The Life After Death

  Chapter 26: Chains of Eden Part 1

  Chains.

  The realization sent a jolt through me, snapping me further from the haze. My wrists were shackled, thick iron cuffs digging into my skin, bolted into the cold, damp wall behind me. My ankles, too, bound by heavy links, restricting my movement to mere inches.

  Panic surged, but I forced myself to swallow it down. I had to think. I had to focus.

  The last thing I remembered—Liora. Her warm touch. Her teasing smirk. The false comfort she had wrapped me in. Then the drink. The bath. The growing haze in my head.

  Did they poison me? They must have.

  A sharp, bitter ache settled in my chest. Liora lied to me.

  Every smirk, every lingering touch, every teasing remark—it had all been an act. A carefully crafted illusion to lull me into trust, to lead me right where she wanted. And I had let her.

  Her words echoed in my mind, soft yet empty—You were my favorite. I am sorry.

  What a stupid thing to say. As if that changed anything. As if it meant something. It didn’t. It was just another lie, another string of meaningless words meant to ease the sting of her betrayal.

  My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my palms as a slow, burning fury took hold. That conniving witch. Both of them.

  Liora, with her false warmth, and Seraphina, with her sickly-sweet deception. They had toyed with me, used me, and laughed at my obliviousness.

  But through it all, this feeling—this betrayal—it was all too familiar.

  Memories of my previous life clawed at the edges of my mind. How many times had I trusted, only to be cast aside? How many times had I built something, only for it to be ripped away the moment it became inconvenient for someone else?

  I had been a fool before—understanding that loyalty was a lie, honor was a mask, and camaraderie was just a tool waiting to be discarded. I sat atop the underworld, a stone-cold killer, surrounded by liars and traitors masquerading as allies.

  And yet, here I was again, reliving the same mistake. Letting someone get close. Letting myself believe, even for a moment, that she might have cared—only to be dragged into another hell because of it.

  Heat simmered in my veins, hotter than any magic I could summon in my current state. My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding as my breath came in slow, measured inhales.

  I wouldn’t lose control. Not now. Not yet.

  I needed to understand where I was, who else was here, and what they planned to do to me. If I let the anger take over now, I'd be fighting blind, wasting energy I might need later. I had been drugged, weakened. I couldn’t afford reckless rage.

  I need to watch. Listen. Learn. And then, when the moment is right—I will get out of here.

  I tilted my head up, blinking against the dim torchlight flickering along the damp stone walls, laced with a thin layer of metal shards embedded into the surface, as if designed to prevent earth magic users from manipulating the stone.

  The prison stretched around me, carved into the very rock beneath Eden itself. A suffocating, humid air pressed against my skin, the scent of incense laced with something fouler—decay, sweat, despair. The sound of muffled sobs echoed faintly, intermingled with whispers too hushed to make out.

  I turned my head to the left. In the dim torchlight, I noticed a few girls huddled together in the cell opposite mine, their bodies tense, eyes hollow with fear. Most avoided my gaze, their faces downcast, shoulders hunched as if trying to disappear. But one stood out.

  She sat in the adjacent cell, her wrists bound as mine were.

  I couldn’t see clearly in the dim light, but her yellow eyes burned through the darkness, staring at me with an intensity that I had not seen in any child. They almost seemed to glow under the flickering torchlight, sharp and unwavering, filled with something raw—fury, suspicion, maybe even defiance.

  Beyond that, her features remained obscured in the shadows, but the way she carried herself, even in chains, told me one thing—she wasn’t broken. Something about that look told me she wasn’t new to suffering, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to bend to it.

  “Another one,” she muttered, voice thick with disdain. “They’re really picking up strays now.”

  I let out a slow exhale. “Where are we?”

  Her eyes flicked toward the torchlight before locking onto me again. “Beneath Eden. They call it the Sanctum of Purification.” She scoffed. “Sanctum. More like a damn slaughterhouse.”

  I raised an eyebrow. "Slaughterhouse? That sounds a little dramatic. I don't see any butchered cows hanging around."

  She let out a humourless chuckle, shaking her head. "You're the cow, idiot. We all are."

  I frowned. "That’s reassuring. So, what, they fatten us up before the slaughter? Or are we just tossed onto the grill right away?"

