“The Links that Bind Us”

----------------------------------------

I stepped out of Morlen’s tent, my mind a mess of thoughts and frustrations, and let out a long, shaky breath. The morning sun was finally breaking through the thick clouds, casting a pale, ghostly light over the Sanctuary. I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to shake off the conversation and everything it stirred up inside me.

The Sanctuary of Chains stretched out before me—a patchwork of tents, lean-tos, and makeshift wooden homes that sprawled across a clearing surrounded by dense, ancient forest. It wasn’t much, but to us, it was home. A handful of permanent stone structures stood at the center, rough and worn, covered in moss and creeping ivy, remnants of something much older than any of us. It was strange how a place that felt so transient was also the only constant thing in our lives.

Accursed moved about, their chains clinking softly, mingling with the quiet murmur of morning conversations and the crackling of cookfires. Some were repairing their tents, others sharpening weapons, and a few were standing in small groups, talking in hushed tones. I could feel their eyes on me as I walked, hear the whispers that always seemed to follow.

“That’s him, the Tyrant…”

“...nearly got himself killed again…”

“… he's gonna get us all killed.”

I clenched my fists, the chains around my arms tightening in response, but I kept walking, refusing to let their words get under my skin. I’d heard it all before. I always would.

The Sanctuary was a refuge for us, but it wasn’t paradise. It was a cage we’d been thrown into, an agreement struck with the Mantled to keep us contained. And every Accursed here knew it. They all knew that stepping out of line would bring the gods’ judgment crashing down on us faster than we could blink.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I made my way toward the training grounds—a wide, open space at the edge of the Sanctuary, marked by a ring of wooden posts and scattered stones. It was mostly just dirt and rock, but it was where we practiced. Where we fought to keep the world from swallowing us whole.

Most Accursed practiced their abilities here, trying to keep their skills sharp, but rarely pushed themselves beyond what was necessary. It wasn’t about becoming stronger or more powerful—it was about surviving long enough to see another day. Jailers trained with Jailers, sharpening their control and mastery over the demons they held in check. Wardens drilled with Wardens, honing their raw strength and physical abilities. But Tyrants? We trained alone.

That was, except for me.

I saw her waiting for me, standing at the edge of the training grounds, arms crossed and an expectant look on her face. Saria always trained with me, and had been doing it for as long as I could remember. When everyone else kept their distance, she’d stayed. When I’d struggled to fight against the whispers, she’d helped me drown them out. She treated me like a Warden would another Warden, despite knowing I wasn’t, despite knowing I was the thing everyone else feared.

“About time,” she called out as I approached, raising an eyebrow. “You’re usually the one pestering me to get up this early.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. “Had a bit of a rough night.”

“No kidding.” She gave me a once-over, eyes lingering on the fresh bandages. “You still look like you went ten rounds with a bear and lost.”

“More like a bear, a wolf, and then some,” I replied, trying to muster up my usual grin. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

Saria didn’t laugh. “You ready?” she asked instead, motioning to the sparring area.

I nodded, rolling my shoulders and letting the chains around my arms loosen, falling into a ready position. “As I’ll ever be.”

We circled each other, Saria moving with the grace and precision of a seasoned fighter. Her chains were coiled around her forearms, loosely yet not hanging completely off, a sign of her control and flow with her chains. She struck first, lunging forward with a series of rapid punches, and I deflected them with my chains, stepping back to keep my distance.

“Your stance is sloppy,” she muttered, throwing a quick jab that I barely dodged. “You’re still favoring your left side.”

“That’s because my right side feels like it’s been torn apart,” I shot back, blocking her next attack with a grunt. “Sorry if I’m not at my best.”

She didn’t respond, pressing her advantage, her chains darting out to strike at me like serpents. I twisted away, catching them with my own chains and pulling, trying to disrupt her rhythm. But she was ready for that, and with a sharp twist, she had me off balance, her foot sweeping out to knock me flat on my back.

I stared up at the sky, groaning. “You’ve been practicing,” I muttered.

