Rusted Chains Novels & Stories

When the guard let the chain fall, the weight of it pulled a soft clank out of the metal, a sound that seemed too small for a hall this size. Rogues crowded the perimeter like carrion birds waiting for meat to stop twitching. Their armor was a patchwork of scavenged plates, dented greaves, leather stiff with old blood. Torchlight picked out feral eyes and teeth gone too long without a civilized table. They stank of wet fur, of old smoke, of impatience.

“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?”

He directly faced the attack from the three chains. Clatter! With a loud clatter, the chains suddenly spread out around Fulton at a distance of one meter away from him. They quickly formed a circular arc, trying to chain Fulton up! With a twitch in his eye, Gustav yanked with his left hand and the three chains went taut. They quickly shrank! One careless move and Fulton would be bound by these three chains! Once trapped, there was no escape! That was because these chains were inscribed with runes by a mage and could continuously devour the energy of the person being chained while suppressing the control of rules!

Richard Fuck, these silver chains; if only they weren't binding my body, I could have freed myself and escaped this wretched place. The weight of these chains burns my body and leaves me feeling helpless, like a prisoner in my own skin. And to add to my suffering, wolfbane was injected into my body, causing a constant ache that courses through my veins. The combination of the chains and the wolfbane is a cruel reminder of my captivity, making every movement a painful reminder of my confinement. I yearn for the day when I can break free from these restraints and reclaim my freedom once again.

Just how long has it been since that incident had happened? The rusty chains that bound her had become an extension of her own torment, biting into her wrist and ankle, leaving infected wounds and bruises. Her hair, once a cascade of silk and sun-kissed beauty, now hung in tangled, matted strands around her face; gone was the lustrous sheen, replaced by a dull, greasy patina that clung to the memory of better days. The key turned in the rusted lock with a reluctant groan, the metallic rasp echoing through the damp corridor. The heavy clink of the metal key on the metal barrier reverberated through the stone walls, carrying the weights of a decades' worth of secrets.

The Chain cracked. Not with a scream.Not with an explosion. Just a single, hollow sound, like a rib breaking in a sleeping god’s chest. Like history holding its breath, and exhaling. Seren stood still. Ash curled around her legs like thread from a forgotten loom, stirred by wind that came from nowhere and carried everything. The Chain of Thrones lay shattered at her feet, each link pulsing faintly as if torn between dying and being remembered. Some were red. Others smoked grey. A few whispered names too old for any mortal ear to recognise.

I needed to deal with them, I needed to deal with the ballisters for what they did. I needed to have their head on a silver platter. How dare they!? How dare they!!!? “Urghhhh!” I yelled, Pulling at the chains to break them. If they were normal chains, it would have snapped by now but by the force with which it was resisting, I could easily tell that it was Titanium chain. No amount of Pulling would free me but I had to try. “Boss, Be careful, you'll hurt yourself!” I heard Allistair's Voice.

Gently, I lifted my fingertips to the shadows beneath my eyes, touching it gingerly, caressing the mark of my enslavement as I gazed into one of the many mirrors that adorned the gilded walls of the throne room Enslavement. My teeth ground together at the thought of the word, my fangs threatening to burst forth. Breathe. He can sense weakness. Heavy, hot, and uncomfortable, shame washed over me, settling itself familiarly into my bones. We were once strong, feared. Now we live in fear, we are made to be weak. Me and my werewolf brethren, gods turned to slaves. Burning, the air filled my lungs, each breath both a gift and curse. Breaking the silence, the sound of a lively fire filled the larg