  She scoffed, unimpressed by my sarcasm. "They break you first. Some with pleasure, some with pain. They call it ‘purification,’ but it’s just control. The ones who submit become part of Eden, molded into whatever they need. The ones who resist…" She tilted her head toward the corridor where the screams echoed.

  The moment the sound filled the air, the girls in the opposite cell flinched, their already frail bodies curling in on themselves. One of them let out a shaky breath, her fingers gripping the thin fabric of her white tunic as if it were the only thing keeping her together. Another girl turned her head away entirely, refusing to look, her shoulders trembling.

  The yellow eyed girl, however, remained unmoved, her expression unreadable. "You’ll figure it out soon enough," she muttered, as if the screams were nothing more than a passing inconvenience.

  I forced a smirk, even as my gut twisted. "Well, I hate to disappoint, but I’m not much for brainwashing. My head’s already full of voices as it is."

  A soft chuckle came from my right. I turned.

  The boy was slightly smaller than me, his bluish-white hair cut short and softly layered, slightly longer at the crown before tapering neatly toward the sides and back.

  He sat unnervingly still, his back pressed against the cold stone, his breathing measured.

  “Don’t let her scare you,” the boy said, voice smooth, almost lazy. “She’s just mad she’s been here longer than you.”

  “Shut up, Alric. You’ve been here almost as long as I have,” she snapped, her yellow eyes flashing in annoyance.

  Alric chuckled, the sound lighthearted despite their surroundings. His head remained facing forward as he spoke, never quite turning toward me. “And yet, you’re the only one always angry about it.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “So, what do I call the feisty one?”

  She whipped her head toward me, her chains rattling with the movement. “The feisty one has ears, idiot!” she barked.

  Alric let out another quiet laugh. “You’re funny,” tilting his head slightly. “She’s Aria.”

  I smirked despite myself. “Good to know. I’m Emrys.” I glanced between them, my expression sharpening. “Looks like we’re all stuck in this mess together.”

  Curious, I asked both of them. "How long have you two been here?"

  Alric didn’t respond, his expression remaining neutral. Instead, Aria let out a short breath, her chains clinking as she adjusted herself. "Six months for me. Five for him."

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  I frowned. "That long? And they haven’t…?" I trailed off, letting the implication hang.

  Aria’s lips pressed into a thin line. "We’re the new batch. All of us here are younger than seven." Her voice was edged with something bitter, something knowing. "They start slow with us. Give us time to… adjust."

  I narrowed my eyes. "Adjust to what?"

  She exhaled sharply, looking away. "To Eden. To their way."

  Alric finally spoke, his voice soft. "There are others. Older ones."

  Aria nodded. "We’ve never seen them, only heard them. At night, through the walls. Screams, whispers… sometimes, nothing at all. No one talks about them, but we all know."

  Her yellow eyes flicked toward me, cold and certain. "The ones who vanish don’t come back."

  Before I could reply, a metallic creak filled the air.

  The heavy iron doors at the far end of the chamber groaned open.

  Two figures emerged, gliding toward us with eerie grace.

  The first wore nothing but a sheer, black skin-tight wrap that flowed around her body, exposing almost everything. The delicate fabric clung to her curves, shifting like mist with every slow, deliberate step.

  Golden accessories coiled around her arms and legs like a snake, glinting under the dim torchlight as she moved. Her presence was intoxicating—like an alluring whisper at the edge of a dream, promising warmth, comfort, desire. edge

  Another one… she must be like Liora and Seraphina.

  "The Serpent of Serenity,” Aria spat, her body tensing.

  The woman stopped before my cell, golden chains wrapped around her wrists, her expression a mask of sympathy. “Poor thing,” she cooed, tilting her head. “You’ve been cast into darkness, haven’t you? Lost. Alone.” Her voice was silk and poison, sliding through the cracks of my mind like a lullaby.

  I felt it—the pull. A dangerous, mind-numbing allure that begged me to give in. To surrender.

  My fingers twitched.

  Then another set of footsteps. Heavier. Measured.

  She wore a long but split-open white robe, parting in the middle revealing her pale skin with deep, crisscrossing scars that marred her arms, chest, and legs.

  The sides of the robe barely covered half of each breast, the fabric teasing more than concealing. Intricate, silver-threaded embroidery ran along the edges, drawing the eye downward. A sheer veil of translucent fabric, impossibly thin, draped over her lower half, barely hiding her most intimate parts, yet leaving nothing truly unseen.