“You’ve been slacking,” she countered, standing over me. “Get up.”

I pushed myself to my feet, wincing at the ache in my side, and took up my stance again. We went at it for a while, the only sounds were the clink of chains, the thud of feet on dirt, and our labored breathing. Every time I tried to push forward, she was there, countering, redirecting, and forcing me to adapt. She was relentless, and I knew she wasn’t giving me an inch.

“You’re off today,” she said after a while, ducking under one of my swings and landing a quick jab to my ribs. “Usually, you’d be throwing some kind of smart-ass comment by now.”

“Guess I’m just not feeling very funny, or maybe my side is still in shreds” I muttered, deflecting her next strike and trying to regain my footing. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Is it about last night?” She stepped back, giving me a moment to breathe, her eyes searching mine. “You’ve had run-ins with the Mantled before, Ryn. What’s different this time?”

I hesitated, my chains falling slack at my sides. “It wasn’t just Demon Hunters. There were Inquisitors too.”

Her eyes widened. “Inquisitors? Here?”

I nodded. “I don’t think they know where the Sanctuary is, but they’re getting closer. Morlen’s not happy about it.”

“Well, no kidding,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s probably been waiting for this moment for years.” She paused, watching me carefully. “And what about you? You’re not… you’re not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?”

I snorted, though there was no humor in it. “You’ll have to be more specific. I’m always doing something stupid.”

“You know what I mean,” she pressed, taking a step closer, her voice lowering. “Don’t let them bait you into something you can’t walk away from, Ryn.”

I met her gaze, the weight of everything that had happened—the weight of everything that might happen—bearing down on me like an anvil. “I’m trying,” I said quietly. “I really am.”

Saria studied me for a moment longer, her expression softening just a bit. “Come on,” she said, stepping back into her stance. “We’ll keep going until you stop looking like a kicked puppy.”

I forced a smirk, raising my chains and trying to shake off the weight in my chest. “You’re just looking for an excuse to hit me again.”

“And you’re giving me plenty of reasons,” she shot back, and this time, there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

The tension eased, if only a little, as we moved through the motions again. And for a moment, it was just the two of us—the chains, the dust, and the familiar rhythm of a fight that never really ended.

Saria’s chains were a blur of motion, striking out with a force that left the air humming, and I had to throw myself to the side to avoid them. Her style was always like that—aggressive, relentless, every strike designed to overwhelm and batter her opponent into submission. She fought like she was trying to crush you underfoot, no hesitation, no wasted movements. It was what made her such a formidable Warden.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t afford to fight like that. Where she was raw power and speed, I was precision and patience. My chains darted out, aiming for gaps in her defenses, quick, surgical strikes meant to test and probe rather than to overpower. If Saria was a storm, then I was the lightning, seeking out the path of least resistance. It was a lesson she’d drilled into me over years of training—that I’d never be able to match a Warden in brute strength. I’d have to be smarter, faster, more controlled.

“Still too slow!” Saria barked, her chains crashing down toward me, the links crackling with a faint, eerie glow. I sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a strike that would’ve caved in my shoulder, and lashed out with my own chains, aiming for her wrist.

But she was ready, as always, twisting her arm at the last second and using the momentum to swing a roundhouse kick that I barely managed to block with a raised forearm. The impact sent a jolt of pain through my bones, and I staggered back, teeth gritted.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she taunted, her eyes flashing. The veins along her arms, usually dark and faint, flared to life, shifting from their usual crimson to a deep, pulsing blue. Her muscles seemed to ripple and expand, and I could feel the temperature around us drop as she drew more deeply on her inner corruption, bending it to her will.

“Not even close,” I shot back, even as I tried to catch my breath. I could feel my own chains humming in response, vibrating with a low, almost eager energy. They wanted me to draw on my power, to let them loose, to let the demon within me take over. But I couldn’t afford to give in, not even a little. Not against her. Not against anyone.

