By the Chains that Bind Thee (Part 2) by Fantasy Weaver

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Hi, side note here: technically, part two and part three were supposed to be a singular chapter, but the site didn't like how long the chapter was so...it had to be split. They may be part two and three, but I would like to think of them as a single chapter story-wise. Anyways.

Part two of "By the Chains that Bind Thee". Please read the first part for context. For those who enjoy the aspects of playing with hair, these next two parts may rub you the right way. No cutting. Yet. Patience is a virtue after all. The more it builds up, the better the reward, and I promise to make it spectacular.

Enjoy the next two parts.

-Fantasy Weaver.


Note

1: Some foul language ahead

By the Chains that Bind Thee

Part Two

XXXXX

"Are you ready for your trials?"

Oras always knew exactly what to ask him to make him feel uncomfortable.

Shay sighed, holding his head in his hand, as his eyes stared, unfocused, on his book about divination magic. "I would rather not think about it."

The tension in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by his friend, who frowned at him. "Something really must be wrong with you. Shay!" he cried, gesturing incredulously at him, "You’re always ready for your trials! You practically can’t even talk because you’re so excited! What’s wrong with you. Are you sick?"

"Oras…" Shay rubbed his eyes, sighing long and hard.

What was he supposed to say? That ever since becoming a learned apprentice and watching that initiation ceremony, he just hasn’t been as convinced in his path as he used to be? That perhaps the words from a certain dark stranger seem to be getting to him, despite his best efforts against them?

He certainly could not mention Eleos, not to Oras, or to anyone else. He was still baffled that the man had let him go, worse still, with a disguised invitation to see him again. Was it disguised? He had said it without any double meaning. If he wanted to talk, he knew where to find him.

What would they speak of? Eleos had challenged him multiple times, asked him if he even knew about Dark Mages, truly, knew of them; not what the Order had taught them, but in truth. Was it truth? Eleos could very well be lying to get into his head, plant seeds of doubt to make him turn against the SunWoven Order. Preposterous, and yet…when he thought about his passage ceremonies, the only three he had left before his initiation as an Elder Mage, fear, anxiety rolled down his spine, a cold, clammy grip that seized him suddenly and violently when he thought back to that poor initiate.

His shock hadn’t faded from memory, even after a month. He knew the initiated mage to be fine, in fact, he tried to avoid crossing his path whenever he could, finding that the contrasting sight of him, his skin healthy and glowing, did nothing to rid Shay of the scarring images of that same skin peeling and welting as a focused beam of sunlight burned away at him.

Whenever he saw his eyes though, the blue seemed so much less vibrant these days, as though he too regretted his decisions, still lived with that terrible memory.

Did he want to end up in that same position, spread, vulnerable, unable to move, unable to protect himself from the very thing he drew magic from?

He closed his eyes, shaking his head as the buzzing began to rear its ugly head. Why is it whenever he begins to doubt his path as a mage of Synn, his head throbs so unpleasantly?

"You have to be sick," Oras’ concerned voice broke through the ringing in his ears. "You’ve been having headaches for Synn knows how long."

"Oras, I’m fine!" he finally snapped, glaring daggers at his stunned friend’s face. "I’m just nervous about my trials. You know they only get harder with each tier. Stop being so concerned with mine when you still haven’t passed your own."

A look of hurt washed over Oras’ features as soon as the words were out.

Blast it. He hadn’t meant to say that. "Oras, I-"

His friend stood from the study desk abruptly, gathering his belongings. "No, no, you’re right. I should focus more on my own studies instead of worrying about my friend."

Shay couldn’t find it in himself to move from his seat, even when Oras slammed the door of his room.

He placed his head in his hands, a trembling breath shaking his lungs.

XXXXX

He didn’t know why he sought out the wisterias, the flowing creek water, the white trellis and the marble bridge. He didn’t even know why he came in the middle of the night, when in only a few hours, he would need to show up to the trial chamber and show the Elder Mages and the High Mage what he is capable of. A need for answers? For blunt conversation that didn’t cut any corners?

