Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 3: **The Betrayal of the Ancient Faith**

Narinder's scream echoed throughout the temple, reverberating off the walls like a lament that would never end. The chains that bound him tightened around his chest, stealing his breath, while the shackles on his wrists held him captive, heavy and filled with magic as old as time itself. Desperate, he looked at his brothers, searching for an explanation, any sign of remorse, but found only cold, determined stares.

—"Leshy!"— Narinder roared, turning to his younger brother, whom he had always protected and played with in his youth, in those times when the world seemed less cruel. Now, Leshy looked at him with contempt, devoid of compassion, tightening the chains that encircled him. The magical chain glowed an unhealthy green as it constricted harder around Narinder's torso, causing him to grunt in pain.

—"How could you do this?"— Narinder spat, gasping as he tried to free himself. —"You, whom I have always defended, I am your older brother. And now... you chain me like a monster!"

Leshy remained silent. His face was stone, but Narinder could see a flicker of doubt in his gaze. Still, the spell continued its course, and Narinder knew there was no turning back.

He then turned to his younger sister, Heket. He bitterly remembered the days they shared desserts, when she offered him sweet smiles and bright laughter. But now, she was merely chanting a dark spell, ancient words that made the chains vibrate tighter around his body. The magic pressed against his chest and arms with increasing pain, making him feel as if he were drowning.

—"You too, Heket?"— Narinder's voice trembled, a mix of anger and pain. —"We were close. Do you remember how you offered me your desserts? How we laughed together? And now... you condemn me."

Heket did not meet his gaze. Her voice continued with the chant, a cold and emotionless melody, and the pressure of the chains intensified further, as if the very air was abandoning him.

Panting and furious, Narinder turned to Kallamar, his older brother. Kallamar, always the coward, who never made decisions for himself, who hid behind the shadows of others. Narinder had lost count of how many times he had defended him, how many times he had saved him from danger. And yet, there he was, motionless, listening to his pleas without daring to look him in the eye. There was no compassion, no challenge. Just the cold indifference of one who had already accepted betrayal.

—"Kallamar?"— Narinder spat his name with hatred. —"Don't you even have the courage to look at me? I protected you your whole life, and now... this?"

Kallamar remained silent, like a statue, his cowardice consuming him once again. There were no words of defense, not even justification.

Finally, Narinder raised his gaze, filled with fury and pain, toward Shamura, the eldest of them all, the leader, whom Narinder respected the most, the one he had always followed with admiration. Shamura had been his teacher, his guide, and had cared for all of them since they were young. Narinder had trusted him blindly, believing he would always lead him down the right path. But now, Shamura was the one who had devised this plan. It was Shamura who betrayed him most deeply.

—"Shamura..."— Narinder whispered, his voice breaking. —"Why? I only wanted to improve our doctrines... I created the art of resurrection, but... I did not do it out of malice. You know I didn't do it out of malice!"

Shamura looked at him in silence, his face unchanging. There was no hatred, no resentment, only a deep sadness that seemed to have solidified in his eyes. But there was no turning back, and Narinder knew it. He didn't understand why, he didn't comprehend why his brothers betrayed him in this way. His mind sought answers, but the pain of the chains and the betrayal weighed too heavily.

Finally, the pain transformed into rage, an uncontrollable fury that surged from the depths of his being. With a roar of anger, Narinder rose against the chains, his claws filled with the power of death he had perfected. The dark magic flowing through his veins exploded with tremendous force, and in one final act of vengeance, he attacked his brothers.

Leshy, the youngest, screamed as Narinder's claw reached his eyes, blinding him forever. Heket fell to her knees as a deep cut opened in her throat, a wound that would never heal. Kallamar, the coward, howled in pain as his ears were ripped off, blood gushing endlessly. And Shamura... Shamura, the eldest, the most respected, suffered a terrible wound to his skull, a wound that would mark him for the rest of his days.

Each injury carried the power of death, ensuring that none of them could ever heal. They would bleed for eternity, always remembering what they had done.

—"Cursed be you!"— roared Narinder as the chains finally dragged him back into the Veil, pulling him into the abyss. His screams of rage and despair filled the air until the portal snapped shut, sealing him forever.

Narinder opened his eyes in the Veil, an empty and silent place, where there was nothing but white clouds enveloping him. He was alone, chained, the weight of the chains unbearable. He could hardly move, and the pain he felt was excruciating. His wrists burned, his chest throbbed with agony. And in his mind, there was only one thought, one purpose that would keep him alive for a thousand years:

Vengeance.

The flashback faded, and Narinder returned to the present, his three eyes gazing at the bright sky of the world of the living. He still felt the scars of his imprisonment, the phantom pain in his wrists where the shackles had been.

He looked toward the meadow where the gates were and saw something he hadn't expected: a statue carved from stone depicting his crown. He approached cautiously, his eyes tracing every detail of the sculpture. The base bore an inscription that read: "Here, divine blood was spilled."

The phantom pain in his wrists intensified as he read those words, reminding him of the chains that had held him prisoner. Though he no longer wore shackles, the scars of his past remained fresh in his memory. With a deep sigh, Narinder leaned toward the statue and, after a moment of reflection, began to dig something out of the ground.

It was then that he found it: his claw. The very claw he had used on the day of his sealing. Now, transformed into a relic, it shimmered with a latent power that still held a piece of its dark essence.

Narinder held it in his hands, observing it with a mix of nostalgia and determination. He knew this was not the end of his story; it was just the beginning of something much more ominous. With his claw in hand, he felt that the time for vengeance was approaching.

Narinder held his claw in his hand, examining every detail. The dark metal of the chain covering the claw gleamed in the light, charged with the same power he had felt on the day he was sealed. As he touched it, a voice whispered from his crown, clear yet distant.

"Do no evil."

Narinder frowned, and the voice continued:

"Destroy all your enemies instantly... but their power takes time to recharge."

Silence returned. Narinder closed his fist around the claw.