Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 10: Cards in the Woods

Narinder walked slowly through Darkwood, the ancient domain of his brother Leshy. The dense forest seemed to breathe with a life of its own, full of a darkness that was not intimidating but rather welcoming in its wild way. The trees, large and solid, formed an almost impenetrable canopy that barely let sunlight through. Only a few timid rays of light managed to filter between the branches, casting shadows that seemed to shift and change shape with each step Narinder took. The air was heavy with moisture, and the sound of small creatures scurrying through the grass and plants filled the atmosphere.

Around him, thick and tangled vegetation covered the ground, almost as if the forest itself were trying to block his path. The plants, though seemingly harmless, were part of Darkwood's natural trap. Everything here could be dangerous, even the most beautiful things. He remembered well that Leshy had designed his kingdom to be a living labyrinth, an extension of himself, filled with hidden traps and loyal creatures protecting his domain.

As he walked, Narinder couldn't help but feel a mix of nostalgia and a slight ache in his chest. Despite everything that had happened, despite the betrayal and the distance, Leshy was still his brother, the youngest of the four bishops. Here, in this very forest, they had celebrated countless wild festivals in honor of the Old Faith. Leshy, always so chaotic and playful, had been the life of those celebrations. His loud laughter echoed in the darkest corners of Darkwood, while beasts and followers danced and reveled tirelessly. Those times, though distant, still lived in his memory.

"Leshy..." he murmured to himself, feeling a faint pang of longing pierce his heart. Those had been simpler times.

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted when a group of enemies emerged from the trees, quickly surrounding him. They were heretics, deformed and hostile creatures that seemed to have been waiting for the chance to attack any intruder. Narinder, however, showed not a trace of concern. With an elegant and calculated movement, he raised his relic into the air, letting its power flow through him. A reddish glow enveloped his figure, and before the heretics could even approach, they were reduced to mere shadows.

"Too easy," he muttered, almost disappointed by the lack of challenge.

He had activated his relic not out of necessity but out of curiosity. He wanted to feel its power again, to see how it responded after so long without use. The relic, a claw with a white bone and almost no fur, now felt much lighter than before. Narinder could sense the cooldown between attacks kicking in, but the result pleased him. Simply wielding it reminded him of the power of his former glory.

He continued walking aimlessly, lost in thought as he advanced along the dark paths of the forest. As he ventured deeper into Leshy's domain, another group of heretics would occasionally appear, as if the kingdom itself was trying to stop his progress. Each time a new enemy blocked his path, Narinder simply transformed his Red Crown into a gleaming, sharp sickle. With a single fluid movement, he would slice his enemies to pieces.

On one occasion, a group of three large beasts attempted to pounce on him from the shadows. Their red eyes glowed with hatred, and their deformed bodies were covered in spikes and sharp claws. Narinder waited patiently until they were close enough, and at the last second, he swung the sickle with blinding speed. The blade cut through the air, and within seconds, the beasts' bodies fell to the ground, reduced to nothing more than bloody remains.

"Pathetic," he thought, not slowing his steady, confident stride.

As he advanced, creatures continued attacking him sporadically, but all met the same fate. The trees creaked with each swing of his weapon, and the shadows seemed to retreat in his presence. The strength he felt growing within him with each battle reminded him of who he truly was: a god, feared and respected, though trapped for far too long.