Five Clans, One Crowm

Waking in Chains

Oscar woke to the taste of blood and the sound of his own heartbeat.

His head throbbed like someone had driven a nail through his skull. The world came back in fragments—cold stone beneath his cheek, the smell of damp and old iron, a faint light flickering somewhere beyond his closed eyelids. He tried to move. His hands wouldn't obey.

Chains. Cold iron around his wrists, his ankles, his throat.

He forced his eyes open. The room swam, then slowly focused. He was in a cell—narrow, dark, with walls of rough-hewn stone that wept moisture. A single torch burned in a bracket outside the bars, casting dancing shadows across the floor. The air was thick with the smell of mildew and something else. Something old and rotting.

"Kelvin?" Oscar's voice came out as a rasp. "Ivanna?"

A groan answered from somewhere to his left. He turned his head, the chain around his neck scraping against the stone. Kelvin lay crumpled against the far wall, his face a mask of dried blood and fresh bruises. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. Alive. Barely.

Ivanna was not in the cell.

Oscar's heart seized. He scanned the small space again, panic rising. She wasn't there. They'd taken her. The Bleached Maw had wanted her alive, and now she was gone.

"No," Oscar breathed. "No, no, no."

He pulled against the chains, ignoring the pain as the iron bit into his wrists. The chains held firm, bolted to the wall with heavy brackets that didn't budge. He threw his weight against them, again and again, until his shoulders screamed and blood ran down his forearms.

"Oscar." Kelvin's voice was weak, barely audible. "Stop. You'll tear your arms off."

"They took her." Oscar's voice cracked. "They took Ivanna."

"I know." Kelvin pushed himself up, wincing. "I saw them drag her out. She was fighting. Killed two of them before they put a bag over her head."

Oscar closed his eyes. The image burned behind his lids—Ivanna struggling, blades flashing, then darkness swallowing her whole. He'd failed. He'd promised to keep her safe, and now she was in the hands of the monsters who'd murdered her mother.

"We have to get out of here," Oscar said. "Now."

"Agreed. But how?" Kelvin gestured at their chains. "These aren't coming off without a key. And I don't think our captors are feeling generous."

Oscar forced himself to think past the panic. The cell was old, the stone worn smooth in places. The chains were heavy but not new. Rust flaked from the links where they met the wall. If he could find a weak point—

The sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor beyond the bars.

Oscar went still. The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by the soft jingle of keys and the murmur of voices. Two people, maybe three. Coming toward the cell.

He exchanged a glance with Kelvin. Both of them shifted, preparing for whatever came next.

A figure appeared outside the bars. Young, no older than Oscar, with silver hair and cold green eyes. The same young man who'd ambushed them outside the warehouse. He wore the gray cloak of a pit master, the Viperfang insignia gleaming on his collar.

"Good," the young man said. "You're awake."

Oscar's blood ran hot. "Who are you?"

The young man smiled. It was a thin, humorless expression, like a blade sliding from its sheath. "My name is Prazeus. I work for Lord Kane. And you, Oscar of the Ashen Ring, have caused a great deal of trouble."

"Kane." Oscar's jaw tightened. "He set us up. The safe house, the Bleached Maw—it was all a trap."

"Not a trap. A test." Prazeus leaned against the bars, his eyes studying Oscar with cold curiosity. "Lord Kane wanted to see how far you'd go. Whether you'd break under pressure. Whether you'd abandon your companions or die trying to save them."

"And what did he learn?"

Prazeus's smile widened. "That you're predictable. Loyal to a fault. And far more useful than he'd hoped." He paused. "But you're also reckless. Storming a Bleached Maw safe house with only three fighters? That was suicide. If I hadn't intervened, you'd all be dead."

Oscar's mind raced. Prazeus had been there. Outside the warehouse. The darkness had swallowed them before they could fight back. He'd thought it was the Bleached Maw, but it had been Kane's man all along.

"Where's Ivanna?" Oscar demanded.

"Safe. For now." Prazeus pushed off the bars and began to pace. "Lord Kane has her in a private chamber. She's being... questioned."

The word hung in the air, heavy with menace. Oscar pulled against his chains, the iron creaking. "If he hurts her—"

"He won't. Not yet." Prazeus stopped pacing, turning to face Oscar directly. "Lord Kane needs her alive. Her blood is the key to the Iron Crown. You know this. But what you don't know is that the Bleached Maw is moving faster than we anticipated. They've already found the second key."

The words hit Oscar like a punch to the gut. "The second key?"

"A location. A temple buried beneath the old city. It's guarded by ancient wards that can only be broken with the old blood." Prazeus's eyes gleamed. "That's why they want Ivanna. Not just for the Crown itself, but to open the path to it."

