The air in the Temple of Echoes was thick—not just with mist or dust, but with memory.
It clung to the skin like cold oil, seeping into pores, whispering into thoughts. The screams of the fallen had faded, but something far worse had taken their place: silence. Not ordinary quiet, but a void—so profound that even breath felt intrusive. The kind of silence that swallowed voices, names, and souls.
Darion stood at the temple's cracked threshold, blade still wreathed in Wakefire light. Behind him, Seraphina tended to a wounded soldier while Kellen muttered curses under his breath, reloading his crossbow with shaking hands. The third guard, the one who had been dragged inside, was gone. No screams. No trace.
The chained behemoth still loomed ahead—twenty feet tall, skeletal but thrumming with cursed energy. Its crown glowed faintly red. Chains wrapped around its limbs pulsed with prana—but it wasn't like the elemental essence Darion knew. This was older. Twisted. Echo-bound.
"He's not just a guardian," Seraphina said, her voice low. "He's the chain's final prisoner."
Darion took a step forward, and the creature's massive head turned toward him. Its jaw unhinged, creaking like rusted gates.
"FLESHBOUND. CORE-WEARER. YOU TRESPASS IN THE VAULT OF ECHOES."
The voice wasn't heard—it was felt. Vibrating through the bones, sliding into the mind like a dull blade.
"I didn't come to steal," Darion said, stepping into the chamber. "I came to understand. I need the Chain."
The creature laughed, and it was ghastly. A choked, metallic rattling.
"ALL WHO CAME TO 'UNDERSTAND' NOW LIE BENEATH THIS TEMPLE. THE CHAIN BINDS MORE THAN METAL. IT BINDS PURPOSE. MEMORY. REGRET."
Darion felt a cold shiver slide down his spine. He could feel the Core burning hotter now beneath his ribs. The relic inside was resonating, as if the Chain within the temple recognized it—or feared it.
He looked at the back of the chamber. There, atop a raised stone pedestal shaped like an ancient altar, floated a spiraled length of red-black chain, suspended in the air like it was being held by unseen hands. It twisted slowly, each link etched with runes that shimmered between reality and memory.
"That's it," Kellen muttered behind him. "That's the Chain. I can feel it screaming."
"We need a plan," Seraphina said. "We can't just—"
But it was already too late.
With a clang that shook the temple, the guardian's chains snapped outward. Dozens of lengths, each one alive with hunger, whipped through the air. Darion barely ducked as one cracked past his head and smashed into the wall behind him, pulverizing stone.
"Spread out!" Darion shouted.
The fight began in a whirlwind.
Seraphina vanished into shadow, her assassin training kicking in, while Kellen rolled behind a crumbling pillar, bolts flying. Darion ran straight for the Chain, weaving between strikes, every muscle burning with tension.
The guardian moved like a storm trapped in bone—massive fists pounding the floor, sending shockwaves that cracked the ancient tiles. Each swing was enough to crush a man whole, but Darion wasn't a man anymore. Not entirely.
"Come on then," he growled, igniting the Wakefire Core fully.
Flames erupted from his body in a ring of golden-orange light, washing over the cursed stone like a sunrise over ruins. His blade became a comet's tail as he lunged forward, slashing at the chains coiling around the creature's legs.
But the moment his blade touched one—it screamed.
Darion staggered back as visions slammed into him:
Flashes of bloodied kings. Screaming orphans. Ships burning. The world falling into the Abyss.A voice crying out: "Bind me if you must, but remember my name!"A figure, cloaked in darkness, forging the Chain with the souls of the dead…
He gasped, dropping to one knee.
"What the hell is this thing?" he whispered.
"The Chain is cursed," Seraphina shouted from above, leaping down from a broken arch to stab one of the guardian's arms. "It doesn't just bind—it remembers."
The guardian turned, sweeping one massive hand toward her. She backflipped out of reach, but not before one of the chains caught her leg midair and yanked her violently into a column. She crashed with a cry of pain and crumpled.
"Seraphina!" Darion sprinted toward her.
Kellen provided cover fire, bolts thudding into the guardian's joints, slowing it down.
"This thing can't die," Kellen yelled. "We need another way!"
Darion reached Seraphina, blood running from a gash above her eye.
"You okay?"
"Do I look okay?" she hissed, gritting her teeth. "But I'm not dead. Yet."
Darion looked toward the Chain—still suspended, still glowing. The Wakefire Core pulsed beneath his ribs, louder now.
"It wants to be free."
He knew what he had to do.
"Cover me," he said. "I'm going in."
"That thing will kill you before you take two steps," she warned.
"Then it'll have to be faster than me."
Darion stood, eyes locked on the pedestal. The creature roared again, all its chains lashing toward him now—dozens of them, moving like vipers.
But this time, he didn't dodge.
He ran straight through them, Wakefire burning brighter than ever, the Core flaring with inner light. The chains touched his skin—and screamed. The heat, the sheer force of the Core's resonance, burned them back.
"You're not the only one who remembers," Darion growled. "I carry a past too."
He dove for the pedestal.
His hand closed around the Chain of Echoes—and the world broke.
Inside the Chain
Darion wasn't standing in a temple anymore.
He floated in a sea of starlit darkness. Memories flared around him like comets—each one a soul. An emotion. A story. He saw a man sobbing over his dead lover. A child thrown into the ocean. A queen chained to her throne.
A voice spoke:
"You seek power. You seek truth. But truth is pain, and power… is consequence."
Darion turned. A figure stood in the void—a man with silver eyes and a body made of cracks and light.
"Who are you?" Darion asked.
"I was the first to bind the Chain. I was the last to fall."
"Why did you bind it?"
"To hold back the Abyss. To silence the Wailing Tide. But nothing stays silent forever."
Darion looked down. The Chain in his hand pulsed—not with malice, but with sorrow. It was not just a relic. It was a prison. A promise.
"Will you bear it?" the figure asked. "Will you remember all that came before?"
Darion's breath caught.
If I say yes, I carry their voices. Their pain. Their regrets.
If I say no, I lose the key to understanding everything that's happening to me. To the Core. To the Abyss.
"Yes," he said.
The figure nodded once—and vanished.
Return
Darion gasped, collapsing onto the pedestal. The Chain of Echoes now coiled around his arm, glowing faintly. Its runes shimmered—not red, but silver.
The guardian stopped moving.
It slowly sank to its knees, chains retracting into its body, the red glow fading from its skull.
Then, it bowed its head—and crumbled into dust.
The temple went still.
Seraphina limped over, staring at the Chain. "You did it."
Darion looked at the artifact now bound to him. "No. We did it. But this… this is just one piece."
Kellen approached, shaking. "Let's never do that again."
Darion stood, eyes turning toward the mist outside. The Chain pulsed with voices—but they no longer screamed. They whispered, waiting for him to listen.
"We need to leave before the island decides to eat us too," Seraphina said, resting a hand on his shoulder.
Darion nodded.
But deep in his mind, one voice echoed above the rest.
"She is coming. And the sea will drown the world again unless you remember what was lost."