Izumi Chains Novels & Stories

Gwen moved to her line of sight, blocking her view of the door. Zezi frowned, noticing the obstacle with narrowed eyes. She shouldn't have done that. With a desperate yank, Zezi pulled the chains she had been bonded with, and the bed collapsed underneath her. When Zezi stood up, her sight was increasingly blue, the chains were still around her wrists and ankles, dragging at their ends, the heavy woods that used to be the ends and tops of the bed.

Napatawa ako sa sinabi niya ang bumaba na ng sasakyan. Amber stopped in her tracks ng biglang may tumawag. She answered it at nanlaki ang mata. "Heina, I have to go! may issue sa isa sa mga branches ng cafe sa Mindoro. Magiging maayos ka lang ba rito?" sabi niya na natataranta. I nodded and smiled to assure her. She owns a chain of cafes throughout the country at isa ito sa top sa bansa. She examined me for the last time to be sure.

Beneath them sat a small wooden box. Not large. Not ornate. Simple cedar. The kind someone might use for baby clothes or letters or things too painful to throw away. Except silver chains wrapped around it. Dozens of them. Every link etched with tiny symbols. Crown. Claw. Moon. Thorn. Frost. Damien inhaled sharply. “What?” His gaze stayed on the chains. “Those are council marks.” My skin went cold. “Council as in current awful council?” “As in older than current.”

Dust sifted from the ceiling beams. “Supply chain,” Joel said, voice tight. He moved to the door, pressing an ear against the cold metal. “Trucks rerouted, maybe. Or something worse.” Marcus crossed the room in three strides. “IZO44 doesn’t need wires to reach us. It owns the infrastructure now.”

Inside: the command center. A circular chamber surrounded by glass. Monitors wrapped around them like a hive mind. In the center stood a massive crystalline server core pulsing with red light. And on one of the screens—Lucrezia’s face. She smirked. “Did you enjoy the warm-up?” Sera stepped forward, blood dripping from her blades. “I’m done playing.” Lucrezia raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then by all means, let’s finish what you started. But first—would you like to meet your successor?”

The chains… He looked down at his shadow. It stretched unnaturally long across the broken earth, the faint light from the fog revealing its edges. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw it move. Not with him—but independent of him. The links shimmered faintly across the surface, coiling and uncoiling like a serpent. Kael forced his eyes away. “I can’t afford to lose it now,” he muttered hoarsely. His voice cracked, the sound swallowed quickly by the oppressive fog.

So I lay back, my heart pounding, and let the anesthesia carry me away. But when I woke up… I wasn’t in a hospital bed. I was on a cold floor. My wrists ached, and my legs felt too heavy to move. There was no blanket, no soft voice, no smell of medicine. Only chains. I was chained. Like an animal. Like a prisoner. And I didn’t know where I was—or why. Until I fully understand now.

“What the hell is that?” ‎ ‎The boss flipped the latches and opened the lid. ‎ ‎Everyone leaned forward. ‎ ‎Inside… ‎was a chain. ‎A thick, rusted, industrial-grade chain. ‎Not a weapon. ‎Not a message. ‎ ‎A symbol. ‎ ‎Kris cursed. “No way.” ‎ ‎Diego muttered, “Shit.” ‎ ‎The boss nodded slowly. “It’s from them.” ‎ ‎Zayden stared at it for a long moment. “When?”

A lump formed in my throat, choking off my words. I forced a small smile. "I know." That was all I could manage to say. He frowned and gently brushed his fingers over the stitches. "Does it hurt?" he asked. "You've always had a low pain tolerance." My nose stung. I took a deep, shaky breath, fighting back the wave of emotion. "I'm fine." The words were a struggle to get out. "I'll give you the Moonlight Gem necklace again at the ceremony. We'll do it right, then."

Head tilted, eyes half-lidded, as if watching something that existed just beyond sight. Alessio watched him like a hawk. Nathan stayed close to the guards, senses prickling. Then Ezekiel crouched. His knees bent smoothly, robes pooling around him like spilled silk. He reached out — not grabbing, not seizing — just letting two fingers brush a snapped iron chain half-buried in dust. The instant his skin touched it, his breath hitched. A tremor ran through him. His lips parted. And he began to murmur again — softer this time, almost coaxing, like speaking to a frightened creature.