Chapter 35: Syrup and Threats

The water surrounded Camela like ice. She struggled, her breath hitching as her hands flailed through the dark water while she strived to maintain her balance.

“Vincent!” Her voice cracked, swallowed by the endless darkness of the black water.

Under the surface eyes blinked, hundreds of them unblinking and watching. A scaled tail brushed against her thigh again, slow and deliberate. She froze, her heartbeat pounding louder than her thoughts.

From the darkness came a whisper.

“Bride…”

The voice was gentle, almost sweet—like syrup too thick and sticky—but there was a hard edge to it, a hidden threat wrapped in sweetness.

Camela’s throat tightened. “Who’s there?”

The water bubbled and something surfaced—a pale face breaking through the waves. It wasn’t human; its skin was too smooth, its mouth too wide, with lips curling into a smile that never reached its cold eyes.

“You fall, and we catch,” it whispered. “We keep what enters the cage.”

Camela kicked back in panic, but more eyes opened beneath the waves—dozens, hundreds—all circling her.

“No…” She shook her head fiercely, her wet hair clinging to her face. “I don’t belong to you! Let me go!” she exclaimed.

The creature's smile grew wider, revealing sharp teeth like needles. “You swore blood. You belong to them. And if you belong to them…you belong to us.”

Her stomach twisted at the thought—the oath she had taken whispered like a death sentence in her mind. She pressed her hands against her ears as if she could block out the words, but the whispers continued to seep through regardless.

“We feed on promises. We drink chains. We taste lies. Bride…you are sweeter than all.”

Camela trembled with fear. “Stay back!” she yelled while she flailed back in the water.

The water swirled violently around her. Something brushed against her ankle then tightened—a scaled tail coiling like a snake around her leg. She kicked out desperately, but it pulled harder, dragging her beneath the surface of the water.

She gasped and swallowed water instead of air. Her scream bubbled into silence below the black water.

She struggled, flailing in the water. The creature's grip pulled her down deeper. The water became darker and colder, making her lungs burn.

Then, through the blur of the dark, she spotted something shining.

Chains.

They hung like vines in the water, twisting down from above, each one glowing faintly red and pulsing with light.

And on one of them was Vincent’s hand.

Her heart raced. He was there—close enough for her to see his pale, strained face, though not close enough to touch him. His lips moved without a sound.

Camela attempted to reach out to him, but she struggled with the water surrounding her, which made her vision blur.

Just as she was about to grab his hand, the creature dragged her down into the water again. Its face came close, with eyes glimmering with danger.

“You’ll never reach him,” it whispered sweetly. “You must choose which cage you love most, him or yourself.”

Her limbs flailed weakly as her strength faded away.

Then suddenly, Vincent’s voice broke through the water—strong and urgent.

“Camela!”

Her eyes snapped open; his voice pierced through the waves like fresh air.

“Fight it!” he urged loudly. “You’re stronger than they are! Don’t let them drag you under!”

Her chest ached and her lungs screamed for air, but his words ignited a fire within her.

She slammed her free fist at the creature's face, striking it hard enough that its skin cracked like glass and shards scattered into the water. It shrieked in pain as its grip loosened on her slightly.

Camela kicked upwards, reaching for the chains above her head. Her hand stretched out, her fingers grazing the cold metal just as the creature pounced at her again.

Her nails scraped along the chain as she grabbed hold of it tightly and pulled herself up with every breath she had left.

Her head broke through the surface. She coughed hard, struggling for air as water streamed down her face.

The room around her had transformed. It was no longer an endless expanse of black water but instead had glass walls. She was floating in a tank, illuminated by torches outside.

And just beyond the glass stood the council. The red-tied man smiled, his hands neatly folded.

“You swim well, bride,” his voice echoed.

Her chest heaved with anger. She pounded her fist against the glass. “Let me out!”

The red-tied man tilted his head slightly. “Why should we? You walked into our chains willingly. You whispered our vow. You belong to us now.”

Vincent's voice rang out from above. “She’s not yours!”

Camela looked up, her heart breaking at the sight of him chained to the wall, his arms bound in glowing shackles, his body battered with bruises but unbroken. His eyes blazed down at them with fury.

“Touch her,” he growled, “and I’ll rip your throats out.”

The red-tied man's smile remained unchanged. “You see, bride? Even in chains, he threatens. Even in danger, he fights back. That’s why we test him and you.”

Camela pressed her palms harder against the glass. “What do you want from me?”

The council’s voices rose together like thunder.

“Choice.”

Chills ran through her veins.

“You will drink,” said the red-tied man softly as he gestured to a servant who stepped forward with a silver goblet filled with thick, dark liquid. “One cup of syrup of vow. If you drink it, the bond is sealed…you and the fox will be one chain forever.”

Camela felt her throat tighten. “And if I don’t?”

His smile turned thin and threatening. “Then he dies.”

