ShadowBound: The Need For Power

Gordon, panting and struggling to remain upright, suddenly became aware of the crushing weight that filled the air. It wasn't just heat—it was pressure, suffocating and oppressive, as if the very atmosphere were collapsing in on him.

Liam's violet eyes blazed brighter, and faint runes shimmered to life along his arms like ancient scripture reawakened.

"I've dwelled in this boy's consciousness long enough to understand how feeble your kind truly is," the entity within Liam spoke, its voice layered and resonant, ancient beyond measure. "You claw for power without reverence. You dare tamper with fate, blind to the cost."

He raised one hand, palm outstretched toward Gordon.

Mystica's eyes went wide. "No… that sigil… that isn't Liam's magic."

A sphere of compressed myst formed at Liam's palm—dense, volatile. Violet and gold lightning spiraled around it like serpents coiling for a final strike. Its very presence threatened to tear the dungeon apart.

"Stop. His body is needed for Dove's resea—" Mystica began to cry out, but something else intervened before her warning could be heeded.

The sigil at Liam's palm flickered, sputtering once—then vanished. A beat later, Liam began to sway. Blood poured from his mouth and dripped from the corners of his eyes like tears.

He dropped to one knee, then collapsed to both. His sword slipped from his hand with a clang, and his breath came in ragged gasps. The radiant violet in his eyes dulled, fading slowly back to their natural crimson hue.

"T-This... vessel is still... too weak... to contain even a fraction of... my power. Too fragile..." the voice murmured, strained, as Liam finally slumped forward and lost consciousness.

Mystica stared, stunned. "He… just passed out?" she whispered, almost not believing what she saw.

While she stood in awe, Gordon's body twitched. His breathing steadied as the dormant healing factor within his Gaia-infused body finally activated. Earlier—during the assault—it hadn't worked. Whatever had been inside Liam had suppressed it entirely. But now, with the presence gone, his regeneration began.

Not that he cared to understand why.

His only thought now was escape.

"I must flee… I can't remain here…"

Turning quickly, he summoned a tremor of earth magic, intent on tearing open a path through the stone.

But something yanked him back.

He looked down.

Chains.

Heavy, glowing chains coiled around his arms, legs, and midsection—anchoring him in place with unrelenting force. A stifling numbness spread from their contact points into his limbs, disrupting his myst flow.

Whipping his head around, he saw her.

Mystica stood still, one arm extended, a dual-colored sigil glowing in front of her—dark violet and deep blue. From it, the chains snaked out, forged from dark magic designed to numb the brain, and laced with lightning that sent jolts of pain coursing through Gordon's core.

"What makes you think you can run?" Mystica said coldly, her eyes like sharpened glass, fixed on his trembling form.

"ACKKK!!" Gordon cried out, writhing against the bindings, trying to muster his monstrous strength. But before he could fully resist, another chain lashed out, wrapping tightly around his thick neck. A fresh wave of shocks tore through his nerves. Numbness overtook his spine.

His vicious green eyes rolled back as their color began to shift—fading, reverting to his natural blue. He slumped as consciousness left him, only kept upright by the chains.

Mystica released the sigil.

The chains vanished, and Gordon's body collapsed with a thunderous thud.

She walked toward him, lips tight, and crouched beside the unconscious hybrid.

With a few swift gestures, she began weaving a restriction spell over his form. Threads of arcane force laced through the air, binding to his limbs and core. A heavy pressure descended, and layers of magic coiled around him like iron serpents. His strength waned, myst dulled, and the very essence of his power was locked away—sealed beneath the weight of the sigils.

Then, without a word, she stood again. Her gaze flicked toward Liam's unconscious body.

"Time to get you out of here," Mystica murmured as she approached Liam's collapsed form. She knelt beside him and gently placed a hand just above his chest, her fingers glowing faintly. "Diagnosdetect," she whispered.

This was a diagnostic spell used by healers to determine what was wrong with their patient, allowing them to decide on the proper course of treatment. At times, this spell could be replaced by a diagnostic orb.

A web of light-blue glyphs spread across Liam's body like a projection, revealing internal readings and myst flow channels. Mystica's eyes scanned the results with precision.

