KESM: Terra Quatuor Chronicles

"Checkmate"

It sounded so cathartic. It tasted like victory. It felt euphoric…. Yet their hearts ached, maybe just as much as Sabbath's. They knew he could heal, but could he heal from that?. Why would he take such a gamble?, their minds raced as they all, without knowing, thought back to their last conversation with him.

*

The storm raged on above them, but it felt almost muted in the confines of the temporary shelter. They had found refuge beneath the crumbling remnants of Emaila's barrier — shimmering light and fractured will — forming a protective cocoon. Sabbath sat with his back against its wall, his chest heaving, every breath like broken glass scraping his lungs. The team gathered around him in silence, their bodies battered, their spirits frayed.

The glow of the Cumulodrake's lingering presence had dimmed, but the chains it represented still felt heavy on all of them.

Bound.

It wasn't just a title. It was a curse, etched into their bones, branded on their very souls. Sabbath's fingers traced the mark on his wrist, the sigil that had been burned there the day he…. and the rest of them really, were claimed. A faint, pulsing light glimmered beneath his skin, a reminder of the pact they never chose.

"We shouldn't be alive." Hayz muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was hoarse, thick with exhaustion. He leaned heavily against the domed wall of light, blood smearing it from every part of his body it met. "Every time we face one of these things, it feels like we're just…. borrowing time. Like we're delaying the inevitable."

Jon let out a low laugh, bitter and sharp. "Borrowed time is all we've ever had, isn't it? Since the moment we were Bound."

Sabbath glanced at them both, his eyes betraying the weight of guilt, he had once promised they'd all be free. "We've had worse days."

"Have we?" Emaila asked swiftly. She was hunched over, her hands trembling as she tried to patch up Angelie's torn side, suturing it with light. Blood soaked the fabric of her top, staining the ground beneath them. Her staff was destroyed, unable to channel the power she needed for the shield. Emaila's voice cracked as she continued. "Because it feels like th…. this is the worst it's ever been."

Angelie, ever defiant, gritted her teeth and forced a smile. "Speak for yourself. I think I've got one good arm left, or three."

The attempt at humor fell flat. No one laughed.

"Humour is more his thing." Emaila said pointing at Hayz.

The weight in the air grew heavier.

Bound.

Way past the sigils and the death sentence. They were chained. Tethered to this brutal reality. They weren't just fighting Fiends. They were fighting the inevitability of their own erasure.

Sabbath finally spoke, his voice even and deliberate. "Do you know why they call us Bound men?"

Everyone's eyes turned to him.

"It's not just the contracts," he continued. "Not just the sigils. It's because we're bound to something bigger than ourselves. Bigger than anything we can fight."

He exhaled slowly, the weight of his words pressing down on him as much as it did the others. "We're bound to our pasts, our mistakes, our fears. Bound to a world that doesn't care if we live or die. Every Fiend we kill, every battle we survive…. it doesn't unbind us. It doesn't break its suffocating grip. It just weakens the noose, until it finally snaps."

"Does the reason really matter? We know why we keep going." Jon said. There was no hostility in his tone, just much needed reaffirmation.

"Why else do we keep fighting, Sabby?". "There's no other reason."

Sabbath looked at each of them in turn. Jon, with his perpetually trembling hands from burnt palms. Hayz, the cynic who laughed to keep from screaming. Emaila, who bore every wound as though it were her penance. Angelie, who hid her pain behind a mask of strength. And Sabby himself, the silent storm, whose rage had yet to find an outlet.

"Because we don't have a choice," Sabbath said finally. "Not yet."

The space fell silent again.

Jon was the one who broke it this time, his voice cold and sharp. "Freedom's a lie. You know that, right?"

"We can't kill that thing out there. We won't survive this mission. What then? The next suicide run? We're not fighting for freedom. We're just postponing the end."

"You don't believe that." Angelie said, though her voice wavered.

"Don't I?" Jon shot back, his amber eyes flashing. "Look at us. We're hanging on by threads. And for what? To die slower?"

"That's enough," Sabbath said, his voice cutting through the tension.

Jon's eyes narrowed, but he didn't argue. He leaned back against the wall, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Sabbath took a deep breath, wincing as the movement pulled at his healing wounds. "He's not wrong," he admitted. "We are hanging on by threads. And yes, this fight feels impossible. But that doesn't mean we give up. Not now. Not when we're this close."

"Why?" Emaila asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why do you still believe we can make it out of this alive?"

Sabbath's eyes burned brighter, a flicker of defiance against the darkness threatening to consume them. "Because the moment we stop fighting, they win. The Kingdoms that bound us. The world that wants us to disappear. If we stop now, we let them decide our fate. And I'm not ready to give them that satisfaction."

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truth.

Hayz let out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. "You always know how to give a speech, don't you?"

Sabbath managed a faint smile. "It's the only thing I'm good at."

The storm outside began to die down, the distant rumble of thunder fading into a low growl. The team sat in silence, their exhaustion palpable but their resolve slowly solidifying.

Bound.

The chains still held them, but for now, they refused to break.