Or was he here hoping that just a fleeting touch from Eleos’ hand would dispel his anxieties, replace them with warmth, craving, for something far less earthly?

Nevertheless, when Shay parted the firefly-strewn wisterias, he found Eleos staring down at the creek between the carved, arched pillars of the bridge, blending into the night as though he himself were made of the night.

When those eyes found his darkened blue ones though, they shone against the dark backdrop like the stars themselves had granted them light.

"The little apprentice returns," he drawled smoothly, his eyes returning to the gurgling creek below.

Shay ignored the title which the man seemed so intent on calling him, carefully walking closer to the archway, petals sticking to his hair as he pushed the flowers aside. "You said I could come here to converse with you."

"I did say that, didn’t I?"

The teasing tone made the first little flutters of anticipation appear in the young man’s belly. Bravely, he went on, "Well, I’m here now."

"So you are."

He didn’t say anything more. Barely even acknowledged him. Annoyed, Shay stepped closer to the man, not daring to get more than a foot from him. "If this is some game-"

"I don’t play games."

"Then say something, for Synn’s sake!"

Immediately, fiery golden irises pinned him to the spot, causing Shay to petrify. Damn. What had he said wrong? Eleos is the one acting like he hadn’t wanted to speak with him. But then, a low growl came from him, "Do not speak to me of Synn."

"Why?" he retorted, finding satisfaction in the fact that he found something that seemed to annoy the handsome man, ignoring the buzzing that started to make his ears ring again. "Afraid of a little sunlight?" he taunted.

"You know not what you say," Eleos whispered harshly, running a hand through his long black locks, the same hand coming to grip Shay’s arm tightly.

"Let go!"

"Enough."

Long fingers tangled in his hair, pressed on his scalp.

Like lightning, the effect was immediate, and Shay’s eyelids drooped at the sensation. "Oh gods, stop, don’t…"

"Look at me."

He did then, finding hard gold staring back at him.

"Fight against it."

Against it? Against what? All he could feel was the touch of Eleos’ hand in his hair, the feelings of lust that presented themselves whenever he did so, and fought against the erection that wanted so dearly to be free of the confines of his robes.

Another sensation though, the headache, the buzzing in his head, the ringing; was that what the other spoke of? It faded to the back of his mind as he lost all sense and squirmed in the man’s light grasp, head tilting if only to get more of that sweet friction on his scalp-

A low, rumbling laugh drifted to his hears, and, against better judgement, he opened his eyes into tiny slits, finding the task of keeping them open to be monumental against the onslaught of sensation coming from his sensitive hair. Amused eyes met his flustered gaze: Eleos was smiling down at him like he found an adorable kitten rubbing up at his calves. "I barely need to touch you, do I?"

He let Shay go, one hand staying at the young’s man’s shoulder to support him. Shay panted, trembling fiercely with unmet desire. "Why…why does it…"

"You really are ignorant, aren’t you?"

He breathed heavily, clutching his chest as his heart beat settled. "It’s not funny, I don’t think this is normal."

"You’re right." Blue eyes found knowing gold. "It isn’t."

He swallowed hard. "I don’t understand" he shook his head.

A pause came from the other, as though he were considering his next words. Shay tried to even his breath, nervousness eating away at him the longer Eleos simply gazed at him.

"What is your name?" he finally asked.

For a moment, the young man considered not giving his real name, but thought better against it. He’s still not entirely certain of how dangerous Eleos is. If he’s at all at the same level as even the lowest ranked Elder Mages, he could easily detect if he’s lying or not. Better not to risk it. "Shay, my name is Shay."

The man nodded, leaning against the railing. "You’re a learned apprentice, going by the length of your hair."