She surged forward, pressing the attack, and this time, I saw the faintest glow of her veins extend to her legs. She’d drawn more of that power into her muscles, and her speed nearly doubled. I barely managed to block her next strike, and even then, I felt the force of it ripple through my body like a shockwave, my feet sliding back across the dirt.

“Come on, Ryn!” she snarled, her breath visible in the now frigid air. “If you’re not going to fight me for real, then just lay down and let me beat you already!”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I let my body move on instinct, drawing on every lesson she’d ever taught me, every trick she’d drilled into my skull over the years. My chains shot forward, aiming not for her but for the ground beneath her feet, and in one smooth motion, I yanked them back, pulling up a cloud of dust and dirt.

She hesitated, just for a second, and that was all I needed.

I lunged forward, my chains coiling around my fists, and struck at her with a rapid series of blows, aiming for her ribs, her neck, her legs—anywhere that might force her to fall back. She blocked most of them, but I felt one punch connect, a glancing blow to her shoulder that made her flinch.

“There it is,” she grinned, shaking out her arm as if she hadn’t felt a thing. “You’re learning.”

“Had a good teacher,” I muttered, though there was no time to dwell on the compliment. She was already moving again, her chains snapping out to wrap around mine, twisting and tangling them in a knot that forced me to stumble forward. Before I could react, her fist came crashing toward my face.

I barely had time to duck, the blow grazing my cheek and sending a stinging pain down my jaw. But this time, I didn’t back away. I stepped into her guard, using the momentum to drive my knee into her gut. She grunted, but instead of backing off, she seized the opportunity to pull me in closer, her chains wrapping around my torso like a python.

“Better,” she murmured, eyes locked onto mine, and there was something almost… proud in her voice. “But not good enough.”

I felt it then, a ripple of power that surged through her body, the dark veins along her skin flaring brighter, the color shifting from blue to a stark, glowing white. It was a trick I’d seen her use a hundred times, a Wardens’ technique that allowed them to amplify their strength by channeling every ounce of their corruption into a single, devastating attack. The ground beneath us cracked, splintering under the pressure of it.

“Shit,” I muttered, bracing myself.

Saria twisted her body, using her chains to pivot and launch me across the training grounds. I hit the dirt hard, my body skidding several feet before I managed to roll to a stop. My vision blurred, the world spinning, but I forced myself back up, ignoring the pain, the dizziness, the blood trickling from my nose.

“On your feet, Ryn!” Saria barked. “I didn’t train you to stay down!”

I could feel my demon laughing in the back of my mind, urging me to give in, to let it take control, to unleash everything I’d been holding back. But I wasn’t going to give it the satisfaction. Not today. Not ever.

"Alright," I muttered, dragging myself upright. "You want a real fight? You got it."

I took a deep breath, letting the energy flow through me, but instead of reaching for the power that lurked just beneath the surface, I focused inward, drawing from my own strength, my own will. It was another trick she’d taught me—how to tap into the corruption without letting it consume me, how to bend it to my will instead of the other way around.

The chains around my arms responded, shifting from their usual crimson to a deep, obsidian black, like polished onyx, with faint traces of dark purple running through the runes etched into them. The colors pulsed with a muted, eerie glow, like something pulled from the depths of a nightmare, radiating a cold, unsettling aura. The effect was immediate—I saw her eyes widen, just a fraction, that spark of surprise flickering across her face before she masked it. And that was all the encouragement I needed.

I charged forward, closing the distance between us in an instant, and this time, I didn’t hold back. My chains lashed out, striking with the precision of a serpent, each blow aimed at the weak points in her guard—the joints, the tendons, the places where her armor offered the least protection. And as we clashed, I could see her smile, fierce and wild, like she was enjoying every second of this.

"That's it!" she yelled, deflecting one of my strikes with a flick of her wrist. "Now fight!"

I grinned, blood on my teeth. "I am!"

We moved as one, our chains intertwining, clashing, sparking with every collision. Each strike echoed across the training grounds, a rhythm of metal and sweat and fury. And as I pushed back against her, as I matched her blow for blow, I could feel it—the corruption inside me, that raw, dark energy always just out of reach, bending, twisting, obeying my will.