Oscar's mind reeled. The Bleached Maw was ahead of them. They'd already found the second key, and now they had a clear path to the Crown. If they got their hands on Ivanna's blood, nothing would stop them.

"Why are you telling me this?" Oscar asked.

Prazeus stepped closer to the bars, his voice dropping. "Because Lord Kane wants to propose an alliance. Not the one-sided arrangement you had before. A true partnership. You help us get to the Crown before the Bleached Maw, and in return, Kane will give you what you've always wanted."

Oscar's throat tightened. "Veyne."

"Among other things." Prazeus smiled. "Kane can offer you protection, resources, and the chance to avenge your brother. But he needs your cooperation. And more importantly, he needs Ivanna's trust. She doesn't trust anyone—especially not noble-born men like Kane."

"You want me to convince her to work with Kane."

"We want you to convince her to work with us." Prazeus corrected. "There's a difference. Kane has no interest in using her blood against her will. He wants to stop the Bleached Maw. That's the priority."

Oscar didn't believe that for a second. Kane was a viper, cold and calculating. He'd use Ivanna just like everyone else. The only question was what he'd do once he had what he wanted.

"What if I refuse?" Oscar asked.

Prazeus sighed, a sound of genuine disappointment. "Then Lord Kane will have no choice but to hand you over to the Bleached Maw. They're very eager to meet the brother of Kael. I've heard they have questions about the Ashen Rebirth Style. About what your brother taught you before he died."

Oscar's blood went cold. The Bleached Maw had already shown what they did to people with information. He'd seen the scholar's body, carved open with Kael's sigil. If they got their hands on him, he'd wish for death long before it came.

"You're a monster," Oscar said quietly.

"I'm a survivor." Prazeus shrugged. "Same as you. The only difference is I've already made my choice. Lord Kane is the winning side. The question is whether you'll be smart enough to join us."

He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. At the edge of the torchlight, he paused.

"Think about it," he called back. "But don't think too long. The Bleached Maw won't wait. And neither will Lord Kane."

The footsteps faded. Silence returned, broken only by the drip of water and the distant skitter of rats.

Oscar slumped against the wall, the chains rattling. His mind churned with everything Prazeus had said. A second key. A buried temple. Kane's offer. And Ivanna, somewhere in this building, being held by men who saw her as nothing more than a vessel for her blood.

"We have to get her out," Oscar said.

Kelvin nodded, though his eyes were heavy with exhaustion. "Agreed. But we're chained to a wall in Kane's stronghold. Unless you've got a hidden talent for picking locks, we're not going anywhere."

Oscar looked at the chains, then at the cell around them. The walls were old, the mortar crumbling in places. The floor was packed earth, worn smooth by decades of prisoners. He pressed his palm against the stone, feeling for weaknesses.

"Kael taught me something once," Oscar said slowly. "A technique for breaking restraints. It's dangerous—it drains your life force—but it might be enough to—"

"Stop." Kelvin's voice was sharp. "I know what you're thinking. The Ashen Rebirth Style. But you've already used it too much today. Another use could kill you."

"It's a risk I'll take."

"It's a risk you don't have to take." Kelvin shifted, his chains clanking. "Look, I've been watching the guard rotations. The one outside our cell changes every hour. The next shift should be soon. If we can distract him, maybe we can—"

A door slammed somewhere in the distance. Voices rose, sharp with alarm.

Then came the screaming.

It was a man's scream, raw and terrified, cut off mid-wail. The sound echoed through the dungeon like a curse. Then another. Another. The guards were dying.

Oscar's heart pounded. "The Bleached Maw. They're here."

"How? How did they find us?"

Oscar's mind flashed to the traitor Connor had mentioned. Someone inside Kane's organization was feeding information to the enemy. And now the enemy was here, inside the stronghold, killing everything in their path.

The screams grew closer. The torch outside their cell guttered, as if caught by a sudden wind. Shadows moved in the corridor—fast, silent, deadly.

Then the torch went out.

Darkness closed in, absolute and suffocating. Oscar strained against his chains, his muscles screaming. Beside him, Kelvin's breathing quickened with fear.

A figure appeared outside the bars. Bone-white mask, blood-splattered robes, a curved blade glinting in the faint light from somewhere down the corridor. The figure tilted its head, studying them through the darkness.

"Little brother of Kael," it said, and Oscar recognized the voice from the archive. The same soft, terrible tone. "We found you. Just as the traitor promised."

The figure reached for the lock.

And Oscar realized with sickening certainty that their real enemy wasn't Kane or the Bleached Maw.

It was someone far closer than either of them suspected.