"Y-yes." Shay cocked his head to one side, brows furrowed in confusion. "How…"

But Eleos ignored his unsaid question. How the man knew of his level of knowledge, he could not fathom. Only the mages of the SunWoven order were privy to that information, only they knew how to tell from one’s hair length and color alone, though it is possible for one to deduce such information, should they observe them long enough. Had the man been spying on the Order?

Eleos leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded him carefully. "You seek me out, despite knowing what the Order has told you, and yet you don’t seem to know why."

Shay felt his cheeks flush at the words. He was right of course. He didn’t know why he was here, just that he somehow felt the NEED.

The Dark Mage continued, "Tell me this: I asked you if you understood what a Dark Mage is. You never answered me. So…"

He looked at him with expectant golden eyes. "I…" Shay struggled to find the right words, not having thought Eleos would put him on the spot like this. "I know Dark Mages use forms of magic that are generally frowned upon, like blood magic." Here, the other chuckled, but he let him go on, "And that most don’t become a Dark Mage by choice."

"Ah," the other exhaled, "Well, that there is not quite true."

"How so?"

"The Orders would have you believe Dark Mages have no choice to go down such a path, either because of their nature or some other lie that they fed you. Every person who becomes a Dark Mage has the choice. It’s just that depending on the circumstances, becoming a Dark Mage is the only GOOD choice."

The young man found it in himself to laugh at such an idea. "A choice between what: life as a Dark Mage or, I don’t know, dying?"

"Between becoming a Dark Mage or being initiated."

Shay stopped laughing. Eleos was looking at him with all seriousness.

"You confirmed you were a learned apprentice," the man reminded him, his words slow, deliberate, "I’m sure you know then, what being initiated entails under the SunWoven Order."

He did. All too well. It still haunted his sleepless nights.

"Wait," he said, his mind catching up to what Eleos was implying, "You say this as though you know-"

Those golden abysses held his.

After a lengthy, tense pause, Eleos removed himself from the railing. He came to Shay then, and placed a heavy palm on his shoulder as he passed him by. "Perhaps you should find out a little more about your Order before bad-mouthing me."

Shay turned just as that hand fell from his shoulder, watching, mesmerized as Eleos’ long, raven hair lifted soundlessly around his form, as a golden aura surrounded it in shifting, dazzling tones, the wisterias around him fluttering at the sudden change in air pressure.

Eleos turned back only for a moment, gracing him with a knowing smile.

Just as before, he vanished from sight, leaving Shay alone on the flower-strewn bridge, with more questions than answers to his unending plight.

XXXXX

A scream broke through the ringing in his ears, Shay’s head flicking to the source of the sound.

They had been five learned apprentices gathered in the waiting hall, all nervous about passing their trials, hoping they wouldn’t fail, hoping to become pupils. Three of them had already entered the trail chamber, leaving only himself and one other apprentice, a young woman, to the eerie quiet of the hall.

A quiet that had been broken by the large doors being pushed apart violently, as four Elder Mages escorted the third apprentice out. The boy was holding his face, crying out, where steam came off in plumes.

His hands had angry pustules on them. Who knows what his face looked like underneath. ‘Acid, or poison?’ Shay thought nervously, swallowing, cringing at the painful wails as the poor apprentice was whisked away. He didn’t pass his trails, unfortunately.

The trials only got harder. Shay knew that. The Order had to make sure a mage was well and truly ready before passing on to the next phase, had to push them to their limits. Anything less than perfect, and they were quickly sent back to study.

"Apprentice Shay."

He stiffened, eyes going to the Elder Mage at the entrance to the trail chamber. She beckoned him to the doors. "We are ready for your trials."

It was with mechanical movements that he made his way into the chamber. This wasn’t the first time he had been in here, and it wouldn’t be the last. The large, domed room, like so many in these grand halls, was nothing spectacular at first glance. No windows. Only a viewing balcony suspended high above the marble floor, for the Elder Mages from the Council and the High Mage to watch. Shay knew from experience however, that the walls, the floor and ceiling were lined with impenetrable shields, practically invisible to the naked eye. No magic from an apprentice could destroy any part of the place, not unless he was given something specific meant to be blasted to dust.

