Chapter 1504: Story 1504: Chains of the Cursed

The chains were invisible, yet Elara felt every link dig into her flesh. Her heartbeat faltered, caught in a rhythm not her own. She clutched her chest, gasping, while her vision blurred with crimson haze. Around her, the forest bent unnaturally, trees stretching higher, their branches twisting into clawed hands.

Kael stumbled to her side, his arm blistered from the master’s touch. He gritted his teeth, forcing his body to stand between Elara and the looming figure. “Stay with me,” he urged, shaking her shoulder. But her eyes were distant, pupils drowning in shadow.

The master’s coal-lit gaze fixed upon her, a thin smile forming on its ever-shifting face. “Blood remembers,” it whispered. “The girl carries the line. The chain binds not by curse, but by birth.”

Elara’s breath caught. Memories she had never lived poured through her veins—visions of ancient battlefields drenched in fire, of warriors bowing to a crowned corpse that sat upon a throne of bones. A woman’s voice, faint and mournful, whispered in her ears: You are the key, child… the lock and the key.

She screamed, dropping to her knees, her hands clawing at the soil as though to rip herself free.

Kael lifted his sword again, though his body shook. “Let her go!”

The master raised one withered hand, and the horde surged forward once more. Dozens of corpses lunged at Kael, their jaws snapping, their nails tearing. He swung his blade desperately, the rhythm of steel against rotting flesh echoing like a drumbeat of defiance. Still, they closed in, teeth grazing his arm, claws raking his cloak.

“Elara!” he shouted, desperation cracking his voice. “Fight it! You’re stronger than its chains!”

Her mind thrashed against the tide of visions. She saw a sigil burning across her skin, carved in lines of fire, the same sigil Kael had struck into the earth moments ago. But here, within her chest, it pulsed alive. She realized then—the master was not only bound to the land. It was bound to her bloodline.

With trembling hands, Elara pressed her palm against the ground. She whispered words she didn’t know she knew, the language spilling from her lips like forgotten prayer: Ash to ash, root to root, sever what is mine.

The earth trembled. The chains around her heart cracked, glowing white-hot before splintering into shards of light. A shockwave blasted outward, hurling the nearest zombies into the trees. The air itself screamed, tearing through the fog with a ripping sound like cloth being shredded.

The master staggered. For the first time, its form faltered, its shadowed body flickering as though struggling to hold shape. Its eyes flared brighter, burning with both rage and fear. “You dare wield what was never yours!” it thundered.

Elara rose slowly, her hood falling back, her eyes alight with the same white fire that shattered her bonds. “Then take it back,” she said, her voice shaking but resolute.

Kael, bloodied and breathless, took his place beside her. His blade lifted once more. “Together,” he said.

The master’s laughter returned, deeper now, shaking the bones of the earth. “Then together… you will fall.”

And the forest erupted as the dead swarmed once more, hungrier than ever.