The four hooded figures didn't move like men. They glided over the filth of the Sinks, their feet never quite touching the grime. These were the Fate-Binders, the elite enforcers of the Norns. In their hands, the silver needles hummed with a frequency that made Kael's teeth ache.
"Silas, get behind the stone," Kael commanded, his voice dropping into that terrifying, dual-layered rumble.
"Kael, those aren't mana-blades," Silas warned, retreating toward the shadow of the shrine. "Those are Soul-Stitchers. If they nick you, they don't cut your flesh—they sew your spirit to the spot."
The lead Binder didn't offer a parley. He lunged, the silver needle trailing a thread of ethereal light.
Kael tried to conjure the Frost-Axe, but as the needle drew close, the ice shattered before it could even form. The frequency of the silver was designed to disrupt the "flow" of magic.
Clever, Skane's soul snarled. They built a cage for the wind.
"Varg," Kael whispered. "If we can't be a solid wall, we'll be the thing that binds the binders. Mimicry: The Fenris-Chain."
The Shifter didn't form a blade. It exploded from Kael's back in twelve heavy, rattling chains made of dark, frosted iron. Each link was etched with the same jagged runes Skane used to bind the Great Wolves of the North.
The needles struck the chains. Clang.
Instead of shattering, the chains absorbed the silver light. Varg wasn't just a beast; it was a mimic. It began to "record" the frequency of the Binders' weapons.
"Your needles are for cloth," Kael said, his eyes glowing a fierce, glacial blue. "My chains are for gods."
Kael swung his arms in a wide arc. The twelve chains followed his movement, whipping through the narrow alley with bone-shaking force. One Binder tried to weave a defensive "web" of silver thread, but the Fenris-Chains smashed through it, the heavy iron links shattering the ethereal silk.
Kael caught one Binder by the throat with a chain-link and yanked. The figure flew toward him.
With his free hand, Kael punched the Binder squarely in the chest. But it wasn't a normal punch. Varg surged into Kael's fist, forming a Spiked Cestus of Ice.
CRACK.
The Binder's chest plate—made of reinforced spirit-silver—caved in. The figure gasped, a puff of grey mist escaping their hood instead of blood.
"They aren't human," Kael muttered, his brow furrowed. "They're constructs. Hollow shells filled with stolen mana."
"Watch out!" Silas yelled.
The other three Binders had surrounded Kael, their needles glowing with a blinding intensity. They began to move in a synchronized dance, weaving a massive, glowing lattice of silver thread around Kael, trapping him in a Casket of Fate.
Kael felt the world grow heavy. His limbs felt like they were being submerged in cooling lead. The chains of Varg began to droop, the Shifter letting out a pained, digital-sounding shriek.
"The Bone-Breaker is bound," the lead Binder whispered, his voice sounding like a thousand dry leaves. "Your thread ends here, ghost."
Kael fell to one knee. The handsome face of the boy was contorted in pain as the silver threads began to burn into his skin, trying to "stitch" his Viking soul out of his body.
Is this it? Skane's soul thought, a flash of the muddy northern shore returning to his mind. Betrayed by a king, then bound by his witches?
No.
"Varg..." Kael's voice was a guttural rasp. "If they want to stitch my soul... let's give them the WHOLE WEAVE."
Kael didn't fight the threads. He inhaled.
He opened his mana-circuits wide, inviting the silver light in. Varg, acting as a filter, began to consume the Fate-Threads. The Shifter turned from black to a blinding, incandescent silver.
Kael stood up. The "Casket of Fate" didn't break—it was absorbed.
Kael's hair turned completely white, standing up in the static charge of the mana. He raised his hands, and the twelve Fenris-Chains turned into Liquid Silver Lasers.
"My turn to weave," Kael roared.
He lashed out. The silver chains didn't just hit the Binders; they erased them. Each strike tore through the hollow constructs, shattering the mana-cores that gave them life. In seconds, the alley was silent, save for the flickering silver sparks fading into the grime.
Kael stood breathing hard, his body smoking from the sheer intensity of the energy he'd just consumed. The white hair slowly faded back to dark, but his eyes remained a piercing, unnatural blue.
He looked at the three stones of the shrine. They had crumbled into dust.
"They know I'm here now," Kael said, his voice steady despite the trembling in his hands.
"Kael, your arm..." Silas pointed.
Kael's right arm was covered in glowing, silver "stitch" marks that wouldn't fade. They looked like a tattoo of a constellation.
"It's a tracker," Kael realized, a grim smile touching his lips. "They wanted to bind me. Instead, they gave me a compass."
He looked up at the floating palace, the silver plates humming above them.
"The Norns are in the Star-Spire. The highest point in the city."
He turned to Silas, his gaze cold and focused.
"Pack your things, Silas. We aren't hiding in the Sinks anymore. We're going to climb those chains."