Chapter 5: The Chains She Chose
The world burned under Ymir Fritz's shadow.
Ember watched from above the sky as her monstrous form—colossal and unyielding—tore through the ranks of Marleyan warriors like a force of nature. Eldian banners fluttered in the wind as soldiers marched behind her, their weapons crude and unnecessary. Ymir alone was the vanguard, the storm, the executioner.
The battle had ended before it even began.
She moved with terrifying grace, her Titan's massive limbs shattering the ground beneath her. With a single motion, she sent enemy formations scattering like leaves in a hurricane. Spears snapped against her hardened flesh. Arrows barely found purchase before being consumed by the raw heat of her shifting body.
Marley's warriors screamed as their last lines of defense fell. Ember had seen this before—panic, desperation, the futile defiance of the doomed. He hovered unseen above the battlefield, his form slipping between the clouds, watching.
There was no elegance in this slaughter. No strategy. No struggle. Only inevitability.
As the last of the Marleyan forces crumbled, Ymir's Titan stood alone, towering over the blood-soaked field. The Eldian warriors cheered, chanting her name with reverence. Their god. Their weapon.
And she looked… pleased.
Not proud, not triumphant—just content. Like a dog basking in its master's approval.
Ember said to Oris telepathically, who had been watching silently in the realm of the Paths. "She never even hesitated," he muttered, his voice carrying across the battlefield like a whisper on the wind.
"She was never meant to." Oris's voice was calm, steady as the earth beneath them.
Ember frowned. "I thought she wanted freedom. I thought she wanted change." His gaze flickered back to Ymir, now kneeling before the Eldian king. Her towering form melted away in a flash of steam, revealing the small, fragile girl on its nape. She bowed her head, waiting for his words.
King Fritz approached, draped in furs, his expression unreadable. He placed a hand beneath Ymir's chin, lifting her gaze to meet his.
"You have done well, Ymir." His voice was indulgent, almost warm. "You will be rewarded by carying my offsprings ."
Ymir's eyes widened slightly before she lowered her head again, pressing her forehead to the dirt.
Ember's form flickered with unease. He had seen this before—not in warriors or kings, but in desperate creatures starving for scraps of kindness.
"This is what she fought for?" he asked, his voice low but tense. "A pat on the head? To be bred like livestock?"
Oris exhaled softly. "It is what she believes she must do."
Ember turned away from the scene below. He had watched her wield unfathomable power, reshape battlefields, erase entire legacies in moments—and yet, at the end of it all, she returned to kneel at the feet of the one who had shackled her.
"She could crush him," Ember said. "She could take everything from him."
"But she won't," Oris answered.
Ember's form pulsed with frustration. "Why?"
Oris did not answer immediately. They watched as Ymir was led away, her fate already decided. The Eldian king's council whispered among themselves, discussing the children she would bear. The future she would secure—for them.
Ember could see the metaphysical chains their wrapping around Ymir. He had seen chains before. They did not always come in iron.
"I could stop this," he said. It was not a question.
"You could," Oris agreed.
Silence stretched between them. Ember waited for her to say more. To tell him that they must intervene. That they must act. That this was not the way things were meant to be.
But Oris only watched, her gaze heavy with something ancient and knowing.
At last, she spoke. "Let her write her own destiny."
Ember clenched his fists. His form flickered, shifting, uncertain. He had thought he understood power. He had thought he understood fate. But as he looked down at Ymir—at the girl who held the strength to move mountains, yet chose to bow instead—he realized he understood nothing at all.
And that unsettled him more than anything.
[END OF CHAPTER]