With a final surge, I forced her back, driving her chains into the dirt with a powerful strike. She stumbled, her guard momentarily dropped, and I stepped forward, my chains wrapping around her wrist, pinning her in place.

We stood there, panting, staring at each other, our breath fogging in the morning air.

“Well,” she finally said, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Took you long enough.”

“Had to make sure you were paying attention,” I replied, unable to keep the grin off my face.

She rolled her eyes, not missing a beat. Her chains snapped forward, wrapping around my neck in a heartbeat, and before I could react, she used her free hand to grab my arm and slam me over her shoulder. The world spun, and I hit the ground hard, air exploding from my lungs.

"Nice to see you’re back to your usual cocky self," she smirked, tightening her grip just enough to make sure I couldn’t wriggle free.

I wheezed, trying to catch my breath. “You—really need—better ways to show affection.”

She chuckled, not loosening her grip just yet, her chains still coiled around my neck like a serpent. "Oh, come on," she teased, leaning over me, "I thought you liked it rough."

I tapped out, smacking her arm twice, and she finally released me with a satisfied grin, the pressure around my throat easing. I sucked in a breath, coughing, my pride stinging more than anything else.

"You always do that," I groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of my neck. "You know, normal people just say 'good job' or something."

“Lucky for you, I’m not normal,” she shot back, offering me a hand. I took it, letting her pull me to my feet, even as my legs protested the movement. “But hey,” she added, giving me a playful punch to the shoulder, “you’re getting better.”

“Yeah, until you throw me on my ass again,” I muttered, rubbing the soreness in my back.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Saria shrugged, chains retracting as she glanced at me with that familiar glint in her eyes. “You’ll just have to keep up, won’t you?”

Saria stretched, the movement fluid and effortless, her body a testament to years of relentless training. I couldn’t help but stare a bit, just for a moment, as her brunette hair, braided back to keep it out of her eyes, caught the morning light. The dark veins along her arms pulsed a subtle blue, matching the faint glow of her chains that coiled loosely around her wrists. Her toned physique was hard to ignore—muscles flexing beneath her skin as she rolled her shoulders, her movements always precise and confident. She wasn’t overly muscular—just the right blend of power and speed, packed neatly in a deceptively graceful frame.

Everything about her screamed tomboy. She wasn’t like the delicate, soft-spoken types you’d expect to find lounging around, not that most gals around here were, but she felt more like one of the guys. No, Saria was all grit and fire, the kind who wouldn’t hesitate to throw you into the dirt if you got too cocky. Her stance alone showed that she was built for close-quarters combat, favoring hand-to-hand over flashy tricks with demons. Wardens, like her, it was just their chains and muscles. Just raw power, their bodies honed into weapons as much as the chains they wielded.

Her gear was minimal—most Accursed didn’t bother with heavy armor. If they wore any, it was usually light and only covered vital areas, allowing for speed and agility. Her clothing was practical, built for movement, with patches of leather guarding her chest and shoulders. Everything else was left bare, giving her the freedom to move, to fight, to control her chains without restriction.

She was a force of nature, wrapped in chains and relentless in her training. The kind of person you didn’t want to mess with unless you were ready to get hurt. And yet, despite all that, there was something natural about the way she carried herself—no arrogance, no showboating. Just pure, unfiltered skill.

“Alright,” she said, her lips quirking into a faint, teasing smile, her blue eyes glinting with challenge. “A few more rounds, then we grab breakfast. Unless you’re already tapped out?”

She knew I wouldn’t back down from that.

“Me?” I scoffed, trying to ignore the way my body ached. “Not a chance. I’m just getting warmed up.”

She smirked, eyes glinting with that familiar competitive spark that always made my pulse quicken. “Good,” she said, dropping back into her stance, chains slithering back to life around her forearms. “Because I’m not done kicking your ass yet.”

