MORTAL CHAINS 🖤🖤

THE CURSE CONTINUES

. I have burned kingdoms for less disrespect than she shows me with that calm stare.

She smells like paper and lavender and something else. Something faint. Mercy. Disgusting. Irene’s stench lingers on all of them.

“Mr. Drazek, what brings you in today?” she asks, like she doesn’t already know.

I could tell her the truth. That I’m cursed. That this fragile body rots and aches and cannot command fire. That I tried to summon Drake until my throat bled and nothing answered. That I am bored out of my mind and these humans are all so breakable it isn’t even fun anymore.

Instead I say, “I feel nothing. Anger, guilt, empathy. I don’t experience those things the way normal people do. I’m simply... practical. People are tools. That’s efficiency, not cruelty.”

Let her choke on that. Let her diagnose me and write her notes and feel clever.

Her pen pauses. Just for a heartbeat. Then she looks up, eyes sharp but kind in a way that makes my skin crawl.

“I see,” she says. “Then we’ll start there. With nothing.”

Nothing. She thinks she can build from nothing. Foolish human.

I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “How long until you realize this is a waste of both our time?”

She smiles. Small. Professional. Infuriating.

“About as long as it takes you to tell me the truth, Mr. Drazek.”

I laugh. Short, humorless. She has no idea what truth is.

The session ends fifty minutes later. I stand first, because kings do not wait to be dismissed. As I reach the door, her voice stops me.

“For what it’s worth,” she says, “numbness is still a feeling, Mr. Drazek. We’ll work with that.”

I don’t turn around. I leave, fuming.

Pathetic human, thinking her words affect me.

Behind me, I hear the scratch of her pen.

Allicia writing notes, frowning.

`That’s not just arrogance. That’s centuries of unprocessed rage. What made him like this?`

*ALLICIA POV*

That night I dream of fire. Not normal fire. A dragon, massive, chained, screaming until the sky cracked. And a woman with silver eyes whispering “Make him feel, child. Or we both burn.”

I wake up sweating at 4:17am. My sheets are damp. For a second I swear I smell ash.

I make coffee. Black. Strong. And I pull Lucian’s file again. Birthplace: Unknown. First business registration: 2008.

`What are you, Mr. Drazek?`

Got it. No more blueprint talk. Straight into the story. Here’s *Chapter 3* picking up right after Allicia wakes up sweating:

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*CHAPTER 3*

*ALLICIA POV*

The dream clings to me like smoke. Fire. Chains. A dragon screaming until the sky cracked. And that woman with silver eyes. “Make him feel, child. Or we both burn.”

I sit up in bed at 4:17am, heart pounding. My sheets are damp. For a second I swear I smell ash.

`It’s just stress. New patient. Overactive imagination.`

I tell myself that three times before my brain lets me breathe normal. But when I grab Lucian Drazek’s file from my bag, my hands are still shaking.

Birthplace: Unknown.

Age: 38. Listed.

First business registration: 2008. Drazek Corp, Delaware.

Before that? Nothing. No school records. No medical history. No childhood photo. A billionaire CEO who appeared at 28 with a billion dollars and zero past.

`What are you, Mr. Drazek?`

I make coffee. Black. Strong. And I fall into a research hole. News articles, corporate filings, old interviews. Every city Drazek Corp opened a new branch, there was a story 6 months later. “Unexplained warehouse fire.” “Industrial accident, no casualties.” “Gas leak, building condemned.”

No deaths. That’s weird. Fires with zero bodies? I pull up satellite maps. The “accidents” always happen in empty buildings. Buildings Drazek Corp bought cheap and abandoned fast.

My phone buzzes. 5:43am. My sister, Naya.

*Naya*: Sis, u up? Can we talk? About Kofi.

Kofi. The fiancé who “prefers not to comment” at dinner. I type back: `Coffee in 20. My office.`

I shower, dress, and get to work early. The office feels colder than usual. The thermostat says 72, but my skin prickles. Like someone’s watching from the corner.

I shake it off. Just the dream.

Naya arrives with puffy eyes and a paper bag of pastries she didn’t eat. She drops into the patient couch and immediately starts talking.

“He proposed last week. Says he wants to keep it small. Just family. But sis, I asked him about his parents and he changed the topic. I asked where he grew up and he said ‘around’. Around? What does that mean?”

I hand her coffee. Keep my therapist voice on. “What do you feel when he dodges?”

“Like he’s hiding something big. But he’s so sweet to me, Allicia. And mom is already planning the color scheme. If I call it off now she’ll never let me live it down.”

I nod. File that away for later. But my mind keeps drifting back to Lucian. Two men. Both avoiding questions. Both showing up in my life 24 hours apart.

