heart, his unity, his very desire. The curse will turn every temptation into a chain, and every bond into a a battlefield.

🔥 Don’t miss Chapter 53: Chains of Temptation—where loyalty and love will be pushed to their breaking point, and the Mistress’s unseen hand pulls tighter than ever before.