Her heart froze at those words.

Vincent's voice broke through again, raw with urgency. “Camela…don't listen! It's poison! No matter what happens, don’t drink it.”

The council laughed—a sound that echoed horrifyingly within the chamber. “See that, bride? He even resists you,” they mocked. “He even tells you no.”

Camela’s fists shook against the glass as she demanded, “Why are you doing this?”

The red-tied man bent down near the tank, his lips nearly touching the glass as if he were sharing a secret. “That’s because love is the strongest chain of all.”

The servant raised the goblet, tilting it just enough for the thick, syrupy liquid to drip down the glass. Its color was a deep red, almost black, and it had a sweet scent that felt heavy in the air.

The scent filled the tank, suffocating her while her stomach stirred with both hunger and disgust.

The red-tied man spoke softly, his voice smooth as honey. “Drink, bride. Sweet as love. Bitter as death. One sip, and your place is chosen.”

Camela shook her head fiercely. “No. I refuse.”

Vincent's voice cut through again, strong and commanding. “Good. Stand your ground.”

The council’s laughter grew louder. “Stubborn bride. Stubborn fox. How long before one of you gives in?”

The red-tied man tapped the glass once with his finger, creating a sound that echoed like thunder.

“Maybe we should assist you in making a choice,” he suggested.

The water in the tank shifted, becoming heavier and pressing against her chest. Her limbs fought against it, each movement feeling increasingly difficult. The glass walls shimmered faintly with runes she couldn’t read.

“Camela!” Vincent’s shout rang out from above. “Fight it! Don’t let them take your will!”

Her breath came in shaky gasps. “I’m trying…”

But the syrup smell grew stronger, overwhelming her senses, until she gagged and covered her mouth.

The whisper of the red-tied man slipped through the glass. “Drink, bride. Drink…or watch him bleed.” He flicked his wrist.

The shackles holding Vincent glowed brighter as he arched back, choking and trembling against the chains.

“No!” Camela screamed, pounding both fists against the glass until her skin broke and blood smeared across the glass surface.

“Stop! Please…just stop!” she cried out.

But all that greeted her was the cold smiles from the council that came with a command.

“Then drink.”

Her knees trembled in the water as she gazed at Vincent, whose face was ghostly pale from pain, his eyes still fixed on hers.

“Don’t,” he gasped. “Camela…don’t give them what they want.”

Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the water. “They’re killing you!”

His jaw tightened. “Better me than you.”

Those words pierced her heart. She leaned her forehead against the glass, sobbing. “I can’t lose you.”

The voice of the red-tied man slithered through again. “Then drink, bride. Drink for love. Drink for the chains.”

The goblet dipped toward the water, just enough for the thick red syrup to touch its surface and it slowly spread like blood through the water.

Camela’s eyes widened as it moved closer to her lips.

“No…” she whispered, shaking her head. “No…”

Vincent's voice cracked as he called out to her, “Camela!”

Her body shook as the syrup touched her mouth—sweet, heavy, and clinging.

She parted her lips—

And then the chamber trembled violently.

The goblet shattered in the servant’s hand, sending shards flying everywhere.

The red-tied man turned sharply and exclaimed, “What…”

Suddenly, the torches ignited into blue flames, cracks appeared in the walls, and the water inside the tank began to boil.

Camela gasped and pulled back as the syrup evaporated into steam.

Above her, Vincent lifted his head; his eyes glowed a faint red—and his voice was no longer his own.

“Enough.”

The council stood frozen in shock.

The chains that bound him snapped apart and Vincent fell from the wall—splashing straight into the water beside her.

She gasped when his arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. The water surged around them, and the glass walls shook, threatening to shatter.

“Vincent…” She struggled to speak.

His eyes blazed with intensity. “I told you…We fight together.”

The glass fractured, cracking in intricate patterns like spiderwebs.

The council shouted in anger. The red-tied man raised his hands, but the flames twisted around him, refusing to let go of him.

Vincent pressed his forehead against hers. “When it breaks, hold on to me,” he whispered.

Camela's voice trembled. “What if it kills us?”

His lips brushed against her ear as he whispered, “Better that than being chained.”

The glass creaked frighteningly.

Camela gripped his hand tightly, her heart racing.

With one final crack—the glass shattered and exploded outward.

Water poured into the chamber like a flood, knocking the council members off their feet and extinguishing torches while drowning out their screams.

Camela screamed as the force of the water current pulled her under again, swirling through the remnants of the glass cage. Vincent’s grip held hers tight.

But amidst the chaos of rushing water—something darker was lurking around.

The scaled creatures surged forward in hundreds, their eyes glowing eerily.

Their hissing voices echoed through the flood.

“You cannot break chains, bride. You can only trade them.”

And as Camela struggled to catch her breath, one of them lunged—its jaws snapping around Vincent’s arm.