Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 136: The Black Chain

Narinder walked under a dull blue sky, where the sun burned with an intensity that did not burn, but dyed everything an unreal gold. The horizon seemed to move with him, as if it were a mirage that never ended. The desert was endless, an ocean of dunes that rose and fell like motionless waves. The sand beneath his feet was warm, almost comforting, and the wind that blew did nothing but drag his own loneliness through the air.

He wore light clothes, suitable for that environment, but strangely alien to his usual style. A beige tunic wrapped his body, and his face was half hidden by a white turban that left his eyes exposed. In his hands he carried a strange, ordinary staff. Its surface glowed faintly in green, as if it carried a dormant power. Each step he took resonated in absolute silence, an echo in an empty world.

Although he felt no fear, Narinder knew he was lost. It was a certainty that did not terrify him, but rather filled him with a resigned calm. The desert accepted him and he accepted the desert. After an indeterminate amount of time, he stopped walking and stuck his staff in the sand. He left it there, standing like a beacon in the immensity, a reference point in a place without directions.

Suddenly, he felt the weight of something on his back. Without remembering when he had acquired it, he realized he was carrying a worn cloth backpack. He opened it cautiously and found inside a series of shiny papers, bathed in a faint yellow glow. The letters on them were incomprehensible, scribbles that seemed to change every time he looked at them, but among the papers was a map. Although he could not identify anything in the drawing that matched the landscape around him, he decided to follow it.

He advanced guided by the map, his eyes searching for some reference point that did not exist. When he felt he had walked far enough, he left the papers in the sand, forming a small yellow mound that shone faintly in the sun. It was a marker, a reminder of his time there.

Continuing on, he found a different mound, one that seemed more solid, more defined. He dug into it with his hands, and from within he took out two necklaces: one in the shape of a sun and one in the shape of a moon. The weight of both was light, but their meaning overwhelmed him with an inexplicable nostalgia. He held them for a moment, watching how they reflected the sunlight, and then put them away in his robe before moving on.

The feeling of being lost invaded him again, but this time it did not bother him. He turned to his backpack again, looking for something that could guide him. From among the objects he found, he took out a small doll made of clay and crystals. It shone in a blue hue, and as he held it in his hands, a deep sadness enveloped him. He didn't know where the emotion came from, but his heart was heavy with a melancholy he couldn't ignore. Carefully, he placed the doll in the sand, leaving it as a beacon for his path, and continued walking.

Later, as he tried to search for something else in his backpack, he discovered that it was gone. In its place, he now carried only a silver silk scarf that glowed softly in a purple hue. Narinder held it in his hands, caressing the soft, cool texture of the fabric. The sadness returned, this time stronger, as if something inside him was about to break. He felt tears swirling in his eyes, but none of them fell. Seriously, he carefully folded the scarf and buried it in the sand, marking his path once again.

Without looking back, he continued walking, the horizon stretching out before him like an infinite promise. Although he didn't know where he was going, he was determined to continue. The desert might be eternal, but so was he.

Narinder continued to advance through the desert, the sun motionless in the sky, casting elongated shadows that did not correspond to the movement of his body. It was then, as he gazed out at the rolling dunes, that he felt a growing weight on his limbs. He looked down at his hands and saw thick metal shackles materialize on his wrists, followed by chains that snaked toward the horizon. The same marks extended to his neck, abdomen, and legs, each shackle connected by colored links that gleamed in the sunlight: yellow, blue, purple, green... each emanating a peculiar glow, as if they were alive.