CHAPTER 60: CHAPTER 60: TRIAL OF THE BONDS

Recap of Chapter 59: Shackled Hearts, Fractured Trust

The Mistress tightened her grip. The golden curse flared visibly on Jemil’s skin, burning like brands beneath his flesh, pulsing whenever he wavered in focus. Each mark carried temptation, forcing his wives to see him not just as their leader, but as something fragile, bound, and dangerous.

Kaelina’s blade faltered when Jemil’s chains erupted mid-battle, wrapping briefly around her wrist before shattering. Lyra’s flames grew wild as if her own passion fed the curse, while Nyssa’s illusions trembled under the Mistress’s mocking laughter. The chamber became a mirror of fears, desires, and half-formed truths—an endless game where victory seemed to slip further away the harder they fought.

And then the Mistress spoke: "If you cannot trust what you see, how can you trust the bonds that hold you together?"

Her voice lingered like poison. The harem, already strained, stepped into the next trial with their hearts more vulnerable than their bodies.

Main story

The floor beneath them shifted with a grinding moan. Stone turned fluid, rippling outward like water disturbed by a single drop. In an instant, the chamber stretched into a long corridor lined with mirrors.

But these were no ordinary reflections.

Jemil’s burning marks flared, searing his nerves, and each mirror came alive. Not with his face, but with a dozen possible selves—some triumphant, some broken, some kneeling in golden chains.

"Stay close," Jemil ordered, though his voice carried the strain of pain. He felt his heartbeat against the curse, each throb branding another line of fire across his arms and chest.

Lyra moved to his side, her flames crackling nervously. "These walls... they’re watching us."

Kaelina’s grip tightened around her sword. "No. Worse—they’re judging us."

Nyssa tilted her head, her eyes glowing faintly. "Illusions this dense shouldn’t hold weight. But they do. They want us to believe."

And then, the corridor shifted again.

From one mirror stepped a shadow—Lyra, but not the Lyra they knew. Her hair burned with uncontrolled fire, her eyes consumed by hatred. She sneered at Jemil.

"You’ll burn us all. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To see us consumed?"

The real Lyra gasped, her flames flaring hotter. "That’s not me—!"

Another mirror shattered. A twisted Kaelina emerged, draped in broken armor, her blade bloodied. "You can’t save us, Jemil. You’ll only hold us back. Chains or no chains, you’re still weak."

Jemil staggered, his curse flaring as if feeding off their doubt. Golden chains writhed beneath his skin, glowing through his flesh like brands pressed too deep.

"Fight them!" Jemil roared, swinging his staff, breaking a mirror before it could spill another phantom into the hall. Shards scattered, glowing with faint whispers. But breaking one only made the others more vivid.

Illusions became flesh. Shadows became steel. And suddenly, the harem was surrounded—not by strangers, but by themselves.

The Fractured Battle

Lyra clashed with her phantom double, flame against flame. The chamber lit up with firestorms, the heat suffocating. Her double’s voice pierced through every strike: "Your fire is a curse, not a gift. He only keeps you because you’re useful!"

Kaelina’s mirror-self moved with brutal precision, each strike aimed at Jemil rather than her. Kaelina blocked, snarling, their blades sparking as if one soul fought to erase the other.

"You’ll kill him yourself," the phantom hissed. "Your blade is too sharp for his fragile chains."

Nyssa’s double whispered with a smile, multiplying into dozens of selves that slithered around her. "You’ll never know if he truly sees you, Nyssa. To him, you’re just another illusion."

The Mistress’s laughter echoed from everywhere and nowhere. "How long before they start to wonder if the illusions speak truths they dare not admit?"

Jemil felt it—the burning curse beneath his skin responding to every word. His wives’ doubts fed it, his own fear amplified it. The golden chains pulsed across his arms, his chest, his neck, searing into view like molten veins.

And with every flare, the phantom enemies grew stronger.

Temptation in the Chains

Jemil dropped to one knee, clutching his chest as the curse writhed. It wasn’t just pain. It was seduction.

In his mind’s eye, he saw another Mistress—not the one taunting them, but one leaning close, whispering: "Let them fight themselves. Let me bear their doubt for you. Bind them, Jemil. Bind them, and you’ll never fear betrayal again."

A chain coiled from his palm, unbidden. For a heartbeat, Kaelina’s eyes flicked to it—fear flashing before she struck down her phantom double. Lyra nearly faltered when she saw it too, her flames sputtering with hesitation.

"Jemil!" Nyssa’s voice cut sharp, dragging him back. "Don’t let her make you her weapon!"

He clenched his fist, shattering the chain into sparks. His voice came rough, torn between fury and despair. "I am not your pawn!"

But the burning marks didn’t fade. They spread, curling across his collarbone, glowing brighter with each denial.

Shattering the Trial

The battle reached a fever pitch. Lyra’s flames roared until they turned white, Kaelina’s blade carved through shadow after shadow, and Nyssa’s illusions collapsed her doubles into nothingness. But for every phantom slain, Jemil felt his chains tighten.

"End it!" Kaelina shouted, her voice straining.

Jemil closed his eyes. The Mistress wanted him broken, doubting, consumed. But he realized—this wasn’t about destroying illusions. It was about defying the lies they carried.

He slammed his staff into the ground. The chamber rippled, mirrors cracking. His burning marks blazed gold, searing through his shirt.

"My bonds are not shackles. They’re choice. They’re trust!"

The phantoms screamed as the mirrors splintered, each reflection fracturing until only shards remained. The illusions melted away, leaving silence in their wake.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Only the sound of Jemil’s ragged breathing filled the hall.

Then Lyra reached for his hand, her fingers brushing the seared chains beneath his skin. "They’re still there."

Jemil met her eyes, his voice low. "I know."

The Mistress’s voice returned, soft, venomous. "And every trial will make them burn brighter. How long before they stop seeing you as savior—and start seeing you as the curse?"

The corridor dissolved, leaving only a single staircase ahead. Each step shimmered gold, waiting.

Next Chapter Preview – Chapter 61: The Mistress’s Gambit

The harem survived the mirrors, but their unity is shaken. The burning curse is no longer hidden—every wife has seen the golden marks crawling across Jemil’s body, alive, hungry, impossible to ignore.

The Mistress knows this, and she uses it to her advantage. The next trial is not a battlefield, but a feast hall—lavish, intoxicating, where illusions blur into desire and temptation sharpens into betrayal.

Jemil will be forced to face not phantoms of lies, but truths his wives have buried deep. Their doubts, their jealousies, their fears. And for the Mistress, this is no longer about victory—it’s about seduction.

How long can Jemil resist the pull of the curse, when surrender begins to look like the only way to keep them together?

CTA

🔥 The Tower has revealed its cruelest trick yet—not monsters, not armies, but their own hearts turned against them. Jemil’s curse burns brighter, and the Mistress sharpens her game, weaving trust and temptation into the deadliest chains of all.

💔 Will Jemil and his wives hold fast to their bonds, or will the Mistress’s whispers finally unravel their fragile unity?

✨ Keep reading to witness the Trial of the Bonds continue—where love, desire, and betrayal collide in ways no sword or flame can defend against.