Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 87: Scars on the Wrists

Narinder closed his eyes, and the fatigue of the day dragged him into sleep without resistance. His body, exhausted and vulnerable, sank into rest.

In his dream, he was on top of a hill bathed in light, looking out over a bright green meadow, swaying in the breeze of a perfect day. The sun illuminated every corner of the landscape, transmitting a calm he had not felt in centuries. Without thinking, he began to descend the hill, enjoying the touch of the grass under his feet, as if everything were as simple and peaceful as in times long gone by.

However, upon reaching the plain, a huge shadow covered the ground around him, erasing the warm light that surrounded him. Narinder stopped, perplexed, and looked up. There, at the edge of the hill, was his own figure, but divine: "He Who Waits," his sealed form, gigantic and fearsome. His face was set in a grimace of impassive authority, his long, skeletal arms drooping heavily, and ancient chains, like iron snakes, wrapped around him cruelly. Narinder stepped back, fear lodged in his chest. The echo of those chains resonated in his mind, reminding him of centuries of loneliness, of his own imprisonment.

"The One Who Waits" leaned toward him, looking at him with infinite, dark eyes. His deep voice broke the silence: "What are you going to do with Shamura?"

Narinder took a deep breath, trying to hold his ground. "It's simple. I'll keep him close until he tells me where the relic is."

The huge figure stared at him without blinking, as if seeing through him. "You lie. I know you'd rather have your old brother back, the Shamura of old."

Narinder gulped, his thoughts spiraling, restless. "Is it... bad to miss the old Shamura?"

The One Who Waits frowned, and a relentless coldness marked his words. "Eventually, your memories will return. They will reach the day you were sealed, and Shamura will hate you, like everyone else."

The words struck Narinder's heart. What he was trying to bury now hung over him like a dark cloud. "I... am alone..." His voice cracked, emotions emerging, raw and heartbreaking. "I sealed my own brothers in an act of vengeance, when that vengeance had already been consummated by the Lamb. I never wanted this... I never wanted to face them..." Sadness and frustration welled up in every word, as if he were emptying himself of all the pain accumulated over the centuries.

The figure of "The One Who Waits" watched him silently, unmoved, as if his confessions were irrelevant. But the shadow remained there, impassive, marking the path that he himself had decided to follow, a path that, perhaps, would have no return.

The wind picked up, cold and choppy, as "He Who Waits" stared at him harshly. "They sealed us away out of fear... Fear of our potential to grow and master the eternal," he declared, as the chains tightened, tightening around his skeletal limbs.

Narinder raised his face, facing the being with eyes filled with pain and fury. "They sealed us away because they knew what we were! Life fears death, as mortals fear the end. We are the very embodiment of their deepest terror..." He fell to his knees, as if the full weight of his own guilt and hatred had slid through his body and crushed him into the grass of sleep. His voice, broken, muttered to the earth. "We had the chance to forgive them, to let those old wounds heal, but instead, I turned them into curses. My own hands created those wounds!" Leshy's eyes, Heket's throat, Kallamar's ears, and Shamura's skull, they continued to bleed for a millennium!... I was able to free them from that, I was able to allow them to find peace..."

The One Who Waits gazed at him, his eyes unchanging, infinite. "But a thousand-year grudge does not fade in a few days," he whispered, his voice laced with deep sadness. "We wrote that sealing ritual in anger and vengeance, and even now... we do not have the courage to let go of that burden. We are unable to forgive them... them, or ourselves."