Chains And Whispers.
Chapter Six: Chains and Whispers
Clink! Clink!
Aiden stirred, eyelids heavy, head pounding like war drums. The cold bite of iron cuffs burned against his wrists—dampening, suppressing, chaining down the power inside him like a caged beast.
“Where the f*ck am I?” he croaked, voice hoarse.
The sound of the cuffs clinking echoed around him as he shifted. Stone walls, damp and ancient, pressed in around him like tombs. A sliver of moonlight poured through a small barred window, painting a pale streak across the floor.
“One minute I’m freaking out over finals,” Aiden muttered, dragging himself upright, “next, I’m thrown in a goddamn medieval dungeon by... monsters?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging hard. “Is this a dream? Did I finally snap?”
But no—he remembered. Being yanked from Aldrich’s arms. That moment of panic. The blur of claws and fangs and shadows. He would’ve preferred Aldrich’s fiery presence over this frigid silence.
“Aldrich... where are you?”
Suddenly, two guards burst into the cell.
“Let go of me!” Aiden thrashed, but their grip only tightened. “Where are you taking me?!”
They dragged him through a winding corridor, the stone walls narrowing and damp, until they reached a tall chamber with a domed roof. At the center stood a curved stone altar, weathered with age, humming with something ancient... and cruel.
“Lay him down,” a deep voice ordered. “Prepare the blood-spell.”
Aiden’s eyes widened. “No—no, I’m not who you think I am!”
He fought harder, but it was useless. A circle formed around him. Vampires with blank faces began chanting in a forgotten tongue. The pain came swift and cruel—needles of agony threading through his veins. His back arched. His vision blurred. He screamed.
Then—darkness.
His eyes flew open again.
He was still chained, but now to the altar itself. Cold sweat clung to his skin.
“He is the true Moon’s Child,” someone whispered.
“I’m nothing, okay?” Aiden snapped, trying to lift his head. “Can you translate your cult sh*t to English?”
Another voice: older, colder. “Who is Aldrich to you? Are you mated already?”
“What? Aldrich? No! I—I don’t even know him like that. And what the hell does ‘mated’ mean?”
“Take him back,” the old one ordered, and the guards seized him again.
Back in his cell, Aiden lay curled beneath the window, moonlight brushing over his bruised cheek. His thoughts spun. His body screamed.
Then, a voice. Soft. Feminine. Gentle as wind in autumn leaves.
“Don’t let them break you,” she whispered. “You’ve made it this far.”
Aiden stiffened. He pressed his ear to the stone wall.
“Hello? Who’s there? Am I officially talking to walls now?”
A quiet chuckle. “You’ve grown so much…”
His throat tightened. “Who are you?”
“Someone who tried to protect you. Someone who paid the price.”
“I don’t—” he started, but a guard barked, “Keep it down!”
The woman fell silent.
Aiden slumped. The cuffs pulsed with magic, flaring pain up his arms. His body collapsed.
He whispered one last name before unconsciousness took him.
“Aldrich...”
Far away, across bloodstained maps and flickering candlelight, Aldrich staggered backward, his nose bleeding.
“I saw him,” he said, voice low and raw. “He’s alive. Whispering my name.”
Fiona steadied him. “Then we don’t wait. We go now.”
Around the table, the rescue team was locked in place. Fiona. Merrick. Grants. All warriors in their own right.
Merrick leaned in with a smirk. “Someone’s not exactly chill about their mate.”
Aldrich didn’t respond.
Fiona pointed at the map. “The moment we enter council territory, we’re at a disadvantage. Aldrich, you have to hone in on his scent. His bond.”
Aldrich closed his eyes again. He could feel Aiden—cold, scared, alone. The thread between them pulled tight.
Aiden’s crescent-shaped mark glowed faintly against his skin. He gritted his teeth, gripping the chains.
“Ahhh—!”
A sudden spark. Power rushed through him, golden and angry. The cuffs cracked, shattered, clattered to the floor.
The walls trembled.
Alarms wailed. Red lights flared to life.
He stumbled out, heart racing. Down the corridor, to a cell opposite his.
A tiny woman sat quietly in the corner. Pale eyes glowing.
“Madam, I can get you out—”
She shook her head. “Not yet, Aiden. We’ll meet again… when the stars are kinder.”
Aiden paused. Her face was oddly familiar.
But there was no time.
He limped on, until two warlocks stepped into view, chanting. Their spells flared blue and black.
Aiden lifted his hand—reflex, instinct, desperation. A golden wave exploded from his palm, hurling them against the walls.
“Oh no—no, no. I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry!”
The ceiling above cracked. The fortress groaned.
Deep below, Aldrich moved like fire through the chaos. Fiona cut down soldiers like paper dolls, her blade a blur of silver. Merrick’s beast form tore through enemies, primal and vicious. Grants brought the earth to life—walls crumbled, paths opened.
Aldrich pressed on. He could feel Aiden growing closer.
Aiden dropped to his knees, barely breathing.
Then—boots. In front of him. Blood-splattered. Familiar.
He looked up—and met the gentlest eyes he’d ever seen.
“Aldrich...?” his voice cracked.
Aldrich dropped beside him, cradling him like porcelain.
“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
Aiden collapsed into his arms, trembling. “Get me out of here. Please.”
Aldrich pulled him close, wrapping him in warmth, in promise.
But the moment shattered.
A slow, cold laugh echoed through the hallway. Shadows lengthened.
From the smoke stepped a tall figure in black robes. Ancient claws. A staff pulsing with corrupted magic. Malachai—the Council’s Force Commander.
“The Moon’s Child belongs to me,” he sneered. “With his power, I’ll control the Alpha Prime himself.”
Aldrich stepped in front of Aiden, shielding him.
“Over my dead body.”
Dark magic hurled Aldrich backward, slamming him into the wall.
Malachai raised Aiden with his power, dark tendrils wrapping around him like vines.
Aiden struggled, gasping, limbs flailing.
“LET. HIM. GO!” Aldrich roared.
And the walls shook again.