I took a breath, settling into my own stance, feeling the familiar weight of my chains shift against my skin. “You talk a big game, Saria. Let’s see if you can back it up.”

“Always do,” she shot back, and then she was moving, faster than a whip, her chains striking out at me with that raw, unrestrained power that she always seemed to have in reserve. I barely managed to sidestep, feeling the air crackle as her chains passed dangerously close to my face.

/-/

I cracked my neck, trying to work out the soreness creeping in from the sparring session. Every muscle ached, and I could already tell I’d be feeling this all day. But I wasn’t the only one; Saria’s breathing was heavier than usual, her forehead glistening with a fine layer of sweat as she leaned against a tree, her chest rising and falling steadily. She tried to hide it, but I could see it—the exhaustion creeping into her stance, the slight tremble in her fingers as she retracted her chains.

“Not bad,” she admitted, a begrudging smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re actually starting to keep up.”

“Keep up?” I scoffed, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension. “Pretty sure I almost had you there. Twice.”

“Almost,” she emphasized, eyes narrowing playfully. “But almost doesn’t count, Ryn. You know that.”

“Guess I’ll just have to try harder next time,” I muttered, though a part of me knew the truth—knew that I was still holding back, that I always held back, even with her.

Saria’s gaze shifted, studying me intently, like she could see right through every defense I’d carefully constructed. “You know, you’d be stronger if you stopped pulling your punches.”

“I’m not pulling anything,” I lied, trying to ignore the way her eyes bore into me. “Just didn’t want to break you.”

She snorted, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Please. I’ve taken worse hits in my sleep.”

“Yeah?” I muttered, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at my lips. “Then maybe I should start hitting harder.”

“Maybe you should,” she challenged, taking a step closer, her eyes never leaving mine. “But you won’t. You’re still scared of what you might become if you let go.”

I bristled at her words, even though a part of me knew she was right. “I’m not scared,” I snapped, more defensively than I intended.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Then prove it. Because right now, you’re fighting like you’re chained to something else, not just your demon.”

I fell silent, my hands unconsciously curling around the links of my chains, feeling the familiar pulse of their energy beneath my fingertips. She was stronger than me, that much was clear, but not by a lot. And every time we fought, every time I got close to matching her, I could feel it—the raw, untamed power clawing at the edges of my consciousness, begging to be let loose. Begging to take control.

“Why does it matter to you, anyway?” I muttered, unable to meet her gaze. “If I fight or if I don’t?”

“Because I see it,” she said quietly. “The potential you have. And it pisses me off that you’d rather run from it than face it head-on.”

“We all fight our demons, Ryn. It’s just a matter of who’s stronger.” She walks over lightly flicking his forehead “We all got issues remember, you ain’t alone”

I glanced up at her, and for a moment, I saw something else in her eyes—something softer, more vulnerable than the usual confidence. It was enough to make me feel like, maybe, she understood a bit more than I gave her credit for. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t end up as a pile of regrets and wasted potential.”

I let out a breath, shaking my head with a tired laugh. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she replied, and this time, when she smiled, it felt like a small spark of light in the darkness that always seemed to hover over us. “Now, how about that breakfast? Maybe it’ll give you the energy to stop holding back next time.”

“Maybe I’ll just hold back less,” I shot back, though the words carried a little more weight this time, a little more promise. “Can’t have you getting too cocky, can I?”

“Good luck with that,” she teased, turning away and heading toward the camp. “Now come on, I’m starving.”

I followed her, rolling my shoulders and stretching out the soreness from our spar. “You’re always starving.”

She threw a glance over her shoulder, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, if you fought as hard as I do, you’d be hungry all the time too.”

“Is that what you’re calling it?” I muttered, grinning. “I figured you just liked bossing me around.”

“Perks of being stronger,” she called back lightly. “Now hurry up. Before I eat your share too.”

I shook my head, unable to stop the smile forming on my face as I fell into step behind her, the tension of the morning easing slightly. There was something about Saria’s presence that always managed to pull me out of my head, even if just for a little while.

