CHAPTER 42: CHAPTER 42 – “WINGS AGAINST CHAINS”

The shard-world had stopped feeling like ground at all. Every fragment trembled, tilting and grinding against one another like tectonic plates about to collapse. Ren and the girl stood back to back, vow-thread blazing, their breath ragged but in rhythm.

The knight was the first to change. Its faceless helm split down the middle with a shriek of tearing steel. From within, not a face, but a nest of chains spilled out like veins, wrapping around its arms, binding the blade tighter. Its eyes—two hollow lights—ignited crimson.

The serpent followed. Its body cracked open like pottery, revealing a writhing core of luminous chains instead of flesh. Each coil now dripped fragments like molten shards, burning the air with every lash.

The winged beast screamed last, its wings tearing themselves apart—only to reform as feathered chains, each plume a sharpened link that clattered as it spread them wide.

Three avatars. No longer mere reflections—they were becoming something closer to truths pulled out of Ren’s chest.

The girl’s shard-wings flickered in shock. "...They’re not fighting us anymore. They’re fighting for you."

Ren clenched his jaw, fire crackling around his blade. "No—they’re fighting to replace me."

And that was when the phantom child stepped forward. For the first time, its feet touched the shards, rippling them like water. Its hollow eyes fixed on Ren, its pale lips curling into something that resembled amusement.

"You finally see it," the phantom whispered. "These aren’t enemies. They’re fragments of your soul. They will bind you—not because they hate you, but because you are weak enough to need them."

Chains burst from the shards beneath Ren, wrapping around his ankles before he could react. His flame blade flared, slicing them apart, but more rose in their place, snapping and coiling like serpents.

The girl’s wings slashed through another wave, shattering them into splinters of light. But each chain she broke only reformed, slithering closer, hungrier.

"Ren—!"

He staggered, dropping to one knee as chains coiled around his arms and chest. His flame guttered, dimming against the tightening grip. The phantom’s voice sank lower, resonating not in his ears but in his heartbeat.

"...You’ve always wanted strength, haven’t you? Enough to protect, enough to hold on. But strength doesn’t come from vows. It comes from chains. From binding what you cannot control inside yourself."

The knight stepped forward, its massive blade dragging sparks against the shards. The serpent circled behind, rattling its chain-body with anticipation. The winged beast hovered overhead, wings stretched wide enough to blot out the fractured sky.

Ren’s breath came ragged, his body sinking under the weight of the chains. The vow-thread trembled like it was being pulled from both ends.

The girl grabbed his hand, her own wings flaring bright enough to cast silver fire across his face. "Ren—look at me! Don’t let it in!"

But his eyes flickered—ember one moment, hollow the next. The phantom’s chains were not just binding his body. They were sinking into his heart.

"...If you break free now," the phantom whispered, leaning close enough its lips brushed the edge of his ear, "...you’ll only break her. And when she’s gone—you’ll finally understand that chains are mercy."

The vow-thread dimmed to a thin strand, threatening to snap.

Ren’s voice rasped, trembling between defiance and collapse. "...No... I won’t... let you—"

But his knees buckled. The ember flames around his blade flickered almost to ash. The three avatars moved in unison, their chains tightening, their hollow eyes locked on him.

And for the first time—Ren felt his own reflection trying to erase him.

The vow-thread quivered, stretched to the breaking point. Then, with a sound like a mirror shattering under water, the world folded.

Ren’s vision split in two. One half still showed the girl, her wings flaring desperately as the knight, serpent, and winged beast closed around her. But the other half—pulled him into darkness, into a place deeper than the shards themselves.

He staggered, and when his feet landed, it wasn’t on glass or stone—it was on black water that rippled without end. No horizon. No sky. Only the faint sound of chains dragging across the surface.

Ren looked down. His reflection stared back up at him—but this one was clearer, sharper than any before. It was him as he was now—sword in hand, fire dimming, breath ragged. Except its eyes were already hollow.

The phantom child stood behind the reflection, its pale hand resting on the mirror’s shoulder. "Welcome home," it whispered.

Ren raised his blade, fire stuttering back to life. "This isn’t home. This is a coffin."

The reflection tilted its head, mirroring the motion, flame flickering in perfect sync. But its voice was wrong—low, empty, threaded with chains. "No. This is where you’ve always belonged. Every promise you’ve made, every vow you’ve spoken, every time you’ve reached out—you’ve always broken. You don’t need vows anymore. You need bindings."

Chains burst from the black water, slapping around Ren’s wrists and dragging him down. He slashed through one, two, three, but each time he severed them, they reformed as glowing scars across his arms, burning like brands.

