Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 96: Breath

Narinder felt emotions rising within him, tears about to flow from the weight of what he had done. But his nature as a leader sustained him; he was not going to show himself vulnerable to his cult. Raising his hands, he said firmly, "It is time to celebrate!"

With a snap, he made a large bonfire appear in the center. The flames rose into the sky, tinged with warm, reddish hues that illuminated the faces of the cultists. Without another word, everyone began to dance around the fire, their voices filled with joy and gratitude. Chants rose into the air, echoing liberation and renewal. It was a celebration of victory over the Old Faith, the closing of an era.

Some headed to the tavern, where mugs of beer and wine were passed from hand to hand, and laughter echoed like music in the night. Others began a feast, sharing the fruits of their harvests and freshly prepared meats. For them, this was a sacred day, the end of a cycle, and the hope of a renewed tomorrow.

Narinder, however, still felt the weight on his chest. From the depths of his thoughts, his gaze fell on the scarf that Shamura had begun to weave. It was a simple piece of silk, something that his brother, in the midst of his delirium, had woven with no other purpose than to keep his hands busy. Aware of what it represented, Narinder held it in his hands, feeling the softness of each thread. An act of care, a silent display of brotherly love... and at the same time, a burden of memories and emotions.

With a solemn gesture, he approached the fire and, without taking his eyes off the scarf, threw it into the flames. Watching it burn, he felt as if his own feelings were enveloped in the heat, denied, transformed into smoke and ashes. It was a symbolic act, a way to bury the vestiges of his pain and guilt, to reject the emotions that still anchored him to the past.

As the flames devoured the scarf, he felt a mixture of sadness and relief. He knew that this fire would not completely burn away what he felt, but in that instant, the leader inside him needed to let go, and the fire allowed him to do so. For a few seconds, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting the echo of laughter and chanting fill his being.

Narinder walked through the cult and lay down in the cool shade of a tree, feeling the gentle breeze caress his skin. The afternoon glowed with a unique warmth, a peace he could not remember feeling in years. He pulled out his claw, silently observing the chains that adorned it. A thick black chain represented the prison he had been in, while four smaller chains, each a different color, were the marks of his brothers: the bishops now sealed in the veil.

Remembering all the effort, the vengeance, the sacrifices, Narinder felt a deep emptiness. The mission that had kept his spirit alive was now accomplished... and yet the satisfaction he had hoped to find did not fill the space in his chest.

He sighed and put his claw away, his eyes fixed on the leaves dancing in the afternoon light. He remembered the moment he was freed, the instant he felt life filling him again, free of the chains that had imprisoned him for so long. This was a luxury he should treasure; his freedom, now unburdened by fear.

He stretched out on the grass, closing his eyes, letting himself be absorbed by the sensations of the world around him. He felt the softness of the ground, the rustling of the leaves under his weight, the distant song of the birds. That moment was a gift, and he knew he needed to appreciate every second of his freedom, to savor it in its entirety.

He thought of the mystic, of the test he still had to overcome, but he felt that now was not the time. Not today, when he could finally enjoy life in peace, even if only for a moment. The desire to live without haste, to feel without hurry, filled him, and so he allowed himself to be carried away by tranquility, enveloped in a moment of complete and pure freedom.

Narinder, without knowing exactly when, had succumbed to exhaustion and fallen asleep under the shade of the great tree. His dream was brief but intense, as if a fragment of his past had returned to him from the depths of his memory.