We made our way to our usual spot—her favorite, tucked away near the edge of the camp, where the trees parted just enough to give us a view of the forest beyond Sanctuary's borders. The air was crisp, carrying the faint smell of wood smoke and the scent of earth still damp from last night's rain. As we walked, I glanced around, watching as Sanctuary finally came to life.

More Accursed moved about now, settling into their daily routines. A group of Jailers practiced near the sparring grounds, their chains flickering with controlled bursts of power as they honed their ability to subjugate their demons. The sight of them training their control, keeping the dark forces within them in check, was a familiar one. Their chains hummed with the eerie energy of demons they had mastered, the faint echoes of those battles still resonating in the air around them.

On the other side, Wardens were focused on their own forms of mastery. Some worked tirelessly to strengthen their bodies, engaging in hand-to-hand combat or weapon drills, while others focused on refining their chains—learning to manipulate them with precision and skill. Unlike the Jailers, who wielded their chains as tools to subdue, Wardens treated their chains like an extension of themselves.

It was a daily rhythm—one of survival, discipline, and preparation, we had to be ready for anything.

People were everywhere, making do with what they had, and here, out on our own, there was no luxury of relying on anyone but ourselves. We’d had to learn to be self-sufficient, from building our homes with our own hands to growing or hunting our food. No cities, no gods watching over us—just us and the chains that bound us.

There were no towering buildings here, no bustling streets or grand temples. Instead, the homes were simple—wooden structures with thatched roofs, built with care but meant for survival more than comfort. A few tended to the small vegetable patches outside their homes, others worked on reinforcing the walls or repairing tools. Even though we were far from the cities, the need to defend ourselves never really went away.

I could see the faint glow of chains wrapping around most of the Accursed, either trailing lazily at their sides or coiled tightly around their arms, some more visible than others. Here, it wasn’t unusual to see people openly using their chains, unlike in the cities where they’d be hunted down on sight. But even in this supposed safety, there was an underlying tension. We all knew what would happen to us if we stepped out of line, and even though no one would openly talk about it, the reminder was always there.

Saria led the way, her pace easy, as though she were taking in the calm before the storm. I couldn’t help but notice the way her posture relaxed as we neared the edge of camp. It was her place—where she could think, unwind. “I like it out here,” she had told me once. “No one’s watching, no one’s judging. Just us.”

When we reached the spot, she stretched, giving me a sidelong glance. “You know, you could’ve taken me down back there.”

I smirked, knowing she was just poking at me. “Maybe next time,” I replied, though I couldn’t help but grin. “Can’t make it too easy for you.”

“Sure,” she teased, dropping down onto the ground with a satisfied sigh. “You keep telling yourself that. Now let’s eat before you start making excuses.”

I sat down beside her, the quiet settling in around us as the rest of Sanctuary buzzed on in the background. Here, at least for a moment, it felt like we could breathe.

"Alright, let's eat," Saria said, settling down onto the grass with a contented sigh.

I sat beside her, pulling out the small bundle of food we’d grabbed before heading to the edge of the Sanctuary. It wasn’t much, but it was enough—bread, some dried meat, and a few berries we’d foraged along the way. Life here wasn’t about luxury, but we made do.

“Don’t suppose we’ll ever get real meals out here,” I teased, taking a bite of the bread, dry but filling.

Saria smirked. “You want fancy, go back to the cities. Just don’t expect to come back.” She lightly poked my side not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me of where that inquisitor sliced me and where she had patched me up

I laughed softly, though the weight of her words hung in the air between us. The cities were out of reach for people like us, Accursed. There wasn’t any going back, not with chains like ours wrapped around us.

“Alright alright, I get it. Well, I’ll settle for this then,” I replied, popping a berry into my mouth. "Beats starvation, I guess."

"Glad you're finally coming to terms with the fine dining here," she said with a mock air of sophistication, biting into her own share of dried meat.

As Saria and I settled into our meal, a familiar voice rang out from behind us.

"Ah, there you two lovebirds are!"

