Chapter 30: The Chains of Memory
Night draped the city in silence, yet sleep refused to touch Le Wai. He stood on the balcony of the inn where he and Mei Lin had taken refuge, staring at the moon's pale glow.
Every word the cloaked figure had spoken gnawed at him. Your past is the key…
He closed his eyes. And the memories came.
The screams of a burning city. The clash of steel in the streets. Faces he swore to protect—faces that turned to ash when he failed to reach them in time.
But the sharpest wound came not from enemies. It came from betrayal.
A friend—no, a brother-in-arms—standing over fallen comrades, blade dripping with their blood.
"You said you would stand with us…" Le Wai's voice in the memory trembled with fury.
The traitor's reply was cold. "Survival means sacrifice. You were too weak to understand."
Le Wai's hand clenched against the railing, knuckles white. He had buried that memory deep, but now the shadows dragged it back to the surface.
Behind him, Mei Lin's voice was soft but steady. "You're remembering, aren't you?"
Le Wai opened his eyes slowly. "I thought I left it behind. But he was right… the past never truly leaves us."
Mei Lin stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "Then face it. Don't run. If he's using your past against you, the only way forward is to turn that pain into strength."
Before Le Wai could answer, a sudden tremor shook the ground. From the distance, alarm bells rang through the city.
They rushed to the rooftop and saw it: black fire rising from the northern quarter, consuming buildings in unnatural flame. Shadows writhed within the blaze, moving like living things.
Le Wai's jaw tightened. "He's making his move."
Mei Lin drew her blade. "Then we don't have time to hesitate."
As they leapt into the night, the cloaked figure watched from afar, a cruel smile hidden beneath his hood.
"Dance, Le Wai," he whispered to the flames. "Every step you take brings you closer to the truth… and to the chains you cannot escape."
The fire spread, screams echoing through the city. And in the heart of the chaos, something stirred—an ancient power awakened by the enemy's hand.