One of the Elder Mages above him read the usual paragraph of text explaining how the trial will work. Shay listened half-heartedly, having heard the text many times already. After they all sat to begin the trial, the same mage spoke, "You will start by showing the council two types of conjuration spells: one threatening, and one non-threatening.

Conjuration. Right. For a brief moment, he recalled the apprentice that had been brought out of the trial chamber, recalling the pustules on his hands.

Concentrating, Shay called upon his arcane ability, his hair lifting from his shoulder, glowing faintly in the dim room.

He pulled from that memory, thought back to his training, his mouth incanting ancient words to call upon a sickening haze to gather around himself, to envelop the room in a yellowish-brown smog. In his mind he could almost SEE the elements which he mixed together, how each molecule twisted and bent to his will, corrupting the still air of the trail chamber.

The High Mage was the one to speak, "You fared far better than your classmate in utilizing that spell."

So that’s what had happened. The boy hadn’t known how to control the spell and ended up poisoning himself with it. The fool.

A breathed slowly, willing the air to return to normal. When he opened his eyes, the smog had dispersed. He kept his concentration, hair flowing about his head like liquid silk. A non-threatening conjuration now.

He reached for the pouch at his belt, finding a vial he had prepared for such a thing. More spoken words, and he threw the glass vial to the ground, glass shattering, scattering ground substances around his form, hands glowing as he willed the components into forming a circle around him, shaping them into runes which sparkled on the ground around him. Closing his eyes, he concentrated further, thinking of the layout of the trail chamber, thinking of where he would alight.

Cocky, he made his choice, and in an instant, vanished from sight. In his mind, he couldn’t help but think that his technique could still improve. Eleos had no trouble teleporting without the use of components.

No, he shouldn’t think about him. Not right now.

His form materialized in front of the High Mage. The elderly man looked much younger than his age would suggest, yet still had a wizened face and knowing, sapphire-blue eyes. The High Mage wore his hair the longest among the SunWoven order, well over twenty feet of the palest platinum blonde imaginable. Attended always by other Elder Mages, his hair was set in an elaborate style, ornaments hanging from it, small jewels encrusted in the silken strands. Even his long white beard had a ring or two adorning it.

One wispy brow raised at him, but the High Mage smirked. "Teleportation is usually reserved for pupils."

Shay straightened, finding himself less nervous about his trials. "Is that not what these tests are for? To see if we are ready to be pupils?"

An Elder Mage began to say something -no doubt a comment about how he should address the High Mage- but the wise old man lifted a silencing hand, nodding his head slowly, once. "Let us continue with the trial then, apprentice Shay."

The council had him do a multitude of tasks, from creating a life-like illusion, changing his facial features, warding against a multitude of elemental forces, using those same forces to create powerful, destructive spells, dissipating different kinds of magic, transforming large objects into small ones and vice-versa, enchanting certain objects, even charming and putting someone to sleep using his arcane ability.

He panted, sweating as the final trail was about to be revealed to him, his body shaking from the exhaustion.

The High Mage stood above him on the balcony, peering down at him with that penetrating gaze.

"Using your knowledge of divination, you will peer into my mind."

Damn. No wonder they hadn’t tasked him with any divination up to this point. Reading thoughts is not an easy feat, made worse by the fact that this is the High Mage. If he blundered even a little…

But he wants this. He wants to be better, more powerful. To learn more. To become an Elder Mage. He needs to pass this trial if he ever wants to get there.

‘F***’ he thought, suddenly aware of the buzzing in his head. It could not have chosen a worse time.

One last push, that’s all he needed. He would deal with these headaches after, he swore, a certain Dark Mage’s handsome features coming to mind at the implications of such an act. For now, he just needed to power through and finish his trial.