  It was a mockery of modesty—an intentional blend of exposure and restraint, as if daring those who looked upon her to question whether they were witnessing a priestess or a punishment. Where the Serpent exuded warmth, she radiated something far colder. Her face was serene, but her blue eyes held the feverish glint of a fanatic.

  “The Mother of Purity,” Alric murmured.

  The scarred nun stepped forward, her gaze locking onto mine. “Pain,” she said, her voice devoid of inflection. “Pain cleanses the soul. You are tainted. But do not worry, child.” She smiled—gentle, warm, terrifying. “We will purify you.”

  Then, her gaze shifted away from me, falling onto Aria. "And you," her voice thick with feigned sympathy. "You've been… difficult lately. Not listening. Not accepting the blessings of Eden."

  Aria's chains rattled as she shifted. "Yeah, well, maybe you should take a hint."

  The Mother smiled, undeterred. "That will change. Rejoice, child. Your time has come. Tomorrow, you will be reborn."

  Aria scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Reborn? Into what? Another mindless, half-naked lunatic like you? No thanks." She tilted her head mockingly. "By the way, you ever think about covering yourself up? No one wants to see… that."

  The Mother's expression didn’t falter, but something flickered in her eyes—just for a moment. A crack in her perfect mask. Her lips pursed slightly, her nose scrunching up, as if she had just smelled something foul.

  It was fleeting, but unmistakable—a bratty, annoyed expression that only lasted a heartbeat before she forced her serene smile back into place.

  Her voice was just a little tighter as she finally spoke. "You will see the truth soon enough."

  Then, without another word, she turned, her split robe flowing behind her as she disappeared into the shadows.

  A soft chuckle followed. "My, my, you are quite the fiery one, aren't you?" The Serpent's voice slithered through the air as she took a slow step forward, golden chains glinting with the movement.

  She turned her attention back to me, her lips curling in amusement. "Liora spoke so highly of you."

  My jaw clenched at the mention of her name, but I refused to react.

  "Such a shame," she continued, tilting her head slightly. "I heard she was undergoing punishment for her mistakes. But don't falter, little one—" her green eyes gleamed as she leaned in, her breath warm against my skin, "—she will enjoy it before she perishes. "

  Something inside me snapped. The last remnants of restraint burned away as I yanked against my chains, metal clanking violently as I tried to lurch forward. "I don't care about her," I spat, though the venom in my voice betrayed the truth.

  My jaw tightened at the thought. Did they kill her?

  Or was this just another lie meant to get under my skin?

  For all I knew, she was still suffering somewhere in this hellhole. Even if she was… why did I even care? The answer should have been simple. But it wasn’t.

  The Serpent simply laughed. "Oh, that is good," she purred, running a single finger down my cheek before stepping back. "Because tomorrow, you will be mine. Liora does not get to keep you."

  She turned, her sheer wrap flowing like mist around her as she followed the Mother of Purity into the shadows. "Sweet dreams, little one. You’ll need your strength."

  Screams filled the air.

  Not mine.

  "Who are they?" I muttered, turning to Alric and Aria.

  A voice beside me answered before they could. "Prisoners. Just like us."

  I turned to see a boy, about my age, sitting cross-legged against the cold stone wall. His dark brown hair was unkempt, his skin slightly darker than mine, and his thin frame suggested he hadn't eaten properly in a long time. His dark eyes carried an exhaustion far beyond his years.

  "I'm Ren," he said flatly. "I've been here for two months."

  I frowned. "And those two?" I asked, nodding toward the departing figures of the Mother and the Serpent. "Who are they really?"

  Ren's jaw tightened. "The Mother breaks you. The Serpent makes you enjoy it. That's how it works."

  A heavy silence hung in the air. My stomach churned. "And what happens if you give in?"

  Ren’s jaw tightened. "Then you’re one of them. Or you disappear."

  Another girl, smaller than the rest, shifted slightly. Her pale blonde hair was cropped short, her sharp green eyes flicking toward me. "Don't ask too many questions. It just makes it worse."

  I clenched my teeth, my fingers curling into fists. More kids. More prisoners. And yet, none of us could fight back.

  My thoughts churned, tangled in the chaos of what I had just learned. What exactly is this place? Why would they do this to children? None of it made sense.

