Chereads / The Ashen oath / Chapter 2 - 2: Chains of the Damned

Chapter 2 - 2: Chains of the Damned

Aldric's breath came slow and ragged, mist curling from his lips as he fought against the weight of his own body. He felt… wrong. Too light, too cold, as though his flesh had been sculpted from something that wasn't quite alive.

The stone beneath him pulsed faintly, runes carved deep into its surface glowing with dim violet light. Around them, the chamber stretched into an abyss of darkness, the flickering ghost-flames in their sconces casting long, dancing shadows.

His gaze snapped back to the sorceress. Isolde of Valtoria.

Her name stirred something in the hollow corridors of his mind—whispers of rebellion, of a vanished princess, of a war that had begun long before his betrayal. She had been declared dead five years ago. If that was a lie, then what else had they hidden from him?

Aldric gritted his teeth, testing his bonds, but there were none—at least, none that he could see. And yet he could feel them. Threads of magic curling around his very essence, holding him in place with a force more absolute than steel.

His voice, hoarse and unfamiliar, finally broke the silence. "You… did this to me."

Isolde tilted her head slightly, unfazed by the accusation. "You were already dead, Aldric Ravayne. I simply chose to bring you back."

"For what?" His fists clenched. "To be your puppet?"

"To be my knight."

A bitter laugh escaped him. "I was a knight. Once." He looked down at his hands. They weren't his hands. The scars he had earned in battle were gone. His flesh, once sun-bronzed from years beneath the sky, was now pale as cold ash. A mockery of what he had been.

Something burned in his chest—anger, grief, defiance. It gave him the strength to rise, though his movements were unnatural, too smooth, too effortless. Like he was moving through water, untethered by the weight of mortality.

His gaze met hers, and for the first time, he saw something behind the cold precision of her eyes. Something deeper. Older.

"I don't serve anyone anymore," he said.

Isolde sighed. "Then you misunderstand your situation."

She lifted a single hand, fingers curling.

Pain erupted through his body. Not the sharp agony of steel cutting flesh, but something worse. Like his very soul was being torn apart, like every piece of him was unraveling into nothing. He dropped to one knee, a ragged cry ripping from his throat.

"Enough," she commanded, and the pain ceased.

Aldric gasped, his vision blurring. He forced himself upright, hatred searing through him like wildfire.

Isolde knelt before him, close enough that he could see the shadows dancing along her irises. "The Ashen Oath is not a chain, Aldric. It is a pact. A second life, bound by ancient law. You are no mere specter—I have tied you to me, to this world, because I need you."

"Then unbind me," he growled.

She gave him a small, knowing smile. "If I did, you would crumble into dust before you could take your next breath."

Aldric froze.

"You are no longer of the living, nor fully of the dead," she continued, rising to her feet. "Without me, your soul will fracture. You exist because I will it."

His hands trembled. His soul trembled.

She turned, moving toward the edge of the chamber where an iron door loomed like the mouth of a beast. "Come, Aldric. You can curse me if you like, but we have little time. The kingdom that condemned you is at war, and whether you accept it or not, you will fight again."

Aldric didn't move.

He could still feel the executioner's blade, still remember the last moment before death had taken him. He had been ready to die. Ready to let it end.

And yet here he was.

The ghost of a man who should have been forgotten.

His fists tightened.

If he was truly bound to her… then he would use her.

For now.

With a final breath, he stepped forward, following the sorceress into the dark.