Contrary to some Elder Mages, Shay could not simply close his eyes to see into another person’s mind. He needed to focus his spiritual energies to achieve proper penetration. The only viable way he has been able to succeed in -on less guarded minds mind you- is through astral projecting into another person’s body and mind.

Licking his lips, Shay reached into his pouch, fingers curling around the smooth surface of the object he desired.

He could not tell from the floor, but he had the unnerving feeling of eyes watching him intently as he took his polished obsidian stone out. It was by no means any ordinary rock. All minerals have residual arcane energy in them, making crystals and stones popular arcane focuses. In this case, he already uses his hair, but the stone had been modified for a certain one of its uses. He had worked endlessly to make it into a triangular form that perfectly fit between the index and thumb fingers of both his hands when he held them out in front of his face, and had made a perfectly round hole in the middle.

His magic is derived from sunlight, stored in the golden sheen of his hair. The obsidian is black, able to absorb the radiant light, and, with the right amount of concentration and the right words, able to release it in a focused beam. Shay would call upon his radiant astral self and push in through the hole, using it as a gateway to the High Mage’s mind.

His hair shone brighter with the effort he put into using that last bit of energy he had into this divination. It flowed around his head more fervently, his entire body being engulfed in a faint aura the more he concentrated.

He lifted the obsidian to the High Mage’s position above him, eyes staring intently into the hole, seeing the gateway forming in his mind’s eye, seeing it open for him, giving him a path to the old man’s subconscious.

He breathed. Once. The moment he closed his eyes, he was engulfed in light.

When he finally opened them, his astral projection had succeeded. He could see everything in slow motion from the astral plane where his formless body currently resided, turned only momentarily to watch the slow falling of his body to the ground. If he was lucky, by the time this was over, he would be back in his body before his head touched the floor.

He focused on the path the obsidian had opened for him, finding the astral body of the High Mage waiting to be entered. He lifted himself, as though a mote of dust catching in an updraft, and placed his projection in front of the other’s.

He couldn’t simply enter. The path to the man’s mind had been opened, certainly, but the High Mage doesn’t simply LET one read his mind. His astral self had arcane locks barring him from entry. He had studied this as well.

His astral self shook, the radiant plane shifting. F***, he needed to make this quick. His concentration was failing.

He focused on the locks, seeing ancient words from a tongue long forgotten twisting and turning as he began to unmake them. So many of them, and yet, he knew the High mage had already unlocked most of them for him. An apprentice would never be able to enter his mind otherwise, never mind a full-fledged Mage. Even they would have trouble. The High Mage’s mind is far too important to be broken into nilly-willy. Still, why were there so many locks?

‘Perhaps you should find out a little more about your Order before bad-mouthing me.’

His astral projection was wavering. He became aware of the same buzzing in his head happening here, but it seemed so much more intense, the ringing so much louder. For every lock he unmade, the sound, the blinding pain only doubled. His focus was scattering, his astral self trying in vain to ease the pain, the block out the sound but it was so much worse here, so much more powerful than himself and there’s nothing he could do to stop it.

His radiant vision blurred, trembled violently, with the onslaught. He tried to push past the final lock but could scarcely think anymore. All he was in that moment was being consumed. He was no longer in control of his actions, finding that the locks were being re-made, and faintly, for a brief moment, it was as though there were two astral bodies belonging to the High Mage-

He did the equivalent of closing his eyes, as best as he could in this astral projection.

Eleos’ face came to mind.

The ringing only got louder. The world around was a crumbling, bright mess of gold.

Eleos’ hand in his hair.

The buzzing intensified; it sounded like a scream.

Eleos smiling, his fingers curling at his nape, brushing long digits through his hair, caressing tenderly, caressing lewdly, his own body wanting more, reaching for the sensation that washed over him, made his insides light with burning embers of desire.

‘I barely need to touch you, do I?’

Teasing words. A dazzling, staggering smile that made his knees shake. Those hands tightening in his locks, the promises of a far less innocent touch, if only he would let him.