I glanced up and couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them—two figures approaching with easy familiarity. First was Dax, his chain loosely around his wrists, He strode over with a wide grin, his steps light, almost bouncing as if nothing in the world could weigh him down. His sun-kissed hair, cropped short, framed a face that seemed permanently set to "smile." Dax always had this infectious energy about him, like he could brighten even the darkest corners of Sanctuary with just his presence. His chains, thinner and more wiry than most, trailed loosely around his waist, their dark sheen betraying the power he kept under control but rarely showed off.

Beside him was Elira her chains were tightly interlocking in a beautiful pattern along her arms going up to her shoulders, —calm and collected as ever. Elira was tall and slender, her features sharp but delicate, framed by straight black hair that fell just past her shoulders. The quiet, almost ethereal glow of her chains pulsed faintly, casting subtle shadows over their serene expression. Elira always moved with a graceful stillness, the opposite of Dax’s constant energy. She was the oldest of the group, only a couple of years older than the rest of us, but she carried herself like an elder sibling, watching over the younger Accursed with a quiet protectiveness.

“Dax,” Saria groaned, rolling her eyes. “You’re ruining the moment.”

“Elira, come get your friend,” I added, smirking up at her.

Elira stepped up beside Dax, her posture relaxed, arms crossed as her grey-glowing chains coiled like serpents around her forearms. “I’d leave him to his own devices, but then who would keep him from getting into trouble?”

“Exactly!” Dax beamed, dropping down onto the grass beside us. “And anyway, how are the two lovebirds doing this fine morning?”

Saria gave him a playful glare. "You always assume something's going on."

Dax winked. “Only because it’s so obvious!”

"Leave them be, Dax," Elira said with a soft chuckle, sitting beside him, their chains now lying still against the ground. Despite being the oldest of the group, Elira had always maintained a quiet wisdom without being overbearing, like a steady presence we could all rely on. They glanced between us, their tone as calm as ever. “You’re not injured again, are you, Ryn?”

I shrugged, trying to brush off the pain still throbbing in my side. "Nothing that Saria hasn’t already patched up."

Elira gave me a knowing look but didn’t press further. Instead, she reclined against a nearby tree, her chains shifting slightly with their movement, always maintaining quiet control. “Good. I’d rather not have to drag you back from the brink… again.”

"You can’t help it," Dax interjected, flashing another grin. "You love us."

"Love has limits," Elira responded dryly, though a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

Dax leaned back, stretching out his arms as he basked in the sunlight. “Well, we’ve got the day ahead of us! What’s the plan? More training? Or are we gonna sneak off into the woods and avoid responsibility like sensible Accursed?”

“Speak for yourself,” Saria shot back. “Some of us actually enjoy training.”

“I’ll leave the masochism to you Wardens,” Dax teased, flashing that ever-present grin. “I prefer to enjoy life.”

“You’re a Warden too, idiot,” I shot back, popping another berry into my mouth.

Dax laughed, throwing his hands up. “Details, details. We all know I’m an honorary slacker at heart.”

The banter between us was familiar, easy—a brief escape from the weight that always hung over us in the Sanctuary. For a moment, sitting together like this, it almost felt normal. Like we weren’t just Accursed, surviving on the edge of the world. We were just four people enjoying the simple act of being alive.

"Anyway," Dax continued, leaning back and stretching out, "you up for some fun today, Ryn? I don’t feel like going up against a sparring partner as boring as Elira again."

Elira shot him a cool, sidelong glance, her expression unreadable. "I’ll take that as a compliment."

Elira tilted her head, her expression calm but with a subtle glint of challenge in her eyes. "Why not a few rounds with me then, Ryn? Might be a bit gentler on you than Saria."

I snorted, raising an eyebrow. "Gentler? You? I’ve seen you drop Dax like a sack of rocks in under a minute."

“That was a fluke," Dax cut in, waving off the memory like it wasn’t one of the most embarrassing moments of his life. "Besides, I was distracted."

“Distracted?" Saria raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her voice. "By what? The ground rushing to meet your face?"