The phantom child’s whisper crawled through his chest. "Feel that? The chains you destroy only carve deeper into you. There’s no breaking free, only breaking yourself."

Ren gritted his teeth, pushing back against the pull. "Even if I break—better me than her."

The reflection smiled then. Not mockery. Not emptiness. But something chillingly genuine. "But she’ll break anyway. Outside, your knight bleeds her wings for you. Your serpent coils around her throat. Your beast scatters her heart. While you drown here, she is already dying for your weakness."

Ren’s eyes widened. He could still feel her through the vow-thread—her heartbeat, frantic and pained. Her wings clashing against steel and scale. Her voice, faint but burning with determination.

"Ren... hold on... don’t let it take you—"

The thread flickered through the blackness like a silver line, trembling between their hearts.

The reflection reached for it. Chains erupted from its hands, twisting toward the thread like hungry snakes. "Give it to me. Give me her vow, and I’ll keep it safe. You’ll never have to fail again."

Ren slashed, fire roaring back along his blade. Sparks scattered across the black water like stars. The reflection’s chains hissed back, but not before grazing the thread, dimming it for a breathless instant.

Ren’s voice ripped through the void, raw and furious. "You’ll never touch her!"

But the reflection only smirked, its hollow eyes glowing with something darker than fire.

"Then break alone."

Chains erupted upward, wrapping around Ren’s chest, neck, even his throat. He choked, fire sputtering in his grip. The black water surged higher, swallowing his legs, waist, shoulders—dragging him deeper into the prison.

Above, the silver vow-thread flickered weaker, trembling like a candle in storm winds.

And on the battlefield beyond, the girl screamed his name as the knight’s chain-blade came down.

The vow-thread quivered like a fraying cord. Ren’s fire dimmed within the black water, his reflection tightening the chains around his throat.

But outside—where glass and blood painted the battlefield—the girl stood alone.

Her wings of shards bled with every beat, fracturing into jagged fragments before reassembling in raw bursts of light. She pressed them wide, forming a barrier between herself and the three advancing figures.

The knight’s chain-blade scraped sparks across her defense. The serpent coiled low, hissing venom into the cracks beneath her feet. The beast circled, wings stretching wider than hers, blotting out what little light remained.

Her chest heaved. She could feel Ren’s fading heartbeat through the vow-thread—thin, fragile, like someone trying to scream underwater.

"Ren..." she whispered, her voice shaking. "If you fall—I won’t forgive you."

The knight lunged first. Its blade struck with impossible weight, chains rattling like war drums. She crossed her wings in front of her body, the shards shrieking under the pressure. Splinters cut across her arms, but she didn’t let them drop.

The serpent struck next, coiling around her legs, teeth sinking toward her skin. She twisted, stabbing with a broken shard in her hand, slicing scales that hissed and bled black mist.

But the beast came last, leaping high. Its claws crashed down, and for a heartbeat, her wings broke.

Shards scattered across the ground, sharp and useless, leaving her chest exposed.

The knight’s blade reared back. The serpent’s coils tightened. The beast raised its head to strike.

And in that instant, she screamed—not in despair, but in defiance.

Her wings erupted—not as shards, but as raw light. Fractured, unstable, burning her flesh from the inside, but alive. She spread them wide, and the vow-thread pulsed like a living vein.

Chains that had begun to coil around it recoiled in sudden pain, as though scorched by her light.

Inside the prison, Ren’s eyes snapped open. Through the chains strangling him, he felt it—her heartbeat slamming into his own, not begging for him to rise, but demanding.

She was burning herself alive to keep their thread alive.

The reflection tilted its head, expression unreadable. "See? She sacrifices, and you only watch. You’ll let her wings shatter for your sake, and when they’re gone, you’ll drown together."

Ren’s jaw clenched, blood spilling where the chains cut into his throat. The black water surged over his chin, pulling him under.

But then he saw it—her wings blazing against three enemies, her voice clawing its way across the vow-thread.

"Ren—stand with me. Even if it kills us both. I won’t fight without you."

His fire roared back. Not steady. Not whole. But wild, desperate, alive.

The chains searing into his arms glowed red, not from their strength—but from his flames burning back through them.

Ren growled, voice breaking through the water. "If I can’t protect her—then I’ll burn the prison itself."

The reflection smiled thinly, chains writhing like serpents. "Then come. Break yourself."

Ren’s flames surged, devouring the black water around him. The vow-thread blazed between them, no longer dim, but fierce enough to sear both worlds.

And outside—the girl stood with her burning wings, three avatars circling her, as the vow-thread pulsed brighter than ever.