It was like he was there, holding his weakened astral self to his broad chest, his hands in his hair, pressing on his scalp, his lips to his ears.

‘Fight against it.’

The last of the locks broke, and Shay felt his astral body shaking unstably at the sight before him.

He had successfully entered the old man’s mind, but what he saw could not possibly be what the man had intended for him to see.

He felt as though he were burning. Countless, bright white eyes burning so intensely hot they seemed almost blue. If he had eyes in this formless projection, he was certain he would have blinded himself.

His vision went to his surroundings. The eyes extended down. A flaming ring, no, many of them, formed on this THING’s body, too immense to describe with words. It was unbearably hot.

This place, this thing, fire. Endless, all consuming, a raging inferno the likes of which were only even spoken about in the annals of history, forgotten to time, but anchored within each waking person’s subconscious. This was where nightmares were born and came to die, this is a plane far beyond the astral realm, far beyond comprehension, and Shay feared his mind would break from being so close to it; it felt as though his body -no- his very soul cried out in anguish as unimaginable pain and fear took over.

Panic overtook him. All he could do was stare into those hate-filled, white eyes.

A booming voice broke his concentration, and as his astral body began to shatter, his ears ringing, his mind caught on to the wrathful words:

"YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE."

With a terrible foreboding feeling rising within him, Shay was slammed back into his corporeal body.

Landing roughly on the marble flooring, with barely enough time to cushion his head with his arms, Shay panted, his breaths coming hard and fast, so much so he began to get dizzy. Adrenalin pumped in his veins, sweat dripping from his body copiously as he pushed himself into a sitting position.

Wide, unstable blue eyes found the High Mage’s own surprised sapphire ones.

Even from his position, Shay saw the flash of wrath in them.

He looked down.

The obsidian had turned to ash, still smoking from the heat.

"Apprentice Shay."

He snapped his head up, fearful irises staring up at the High Mage.

The moment of silence was tense. Instead of anger on his superior’s face, Shay saw a flash of curiosity, and more disconcerting, of cruel intent.

He swallowed, struggling to find his voice. "…Yes?"

The old man leered down at him for a moment more, before turning on his heel and leaving through the balcony doorway.

"Your passage ceremony happens tomorrow morning. Don’t be late."

XXXXX

"Oras isn’t here."

"Well, do you know where he is?" Shay asked another novice apprentice, eyeing the large dormitory common room he had once shared with his good friend.

The apprentice shook his head. "I don’t know, Shay. He left what, perhaps two hours ago? He said he’d be back tonight."

A sigh fell from his lips. "Could you tell him I stopped by? And at the very least, give him this when he returns."

He handed the apprentice a sealed package, a note attached to the side. "Sure thing."

Shay left the novice dormitory shortly after, still not knowing whether he was overreacting by giving Oras those talismans.

Something had definitely gone wrong during that divination. Never had he seen something so disturbing, so genuinely terror-inducing. That horror he had seen in the High Mage’s mind…what was that? The High Mage had certainly looked enraged that he had peered into him. What had it said? "You shouldn’t be here"?

He felt nauseous just thinking about it. The cruel twinkle in the old man’s eyes had not made his worries dissipate in the slightest. His frazzled mind reeling, he had made warding talismans by the dozens, keeping some for dispelling magic, some for protection against harm…

Some for harming others.

He didn’t know why, but if something were to happen to him, he wanted to make sure Oras, who had been so worried about him, to be safe. Novices don’t make talismans, far too advanced a craft for their level of knowledge or arcane ability, and even if they could be better, he wanted, NEEDED Oras to have them for his own peace of mind.

Peace of mind he did not yet have. He was starting to draw theories and conclusions about the SunWoven Order he didn’t think he had the mental capacity to handle, uncertain knowledge he could not fathom shouldering alone.

But he couldn’t find the courage to see Eleos. Not yet.

XXXXX

Continued in part three.

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