Elira’s lips twitched slightly, the closest thing she’d get to laughing at Dax’s expense. "You know me, Ryn," she continued, ignoring the banter. "I don’t rely on brute strength. It’s all about finesse and control. You could use some practice with that, don’t you think?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the soreness in my muscles flare up again. "Yeah, I dunno. I’m not sure I’ve got the energy to deal with either of you today."

"You’re really just going to turn down the chance to train with me?" Elira asked, a slight tease creeping into her usually calm tone.

“Yup. As much as I enjoy being tossed around by a Jailer, I think I’ll pass," I replied, shooting a smirk her way. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Suit yourself," she said, leaning back against the tree. "But don’t say I didn’t offer."

Dax leaned forward, tossing another berry into his mouth. “You really are losing your edge, Ryn. Turning down a sparring match with Elira? Who are you and what have you done with our thrill seeker?”

I shrugged. “Maybe I’ve learned to pick my battles. Or maybe the fact I was nearly gutted like a fish is getting to me”

“Or maybe you’re just getting soft,” Saria teased, nudging me with her shoulder.

I groaned. “You’re all relentless, you know that?”

Elira’s calm gaze flicked between the three of us. “Relentless... but not wrong.”

Saria finished her breakfast, wiping her hands before stretching her arms with a cocky grin. “Fine then, Dax, since Ryn’s still patching up his boo-boos, I’ll take you on."

Dax's eyes widened in mock horror, but he was grinning. “Oh no, I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning back against the tree. “This is gonna be good.”

“You two really think you can handle watching greatness in action?” Dax boasted as he stood up, shaking out his limbs. “I’ll go easy on you, Saria. I know you’ve been through enough today.”

Saria rolled her eyes, rising to her feet with a smirk. “You keep telling yourself that, Dax. Might help cushion the blow when I put you on the ground.”

“Oh, big talk from someone who still has dirt from last round on her back,” he teased, dodging the playful swipe she aimed at him.

I leaned forward, grinning as I watched them square off. “Place your bets, Elira. This one’s gonna be over fast.”

Elira remained calm, arms crossed. “Fast, yes. But don’t expect any surprises.”

As Saria and Dax faced off, their chains began to pulse, coming to life around them. Saria’s movements were all controlled aggression—each step measured, her muscles taut with power, ready to strike. Dax, on the other hand, had a more fluid, carefree stance, like he was just waiting for the perfect moment to dance out of the way.

“Don’t hold back now,” Saria said, her smile full of fire.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dax replied, chains already sparking around his arms.

I leaned back, crossing my arms. This was gonna be fun.

Just as I was getting ready to follow those two back to the training ground, Elira snatched a berry from my hand, her movements as swift and fluid as ever. "Oi!" I protested, glaring at her.

"Too slow," she said with a shrug, popping the berry into her mouth without even breaking eye contact.

I huffed, crossing my arms. "You know, you could at least ask before stealing my food."

She tilted her head, her calm expression never wavering. "And you’re sparring with me later. No ifs, ands, or buts."

I groaned, leaning back. "I thought I made it clear I’m not in the mood to get tossed around today."

Elira’s eyes narrowed slightly, her tone soft but firm. "You’ve been dodging me for days, Ryn. You’re not getting out of it this time."

I sighed, knowing better than to argue when she got like this. "Fine, fine. But if you break me, I’m holding you responsible."

"That’s the plan," she replied dryly, her lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smile.

I groaned, throwing my head back dramatically. “Oh, come on! Haven’t I suffered enough today?”

“Nope,” she replied, deadpan. “You’ve got a lot to learn, and I’m not letting you get lazy.”

Saria, overhearing, chuckled as she and Dax, made their way to the training ground "You’re really not catching any breaks today, are you, Ryn?"

I shot her a glare. “You’re all heart, really.”

Elira gave me a sideways glance, her smirk widening. “Don’t worry, Ryn. I’ll go easy on you.”

"Great. Just what I need—pity from a Jailer."