  What purpose did it serve? What kind of people—if they could even be called that—took pleasure in breaking the minds of kids? In forcing them to submit, to twist pain and pleasure into something indistinguishable?

  Liora brought me here. Drugged me. Lied to me.

  Every moment we shared, every teasing remark, every warm touch—it had all been fake. A game. A trick to lead me into this hell. And yet… I still couldn’t forget her last words. I am sorry.

  What did that even mean? Did she regret it? Did she care at all?

  I shook my head. It didn’t matter. Regret didn’t erase betrayal.

  Anger burned through my veins, but I forced it down. If I wanted to survive, if I wanted to get out of here, I couldn’t let my emotions cloud my judgment. I had to be patient. To learn and wait for the right moment.

  I met their gazes, voice steady. "Then we find a way out before they get the chance."

  Aria let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, you finally caught up? You think I haven’t already tried?"

  I met her stare, unwavering. "Then you didn’t try hard enough. There’s always a way. Give me time."

  She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Time? You think time is the problem? You think if we just sit around long enough, some grand opportunity will show up? Words don’t mean anything in this place."

  I exhaled sharply. "You don’t have to believe me. Just wait and see."

  She turned away, her expression hard. "I don’t trust words."

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I leaned my head back against the cold stone wall, staring up at the dimly flickering torchlight. I didn’t know how long I sat there.

  Time meant nothing in this place. There was no sun, no moons—only the ever-present glow of candlelight casting long, suffocating shadows. I could’ve been here for hours, or maybe just minutes. It all blurred together in the heavy silence.

  My mind wouldn’t stop. I had to think, had to plan. There had to be a way out of this. But first, I needed to understand what I was up against. I needed to know who was strong enough to fight when the time came.

  Slowly, I reached outward with my senses, searching for the manahearts of the others around me.

  The results were… disappointing. Most of the children barely had any presence at all—weak flickers of mana struggling to manifest. They were all still at the Snow stage, their energy undeveloped and fragile. It made sense. They were just kids, most at their awakening age and none of them had been trained.

  Except for one.

  Aria.

  My brow furrowed as I focused on her. Unlike the others, her manaheart was bright and firm, thrumming steadily at the Dawn stage. That was rare for someone our age.

  How did she get this strong? My mind raced for an answer.

  Most kids didn’t reach the Dawn stage until much later—at least not without proper training. But here she was, her manaheart steady and firm, pulsing with untapped potential.

  Was she trained before? No, that didn’t make sense. She had been here for six months, and from what I could tell, Eden didn’t create warriors—they broke them. So was it sheer survival? Had she forced her mana to grow through resistance alone?

  I smirked slightly, shaking my head. Helena and I might have some competition.

  Then I turned to the boys behind me. And froze.

  Alric.

  I couldn’t sense his manaheart at all.

  It wasn’t weak. It wasn’t dim. It simply wasn’t there. How does he know how to conceal it? My mind wandered curiously.

  The moment I focused on him, Alric’s head lifted, turning directly toward me for the first time. His grey, unfocused eyes locked onto mine, as if he had been waiting for me to notice. My breath hitched slightly.

  Did he just pick up on what I was doing? Did he know I was trying to sense him?

  A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. It wasn’t cocky, nor was it taunting. It was simple. Easy.

  And yet, somehow, it told me everything. He’s strong.

  I exhaled slowly, leaning my head back against the cold stone wall. My wrists sore from pulling at the chains, but none of that mattered right now. My mind was racing, searching for answers, a way out, anything. But nothing came.

  I needed time. Time to figure out the inner workings of this place, how often they came for prisoners, what the schedule was—if there even was one.

  I had to understand the patterns, the weaknesses, before I made a move. Charging blindly into a fight I wasn’t ready for would only get me and the others killed.

  I shifted, lowering myself onto the rough floor, trying to get comfortable—not that comfort existed in a place like this. The only thing that remained constant was the dim, flickering candlelight, the damp air clinging to my skin, and the sound—the awful, ceaseless sound—of screams echoing through the chamber halls.

  My stomach twisted, and I clenched my jaw, forcing my mind to push past the unease. I had to rest. I had to be ready. If I was going to make it through this, I needed strength.

  I closed my eyes, ignoring the agony happening beyond these walls, and forced myself to breathe.