BROKEN CHAINS | CHAPTER 1 | PART 1
Chapter 1: Claustrophobia
In the corridors between walls inside the City of the Great Immortal Bastion, the statue of a martyr, sacrificed long time ago to kill Jarvan I, stands rebuilt. Soldiers, children, vendors passed by it every day, in front of that petrified face several meters long, elevated above the misery villas below. The boots over the stone path do not stop on their way, except for a pair. A young soldier wearing a hood over his light armor to shield himself from the soft drizzle that dampens his clothes.
That young man, who loves the great tales of Noxus, knows that the image of the martyr has been sullied. Beneath that statue lies hidden in the dungeon a monster that once was human.
Upon his death, dark magic called necromancy was used to revive him, with the pieces they managed to recover and others new. His skin bears the marks of his wars, on his jaw he wears the iron crown of the king he executed, and in his abdomen, a furnace of souls that keeps him alive. His eyes glow with a pinkish red, like the furnace he carries.
But this temperamental creature, rejected even by his own people for his appearance, remains locked away until the arrival of the next battle, where he spends his days alone, trying to remember who he once was.
Sion sat in the darkness of the dungeon, surrounded by chains and shackles that were no longer needed to contain him. His mind was his greatest prison, filled with fragmented memories and torturous thoughts. He slept surrounded by murmurs of unrecognizable people, only awakened by the continuous hunger that tormented him. He heard the crackling of the flames that kept him alive in the furnace in his abdomen. The reddish flames illuminated his face, highlighting the battle scars on his skin and the iron crown that decoyed his jaw.
Sion tried to remember his life before death and resurrection, but he only found shadows of memories that quickly faded. The solitude and rejection of his people had plunged him into deep melancholy. He questioned his own existence and purpose, wondering why he had been revived only to be locked away and forgotten.
That hooded human used to look at the enormous statue that loomed over the dungeon where Sion was, in memory of his human appearance. Something in him reminded him of a part of himself. But it would be impossible to see him in person, until that day. One day, the possibility arose; a guard with a big sack entered through a secret passage. He followed his steps stealthily, sinking deeper, where not even Sion's roars of frustration would filter through.
Suddenly, the distant sounds of life in the bastion approached, and Sion heard footsteps stopping in front of the dungeon door. The light of a torch filtered beneath the door, and Sion squinted, waiting to see who or what had come to interrupt his solitary vigil. The door opened slowly, and a figure outlined in the threshold, illuminated by the dim light of the torch.
The door of the dungeon room where Sion was, opened just for a moment to let the food bag fall to the ground.
— You’re lucky, 'martyr,' — he said with laughter. — This time they decided to feed you.—
The guard's words seemed empty, generating no greater reaction in him except to look hungrily at the bag inside his dungeon. The doors closed again, and after a few moments, he began to hear some moans.
— No, no, it's a misunderstanding! — he recognized a soft voice.
Sion only recognized a few words, but he paid no attention, still drowsy. Someone had slipped into the place. Suddenly, the doors opened again, and he saw a hooded person thrown onto the bag at his mercy.
— Here, here’s your dessert, — said the guard with laughter but annoyance, lifting a weight off his shoulders.
The echo made his voice rumble as the door closed completely, and several gears slid, and the footsteps slowly receded. Only that young man and Sion remained, locked in the dungeon.
The hooded young man slowly got up, looking around cautiously. The darkness of the dungeon was almost suffocating, only interrupted by the reddish glow of the furnace of souls in Sion's abdomen. The air was heavy with the smell of dampness and decomposition from the bones strewn on the ground.
Sion slowly opened his eyes, looking at the young man with a mix of confusion and disinterest. His gaze was empty, as if he were looking through the young man. Then, his attention shifted to the food bag on the ground. Sion moved slowly, stretching his broken chains and shackles, and crawled towards the food bag.
Sion crawled towards the food bag, his body was moving with painful slowness. The broken chains and shackles surrounding him jingled softly with each movement, and the furnace of souls in his abdomen crackled with a low and constant flame. The iron crown on his jaw seemed to shine with a sinister light in the dimness.
The young man moved aside to avoid getting in the way of the colossus towards his food. For a moment, they looked at each other. Then, the hooded one sat on the ground next to the food bag, and upon looking at it, he found cartilage, bones of an unknown origin, of different dimensions. The young man swallowed hard and sighed.
Sion, still drowsy, almost did not seem to have noticed the presence of the young man. The hooded figure approached him, curiously observing the hunched shape. The iron crown on Sion's jaw seemed to shine with a sinister light, and the battle scars on his skin told stories of a past life.
As he ate, Sion did not lift his gaze to the young man, focusing his attention on the food he devoured with a ravenous appetite. Darkness seemed to envelop him, as if he were being consumed by the very shadow.
The young man found himself trapped with someone always wanted to see, yet at the same time, perplexed. Slowly, he pulled back his hood as he saw Sion move. He looked around at the abandoned place where the legend that was Sion had remained. Despite being the freshest thing on the "menu," Sion chose to ignore his presence. The human looked at the glow of the reddish light and the blocked door, pondering what he would do in the brief time he seemed to be safe.
The reddish light of the soul furnace in Sion's abdomen illuminated the young man's face, highlighting his expression of shock. The young man surveyed his surroundings, taking in the state of neglect of the dungeon, the rusty chains, the damp walls, and the solid wooden door that seemed not to have been opened in years.
As Sion ate, the young man slowly stood up. He approached the door, testing its strength, but it was firmly shut. Then, he turned to Sion.
The young man stopped in front of him, gazing at the soul furnace with a mix of fascination and fear. The reddish flame seemed to dance in the darkness. The young man wondered what had led this legend to fall so low and what secret the soul furnace held that kept him alive.
Sion finished eating and leaned against one of the stone walls, his gaze fixed on the void. He heard the reddish flame of his furnace flickering in the darkness, directing his gaze there with an empty expression, as if he were hypnotized by the light.
Then, Sion blinked softly and began to breathe slowly, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm. His body seemed to relax, and for a moment, he appeared to forget his surroundings and sink into a state of semi-consciousness. Suddenly, Sion opened his eyes and looked around the dungeon, as if searching for something. His gaze stopped at the empty food sack and then at the young man, but he did not seem to recognize him.
Seeing what was trapped, the human swallowed hard, gathering the courage to speak to the trapped colossus.
— General Sion— he performed the military salute gently.— It is an honor to meet you; I didn't think you would be awake, I... — He cleared his throat. — I am Alan Unleashed, a young soldier in the service of Noxus. —
Sion looked at the young man with an indifferent expression, not acknowledging the military salute or the title of "General." His gaze was empty, as if he were looking through Alan. Then, his attention shifted to the young man's voice, and Sion seemed to concentrate on the sound of the words.
Sion sat up slowly, his chains and shackles clinking softly. He looked at Alan with a confused expression, as if he were trying to remember something. His voice was deep and raspy, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.
— Noxus... — Sion repeated, as if testing the word in his mouth. — I... don’t remember. — His gaze drifted to the soul furnace in his abdomen, and Sion seemed to lose himself in thought.
— Noxus, sir, don’t you... remember? —
// next part tomorrow! Also you can read the full chapter right now on WATTPAD here!
romaincrisis
amandla
kianamaiart
gracieabrams
