CHAPTER 1553: STORY 1553: FRACTURED CHOIR

The fire entered them like knives.

Each survivor staggered, clutching at their skin as the boy’s light threaded through their flesh, stitching them into a living lattice. The battlefield rang with cries—some of agony, some of awe—as the chains found anchor in their marrow.

Kael dropped to one knee, his blade fused to his hand now glowing brighter, pulsing in rhythm with the boy’s heartbeat. Elara clutched her chest, gasping as the glow flared beneath her ribs. Even the scarred woman hissed, her charred veins searing with new fire.

For a breath, they were one—dozens of hearts beating as a single drum, dozens of minds bound to the same thread of light.

Then the voices came.

Not only the Unborn’s whisper, but each other.

Kael felt the raw grief of the farmer who had lost three sons. The gnawing hunger of the widow who hadn’t eaten in days. The jagged edges of the scarred woman’s rage, her pain like broken glass inside his skull. The flood nearly drowned him.

Some cried out, clawing at their skin as though they could rip the chains out. A young soldier fell to his knees, screaming, “Get out of me! Get out!” His terror echoed across all their minds, magnified, spreading like plague.

Elara grit her teeth, pressing her forehead to the boy’s. Her voice rang inside the chorus of thoughts, sharp and steady. “Listen. Do you hear it? Not just pain. Strength. Each of you—your fire, your fear, your will—it weaves the chains stronger. If you let go, the Gate breaks. If you hold, we endure.”

The scarred woman spat blood into the dirt, her voice trembling between fury and despair. “You call this endurance? This is slavery! Bound to strangers, chained to their misery. I will not carry their weakness.”

Her thought slammed into them like a hammer blow, the link shuddering. The lattice above flickered, one strand of light dimming. From the carcass of the colossus, the smoke hissed eagerly, gnawing at the faltering chain.

Kael forced himself upright, his mind raw from the flood. He fixed his gaze on her, voice iron though his body shook. “You think strength is yours alone? You’ve bled, you’ve fought, but none of us can stand alone anymore. Not you, not me. If you cut yourself loose, you cut us all loose.”

Her charred eyes met his, blazing with defiance—yet behind it, fear.

The boy’s glow surged weakly, weaving their thoughts tighter. His faint voice rang across all of them, a child’s whisper echoing like thunder: “Not chains... choir.”

The survivors froze. The flood of voices softened, no longer screams but a chorus, ragged and imperfect, yet united. Grief dulled into resolve, rage tempered into defiance, despair warmed by stubborn sparks of hope.

The lattice above flared brighter, the black smoke recoiling as the Gate shuddered, pressed backward once more.

Kael exhaled, sweat steaming from his burned skin. For the first time, he understood the boy’s meaning. They were not prisoners. They were a choir—and their song was defiance.

But as the last echoes faded, another voice slithered through the binding, colder than death:

“A choir? Then let me teach you my hymn.”

The Unborn was listening. And now, it would sing back.