`Coincidence? Or is my life just collecting men who lie?`

Naya leaves at 8:30. My 9am patient cancels. I have one hour before Lucian walks through that door for session 2. I use it badly. I google “Drazek Corp fire 2014”. Then “Drazek Corp fire 2019”. Then “Lucian Drazek photograph 2005”.

Zero results. It’s like he was born fully formed in 2008, suit and smirk included.

The door opens at 9:00 sharp. No knock.

Lucian steps in. Same suit. Same cold air. But today there’s a faint smell on him. Something metallic. Like ozone after lightning. Like something burned.

He doesn’t sit. He paces to the window and stares out for a full minute before speaking.

“You dreamed about me last night.” Not a question. A statement.

I freeze, coffee halfway to my mouth. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb, psychologist. I felt it. The tether pulled.” He turns, and for a heartbeat his eyes aren’t black. They’re molten gold, vertical slit like a predator’s. Then it’s gone. Normal eyes. Normal smirk. “Dreams are inefficient. Stick to waking hours.”

My pulse spikes. `Did I say that out loud? No. He couldn’t know.`

“Mr. Drazek, I can assure you I don’t discuss patient dreams. Especially not mine.” I keep my voice steady. Professional. But I set the coffee down. My hand is trembling.

He laughs. Low. “You think this is about you? Please. I’ve been cursed for centuries. Your REM cycle isn’t my biggest problem.”

`Cursed.` He said it like it’s nothing. Like he’s talking about a bad investment.

I grab my pen. Anchor myself. “Then let’s talk about your problems. You mentioned you haven’t slept in 3 days.”

“I don’t sleep. I wait.” He finally sits, but on the edge of the chair. Ready to bolt. “Waiting is all humans do. Waiting to die, waiting to be loved, waiting for permission. I’m tired of waiting.”

“Tired of waiting for what?”

His gaze locks on mine. And for the first time, there’s no smirk. No armor. Just exhaustion. Ancient, crushing exhaustion.

“To feel something other than rage. Even for five minutes.”

The air in the room gets heavier. The lights flicker once. Twice. The framed degree on my wall cracks right down the middle. No sound. Just a thin line splitting the glass.

Lucian doesn’t react. Like it happens all the time.

I don’t either. I write in my notes: _Environmental anomaly at 9:14am. Patient denies awareness. Possible psychosomatic trigger._

But my hand is shaking again.

*LUCIAN POV*

Damn Irene. Damn her mercy.

I slammed my fist into my office desk at 3am because Drake wouldn’t answer. Again. The marble split like paper. My knuckles didn’t even bruise. This body is a joke. Weak. Slow. Cold.

But when I closed my eyes, I saw her. The psychologist. Dreaming of fire and chains. And that cursed goddess whispering in her ear.

She’s tied to me. The curse binds us. Every time she shows mercy, the chains loosen one link. Every time I feel nothing, they tighten.

So I came here to test it. To push. To see if she’ll break and show disgust like all the others. Disgust I can understand. Mercy I cannot.

Instead she looked at the cracked glass and didn’t scream. Didn’t run. She wrote it down. Like it was data.

`Fascinating.`

“Mr. Drazek, do you ever feel heat? Without anger?” she asks, like she didn’t just see the laws of physics bend.

“No,” I lie. Because the truth is, when I’m near her, this rotting body runs warm. Like I’m standing too close to a forge. It’s uncomfortable. It’s human.

She tilts her head. Studies me. “Liar.”

I stand. Session over. I won’t sit here while she dissects me with that calm voice. “You want truth? Here’s truth. I have lived a thousand years. I have killed more people than you have words for pain. And your ‘mirror’ is nothing to me.”

I walk to the door. My hand on the knob.

Behind me, soft: “Then why did you come back, Mr. Drazek?”

I don’t answer. Kings don’t explain themselves.

But as I step into the hallway, the lights above me pop. One by one. Glass raining down. My staff scatter, screaming.

And I feel it. A flicker. Not rage. Not boredom.

Guilt.

Small. Pathetic. Human.

I crush it before it spreads.

*ALLICIA POV*

After he leaves, I sit in the dark with broken glass at my feet and one thought looping: `He’s lying. But not about being cursed.`

My phone buzzes again. Unknown number. Text message:

*Unknown*: Stop digging into Drazek Corp fires, Dr. Mensah. Some truths burn.

I delete it. Block the number. Then I lock my office door and pull up Lucian’s intake form one more time.

Under “emergency contact” he wrote: None.

Under “allergies” he wrote: Mercy.

I close the file. My hands are steady now.

chap