The Chain Book Review Novels & Stories

Such was the indomitable might of the Firmament Chain, that whatever the giant skeletal hand had robbed from Chu Xun, it was being drawn back in full. The monster inside the cave let loose a series of angry, guttural howls. Forged by the very laws of Nature, the Firmament Chain had been consuming Chu Xun's True Energy while keeping him in check, and the gigantic skeletal hand's draining away of Chu Xun's life had angered it. The Chain pulsed with another blinding glow, then it withdrew quickly. Crack! An ear-splitting clap of bones cracking resounded and the skeletal hand began splitting. "What devilry is this, you puny ant! Take it away! Take it away now or I'll smash you to bits!"

They sang. Every corner of the realm shimmered with rebirth. Emily was not just a queen. She was a revolution wearing a crown. They brought Dama with them, holding his little hands in theirs as he toddled between them. The boy was growing quickly — bright-eyed and curious, asking questions about everything he saw. “Why do we burn the chains, Mama?” he asked one morning, his voice high and clear. Emily knelt down and brushed a lock of hair from his face. “Because chains should never touch the skin of the innocent. We burn them so they can never hurt anyone again.”

I murmured, wiping it clean with a tissue. The book was bound in black leather, its cover adorned with a golden chain that resembled shackles. It exuded an air of mystery and darkness. Curiosity piqued, I traced my fingers along the intricate chains. Swallowing hard, I attempted to read the title, but the words were unfamiliar. Flipping it open, I was met with pages filled with an unrecognizable language. I tried to decipher it, even searching online for clues, but nothing matched. As I flipped through the pages, my attention was drawn to a small bookmark tucked inside. Someone had been reading this.

POV: Cain I was not a man who frightened easily. This was not bravado; it was the result of a fairly thorough inventory of the things capable of frightening me and the quiet elimination of most of them over the course of twenty-eight years. The book had frightened me. Not its existence. Not even what it said — the mechanics of the bond, the threshold, the consequence of leaving it incomplete. I'd known pieces of that, the way you know a shape in dark water: the outline but not the detail. The book supplied the detail. The detail was precise and cold and answered questions I had been carefully not asking since the moment I'd felt the bond snap against me like a chain pulled taut.

The compass still rested exactly where she had left it. "The city is talking." "It always does." "You posted about the coffee." "You made me coffee." For the first time that week, the restraint slipped. A genuine smile appeared. Small but unmistakable. He sat down and turned the book over in his hands. "First edition." "Nineteen sixty two. The chapter on supply chains still holds up." "You really read it." "I notice things." Silence settled comfortably between them. Then he looked up. "Monday." "Monday."

“You will stay here with me, daughter! If I have to bind you both forever, then so be it!” Camela gasped for breath as the chain pressed against her neck painfully. “I…will…not…obey!” she shouted through pain. Her father growled loudly, shaking the chamber with his rage. “Then you will break!” The chains pulled even harder, causing the ground beneath them to tremble violently. The maid reappeared, standing in the shadows near the desk. Her soft voice sliced through the noise around them: “Camela. The book holds power because it is written with your blood. Tear the book, and the chains will break. But be warned…if you do that, you'll also tear a part of yourself. Are you ready for that?”

I drove like someone who needed the time to think before doing something irreversible. The image of the chain intruded again, uninvited. What Lyssandra didnt know, and what I couldn’t bring myself to tell her was that I recognized that chain the moment I saw it. I didn't just recognize it, I could almost feel it. My wrists remembered the weight. My shoulders remembered the pull. The way the links bit into skin when I shifted too much, when panic took over and I forgot that struggling only made it worse. My father had liked chains. He always said rope was too forgiving, cuffs too impersonal. The chains were honest, because they told you exactly how trapped you were.

Chapter nine Laura pov “I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’ll hear you screaming my name, Jett.” His thumb dragged across my lower lip, slow and rough. His wet mouth brushed my ear, my voice low and shaking. “I’m begging you… please.” He pulled back, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping. His eyes were black with fury and something even worse need. For a second, I thought he might lose it completely. Then, like a switch flipped, he reached up and unlocked the chains around my wrists.

And every chain breaks. To be continued…

But I'd watched humans for hours now – their efficiency, their adaptability, their refusal to accept impossibility. The first Chain Keeper went down to surprise. They'd expected cowering prey, not calculated resistance. The second fell to Eleanor's thrown books – apparently, first editions of grimoires had their own power. The third... The third stopped mid-attack, staring at me. "You're powerless. Why fight?" "Because I choose to," I replied, understanding flooding through me. "That's what humans do. They choose without fate, fight without power, change without magic." The Chain Keeper laughed. "And die without immortality."