"His muscular system's been pushed past its safe limit," she noted to herself. "Severe overexertion. Micro-tears everywhere. And his heart…" Her gaze narrowed slightly. "It's been pumping at an unsustainable rate—beyond what even an enhanced human body should tolerate. His core isn't damaged, but it's dangerously destabilized."

Her hand shifted slightly, now hovering over his sternum. "Stabilize," she breathed.

A gentle, golden glow radiated from her palm, wrapping around Liam's body in delicate threads of light magic. The spell worked slowly but surely—relaxing strained muscles, regulating his heart rhythm, and restoring his myst flow to equilibrium. After a few seconds, the glow faded, and Liam's breathing became smooth and steady, though he remained unconscious.

Mystica sighed softly. "What exactly are you hiding in your body Liam?"

She rose to her feet, extending her hand. Liam's body lifted from the ground, suspended in the air by a soft field of telekinetic magic.

A circular sigil bloomed behind her, layered in complex lines and shimmering with shifting hues of dark blue and silver. With a wave, the portal opened quickly.

Without another word, Mystica and the unconscious Liam passed through, vanishing from the dungeon's depths.

***

Tempest Palace

Back in the royal palace, deep within the Queen's private chamber, Queen Lucy paced restlessly across the polished marble floor. Her hands were clenched, her expression tight with worry. No matter how many breaths she took, she couldn't still the storm churning in her chest.

The image kept replaying in her mind—Dove had grabbed both her and Liam to escape the dungeon, but just as they were being passing through the portal, Gordon's massive hand had snatched Liam mid-transit and hurled him into the wall. The sound, the force—it haunted her. In that instant, she feared the worst.

"He's… gone," she had whispered to herself more than once since then. But no matter how many times the thought passed through her mind, her heart rejected it. Refused it. Liam couldn't be dead.

And yet—whatever that overwhelming presence had been she felt moments ago—it hadn't felt human. Not even close. The only comparable energy she could think of was Sylvathar himself.

While she paced, Dove sat on one of the ornate couches. Though usually relaxed and unfazed, even she couldn't quite keep her nerves in check. She tapped her foot, fingers laced tightly together.

"Your Majesty," Dove said at last, her voice soft but firm. "I think you should sit. Take a breath."

"Sit?" Lucy stopped and turned to her, tone edged with tension. "Do you understand what we may have just lost? A powerful asset to the kingdom—no, two. Liam is a rare find. There's none like him left. And Mystica… if something happened to her—"

Her voice wasn't a scream, but it rang sharp enough to make Dove flinch slightly despite herself.

"I get it," Dove said, lifting her hands gently. "But trust me—Mystica's not the type to fall easily. And she sure as hell won't let that kid die down there. It's been barely ten minutes. Don't let fear convince you of something you don't know is true."

Lucy stood still, staring out the towering window, eyes fixed on the horizon. Her breathing was fast, shallow. But slowly, with deliberate control, she began to calm herself. Inhale. Exhale. Again. Her eyes closed for a moment.

'You're panicking. You never panic. Trust her.'

Finally, she turned around, her expression composed again.

"You're right," she said softly. "I overreacted. And I yelled at you. That wasn't fair of me. I let my emotions cloud my judgment—and I didn't consider yours." She paused. "I'm sorry, Dove."

Dove blinked in surprise, momentarily stunned. "Y-you don't have to apologize, Your Majesty. Really. I mean, it happens. I'm just glad you're calm now. That kind of composure is… well, it's important. Especially if anything else follows this."

Lucy gave a slight nod. "Thank you."

'Damn,' Dove thought, watching her. 'How does she shift like that? That kind of emotional control…' Her heart fluttered unexpectedly. 'She's incredible.' Her gaze lingered on Lucy's face, admiration deepening. Before she realized it, she found herself quietly biting her lower lip, lost in a brief, wandering fantasy of stolen moments and closeness.

But that fleeting daydream shattered in an instant as a radiant portal opened in the center of the room with a soft hum.

Mystica stepped through, cloaked in faint light, and behind her floated Liam's unconscious body—suspended in a glowing field of telekinetic magic.