92 - Chains
Zafiel took another step. Then another. Slow. Unhurried. Like there was no need to rush—because there was nowhere left for her to go.
“Iana.” His voice came softer this time. Not commanding. Not sharp. Just… certain.
Mariana shook her head immediately. “No… no, don’t—” Her back pressed harder against the wall, fingers splayed against the cold surface as if she could somehow merge into it and disappear. “Stay away…!”
But he didn’t stop. “Iana.” Again. Closer now.
Her breath hitched. “Stop calling me that…!”
Another step. He was too close. Too fast.
“No—” She tried to slip past him to dart to the side. But before she could even take a full step, he disappeared. Her eyes widened. “Wha—!”
And then, he was in front of her. So close she almost collided into him.
Mariana let out a small, startled squeak as she stumbled only to be caught. Not gently. Firmly. His arm slid behind her back in one swift motion, the other hooking beneath her knees. And suddenly, she was lifted.
“Ah...!” Her hands instinctively grabbed onto his coat as the world tilted beneath her. “Pu-Put me down...!”
Zafiel didn’t even break stride. “Calm down.” He said lightly.
“I said put me down...!” She struggled, twisting slightly in his hold. “Zafie—”
“I already told you to call me 'Zai'." He warned. "It’s dangerous to struggle.” His tone softened, almost amused. “You might fall.”
“THAT’S BECAUSE YOU’RE THE ONE—”
Her protests cut off into another startled sound as he adjusted his hold—tightening it. Secure. Unyielding.
No matter how much she moved, it didn’t matter. He carried her effortlessly like she weighed nothing. Like she belonged there. Mariana’s heart pounded violently in her chest.
This is bad. This is REALLY bad!!
“Le-Let me go...!” She hissed under her breath, trying to keep her voice low despite the panic clawing up her throat. “People will see...!”
“Let them.” Zafiel replied calmly.
Her brain short-circuited. “EXCUSE ME...?!”
But he didn’t answer. He just walked through the halls. Past turning corridors and towering pillars, his pace steady and unwavering. Guards they passed immediately lowered their heads, stepping aside without question.
No one stopped him. No one questioned him. No one dared. They ascended the grand staircase. Each step echoing. Each second stretching unbearably long.
Mariana’s struggling gradually weakened—not because she wanted to stop. But because she realized, it wasn’t doing anything. He wasn’t even affected.
“I hate you…” she muttered under her breath.
Zafiel hummed softly. “That’s unfortunate.”
Her eye twitched. After what felt like an eternity, they stopped before a pair of massive twin doors. Dark. Ornate. Gold detailing carved into deep violet wood.
Even without asking, she knew.
This is his room...!
“No…” Her voice dropped, barely audible.
Zafiel didn’t pause. He simply kicked the doors open. The heavy wood slammed inward with a loud thud, then shut behind them just as quickly. The sound echoed. Final. Locked.
Mariana’s stomach dropped.
The room, it was exactly what she expected and worse. Dark purple draped the walls, layered with black and gold accents that screamed imperial authority. Velvet curtains framed tall windows, blocking out the outside world entirely.
A massive bed sat at the center—elevated slightly, adorned with luxurious fabrics that looked far too soft for something that felt so suffocating. It was beautiful. Opulent. And it felt like a cage.
“Put me down…” She said again, weaker now.
This time, he did carefully. He laid her on the bed. For a split second, she thought—
Maybe—
But then—cold metal, a sharp clink. Her wrists jerked. “What...?!” Chains. They appeared out of nowhere, wrapping around her wrists in an instant—tight, secure, unbreakable.
Mariana’s eyes widened as she tried to pull back. “Wait...! No...!” The chains didn’t budge. She yanked harder. Nothing. “What is this...?!” She panicked, struggling more now, trying to sit up, trying to pull free. “Let me go...!”
Zafiel watched her, smiling calmly. “Don’t struggle too much.” He said lightly.
“ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW...?!” she snapped, pulling harder against the restraints. “What did you do...?!”
He stepped closer, stopping at the edge of the bed. “They’re made of Manalith.” He explained casually.
Her movements slowed. “What...?”
“A mineral,” he continued, “that seals mana.” Her breath caught. “And not just the chains.” he added, glancing around the room briefly. “The walls of this palace are lined with it.”
Her mind clicked. The emptiness. The void. “My mana…” She whispered.
“That’s why.” He confirmed.
Her hands trembled. No magic. No teleportation. No escape. Nothing. “Let me go…” She said again, voice shaking now.
Zafiel shook his head slowly, gently. “No.” Her chest tightened painfully. “You’re right where you belong.” He said softly.
Her eyes widened. “… what?”
“Here.” he continued. “With me.” Her breath hitched. “In my room.” His voice lowered slightly. “Where it’s safe.”
Safe? SAFE?!
“I am NOT safe...!” She snapped, panic rising. “You’re insane...!”
Zafiel didn’t react. He just watched her, still smiling.
“I’m the Sixth Archmage...!” She blurted out desperately. “And the Saintess...! You can’t just—”
“I know.” He cut in calmly.
She froze. “… what?”
“I know.” He repeated.
Her voice faltered. “The-Then why—”
“It doesn’t matter.” He said simply.
Her stomach dropped. “Wha-What do you mean it doesn’t matter...?!”
Zafiel tilted his head slightly. “Because,” he said quietly, “I’m a Sword Saint.”
Silence. Heavy. Crushing.
Her words died in her throat.
Right, of course he is. Of course he would be something even more terrifying.
Her strength. Her titles. Her power... none of it mattered here. Not against him.
Zafiel sat down on the edge of the bed. Close. Too close.
Mariana instinctively shrank back as much as the chains allowed, which wasn’t much. He reached out and ruffled her hair softly, almost gently.
“… stop that…” She muttered weakly.
He didn’t. “You don’t need to worry.” He said. Her eye twitched. “I have everything prepared.” He continued calmly.
Her stomach twisted. “What… are you talking about…?”
Zafiel gestured slightly. “This palace,” he said, “has everything you could ever want.” Her breath felt stuck. “The best chefs.” he continued. “Any dish you like.” Her fingers curled. “Books.” He added. “The ones you enjoy.”
Her heart sank. Clothes. Comfort. Luxury. Everything. Everything except—
“Freedom.” She said sharply.
Zafiel paused, then smiled and ignored it. “All you have to do,” he said softly, “is ask.”
Mariana stared at him. Disbelief. Fear. Anger. “You’re insane…” She whispered.
“Perhaps.” He replied calmly.
“I want to leave.” She said, louder this time. “Let me go...!” No response. “I said I want to leave...!” Nothing. “I don’t want any of this...!” Still nothing.
Zafiel simply looked at her. Unmoved. Unshaken. As if her words didn’t matter. As if they couldn’t. “You can have anything here.” He said again, voice soft. “Everything you need.”
Her chest heaved. “I don’t need anything from you...!”
A pause. Then, “You need me.”
Her breath stopped. “… no.”
“You do.” he said quietly.
Her head shook weakly. “No…”
Zafiel leaned slightly closer, close enough that she could see it clearly that certainty. That unwavering belief. “You just don’t realize it yet.”
Her vision blurred. Her chest tightened. Her wrists strained uselessly against the chains, trapped completely. “… I hate this…” she whispered.
Zafiel watched her and smiled. “Then stay,” he said softly. Her heart sank. “… and learn to love it.”