Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 13: Gift in the Veil

Narinder's dream was strange and confusing, like all the dreams he had experienced since being freed. In the vast, unfathomable emptiness of the Veil, he stood, his gaze lost in nothingness. There, where the boundaries between life and death blurred, time itself seemed meaningless. The silence was absolute, so dense it felt like an invisible weight crushing his mind.

Suddenly, something broke the monotony of the Veil. From the shadows and the void, a box appeared, floating towards him. At first, Narinder didn't know what to think. Was it an illusion? A trick of his mind, meant to mock his fatigue? But no, the box was real, tangible. Slowly, it descended until it was right in front of him. With a mix of curiosity and caution, Narinder leaned closer, feeling a pang in his chest as he opened the lid.

Inside, nestled in soft blankets, were two black kittens, small and vulnerable. Their eyes were still closed, and their tiny bodies trembled slightly, as if they had just been born. Each had a blanket embroidered with its name. The first, "Aym." The second, "Baal."

Narinder took a step back, (as much as the chains allowed) bewildered. Where did they come from? he thought, his mind struggling to find a logical explanation. Why are they here? What cruel joke is this? For a moment, terror gripped him. His mind, always sharp and calculating, couldn't process the idea that these tiny creatures were in the Veil, a place meant for souls trapped between life and death.

His thoughts turned dark. Could they be projections? Ghosts of his own madness? But no, the longer he watched them, the more he understood they were real. The little kittens breathed, their bodies emanating a warmth that was almost impossible in that place of shadows and emptiness.

Narinder took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Here, in the Veil, nothing is the same. These creatures, though mortal, seemed to have acquired some of the properties of the Veil. They didn't need to eat or sleep as they would in the material world. Their bodies, though small, began to strengthen rapidly. It seemed that simply being in that space between life and death granted them an advantage over other living beings.

As they grew, Narinder trained them. Not because he needed warriors, but because he didn't know what else to do with them. He taught them to defend themselves, to move with grace and precision, to fight with strength and strategy. Aym and Baal were no longer simple helpless kittens for long. Under Narinder's guidance, their physical abilities developed quickly. They became strong, agile, fast, capable of facing any threat that might arise in the Veil.

But despite their training, Narinder felt a constant discomfort in his chest. What does this mean? he pondered. Why have they appeared here? He, the god of death, who had been sealed and betrayed, didn't know how to deal with them. He had never had to care for others in this way. Narinder had never experienced the feeling of being a father, and the idea felt almost alien to him.

He grew under the tutelage of Shamura, and to a lesser extent, Kallamar, but they were not his parents. They were his older brothers, figures who guided his childhood, but he never felt the bond with them that these little kittens were beginning to form with him. Sometimes, he found himself watching them as they slept, wondering what kind of fate had led them to him.

Not knowing how to express his feelings, Narinder did what he knew best: he imparted knowledge. He spoke to them of ancient rituals, taught them spells that had been buried in time. He shared forgotten secrets that no other mortal creature could know. He showed them how to manipulate the Veil, how to play with the energies that separate life from death.

Aym and Baal listened to him, attentive and curious. Despite their youth, they displayed surprising intelligence. They absorbed everything Narinder taught them, as if they were destined to know those secrets from the beginning.

And as Narinder taught them, little by little, he began to feel something more than mere responsibility. Something that, for him, was unknown. A kind of connection. Is this what mortals feel towards their children? he wondered in the rare moments of silence. Is this what it means to care for someone other than oneself?

Time in the Veil was difficult to measure, but Narinder could feel the passage of days in the evolution of the little ones. Each day, Aym and Baal grew stronger, faster, wiser under his guidance. But despite everything he taught them, Narinder couldn't ignore a persistent question that tormented him in his solitude:

Why are they here? What purpose do they have in my life?

And most importantly: What future awaits them?

Aym and Baal had been exemplary from the first day. There was never a complaint on their lips, never a word of fatigue or boredom. Their eyes always shone with determination, and their agile, strong bodies moved with innate grace. It was as if they were made for this strange place between life and death. And though he would never admit it aloud, Narinder appreciated their company more than he was willing to acknowledge.

In his long existence, few beings had accompanied him without provoking some frustration or anger at some point. However, the twins were different. They never made him angry, never challenged him. In their presence, Narinder felt something akin to peace, a rarity in the dark confinement of the Veil. Their clothes and weapons, crafted in strange and inexplicable ways in that timeless place, were a testament to their creativity and skill. Aym and Baal had learned to create what they needed, a power Narinder didn't fully understand, but he also didn't care to question. That small mystery added to his confinement felt almost pleasant. After all, what was eternity without a bit of uncertainty?

Despite his apparent indifference, Narinder knew he deeply appreciated the twins. Their presences offered him silent comfort, a companionship that, though uninvited, had become indispensable. However, a part of him—the darkest part, the one always willing to sacrifice everything for his own power—still whispered to him that he would trade them without hesitation for his freedom. That thought tormented him in silence, a constant echo in his mind. How many times had he wished that, instead of the twins, he had the chance to escape? He knew the answer, and that truth hurt.

The day the Lamb sacrificed himself to break his chains and return the Red Crown was, without a doubt, the second most euphoric moment of his existence. In that instant, as the chains broke and he felt the power flowing through him once again, Narinder thought of nothing but freedom. The Veil, his prison for so long, finally yielded before him. But if he had been wiser, if he had seen his exit more clearly, perhaps the twins could have accompanied him. Perhaps, if the twins had emerged from the Veil before him, Aym and Baal would have come out with him, would have accompanied his destiny. But now, that possibility faded into the shadows of his dream.

Even while asleep, Narinder felt a profound sadness. The echo of his despair resonated in his heart. Clauneck's cards, his visions of uncertain futures, the chains that could still appear... All of that weighed on his mind even as he rested. In his dream, the memory of Aym and Baal mingled with another image that caused him even more pain: the lifeless little body of the Lamb, also trapped in the Veil. The sacrifice that had freed him was absolute, but it left an indelible mark on his conscience.

The Lamb had been his key, his means of escape, but it had also been something more. Had it been just a vessel? Deep within himself, Narinder knew it had not. There was more to that little creature than he had wanted to admit, more than he could have ever foreseen.

At that moment, the dream began to fade, replaced by a familiar sound. The crowing of a rooster, loud and clear, resonated at the edges of the Veil, pulling Narinder back to reality. It was the rooster of the cult, the one that always awakened everyone at dawn. Slowly, he opened his eyes, but that sadness lingered deep in his heart.