Chapter 106: The Thread That Frays
The path to the cliffs was almost too easy.
No beasts lurked behind rocks. No traps were set beneath the earth. No illusions clouded their minds. For two entire days, Elara and Ariella walked under gray skies and steady winds, exchanging glances of growing unease.
"This is... suspicious," Ariella whispered as they reached the base of the marshy cliff, mist curling like fingers at their feet.
"Too quiet," Elara muttered. "The world doesn't go still unless something is watching."
The pendant's resting place was no sanctuary. Fog wove itself in circles around them, never thick enough to blind but heavy enough to whisper. Their names slipped through the air in voices neither could recognize.
"Elara…"
"Ariella…"
But no harm came.
In the heart of the marsh, half-sunken in shallow water, something shimmered faintly beneath a veil of reeds. Elara knelt, her hand brushing the cool surface. As her fingers met the water, time snapped.
Her breath hitched.
A memory—
Mira, wild-eyed, clutching a newborn wrapped in a thin, damp cloth. Her steps were frantic. Her bare feet splashed through shallow waters, as if she were running from death itself. She glanced over her shoulder, eyes wide with terror. Dark tendrils slithered behind her—not to capture, but to follow. To guard.
But Mira didn't know that.
She stumbled, clutching her baby closer. In her rush, something slipped.
The pendant.
It hit the water silently, sinking beneath reeds and fog as Mira vanished into the mist, unaware she'd dropped it.
Then—nothing.
Elara blinked. Her fingers found the chain.
"I've got it," she whispered, her voice hoarse. She pulled it from the murky water. Despite its time submerged, the pendant shimmered faintly—untouched by age, save for a thin layer of grime and marshy debris clinging to its edges. "Mira… she dropped it while running. She thought the tendrils were going to hurt her and the baby, but… they were trying to protect her."
Ariella stood close, eyes scanning the swirling fog. "Let's get out of here."
They left the marsh in silence, the pendant hanging cold and damp in Elara's hand.
Halfway back, beneath a twilight sky streaked in smudges of gray and red, Elara finally spoke.
"When I touched the pendant," she began, voice low, "I saw her. Mira. She was running... terrified. She didn't know the tendrils were guarding her."
Ariella glanced at her. "You had a vision?"
Elara nodded. "Yeah. It wasn't like the dreams. This was sharp—like I was there. Like the pendant remembered." She opened her hand and stared at the small charm lying in her palm. "It hasn't changed. It looks exactly the same. Like it waited for someone to return."
"Maybe it did," Ariella whispered. "Maybe it was never really lost."
Their steps quickened after that. The silence no longer comforted them.
And then Seraphina stepped into their path.
She wore black like mourning, but her stance reeked of war.
"Seraphina?" Ariella stiffened. "You're here?"
"We were starting to think you weren't coming back," Elara said, eyes narrowing. "Or maybe... that you'd already chosen your side."
Seraphina's lips curled into something that almost passed for a smile. "You always were sharp, Elara. Unfortunately, not sharp enough."
"You're working for him, aren't you?" Ariella said, her voice shaking. "The Shadow."
Seraphina didn't flinch. "I won't insult your intelligence by denying it. Since you already know... I won't waste time."
She stepped forward. "Give me the pendant."
Elara's grip tightened around it. "How? Why would you side with him?"
The wind stirred. Seraphina's gaze turned distant.
A memory—
A dark chamber. Chains. Laxman's screams echoing through damp stone walls. Her own voice raw from pleading. Days blurred into nights. No hope. No light.
Then—silence.
The shadows parted, and he came.
The Shadow.
"Your pain has lingered long enough," he said, voice like silk soaked in venom. "Obey me, and you'll suffer no more."
Her hands trembled. She nodded.
He smiled. "Good girl."
Thirteen years later, he found her again.
"I need something... a pendant. Once Mira's. It holds more than memory. It tethers Albert. We can't let them have that."
He looked beyond her. "The girls will lead you to it. Follow them."
The present—
Seraphina's eyes glinted. "He promised me a life without chains. I obeyed. I owe him everything."
"You don't owe him anything," Elara snapped. "You traded chains for a longer leash."
Ariella stepped forward. "That pendant belonged to Mira. It's not yours to take."
"You're right," Seraphina said, almost softly. "But it's his to claim. And I will not fail him."
Tension cut through the air like a blade. The girls stood ready—but Seraphina was faster.
She raised her hand, and black mist flared around her.
Before she could strike—
Elsewhere—
Albert stirred.
His eyes were glassy. Empty.
But not dead.
A whisper reached him, not from the Shadow. Not from Seraphina.
"Elara…"
His voice echoed. Not pleading. Not desperate.
Accusing.
"You let them take me."
His hands shook. A breath hitched in his throat. The sound of her laughter—once sunlight in his ears—now felt like a jagged shard slicing through the fog in his mind.
He remembered—blue skies. Her standing before him. Her hand reaching out. The first time she chose to protect him instead of fear him.
A single thread tugged at him. Fragile. Familiar. Warm.
Hope?
Then—it vanished.
The Shadow was already there.
He stood behind Albert like a looming monument of smoke, silent and patient.
He didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
The smoke curled around Albert, not like chains—but like dancers in celebration. Each wisp spun and twisted in joy, dancing through the air with eerie grace.
The final thread was fraying.
The Shadow watched, his form shifting and stretching like a living nightmare, eyes gleaming like hollow moons. His smile never formed, but Albert felt it—unseen, victorious.
"You were born to obey," the Shadow whispered, finally.
Albert's spine went rigid.
His heart beat Elara's name.
But his mind was cracking.
And his soul no longer knew which voice to trust.