World in Chains- The Complete Series

by Ryan W. Mueller

  Someone had to fix it.

  "But what if I just want to see my parents?" Warrick asked.

  "In time. Be patient. Remember that you are bound to me. You will do my will whether you want to or not. That was part of our deal."

  "Well, I'd like to change the terms of the deal."

  The spirit let out a low, sinister laugh. "It's too late for that, Darien."

  It touched him, and that horrible cold stabbed through every inch of his body. He shook violently atop the bed, but then it stopped. Exhausted, he was about to drift off to sleep.

  "When you wake up, you will begin your ascent to power. One day, you will rule an empire, and you will think it is all your doing, not mine." The spirit chuckled. "In the morning, you will not remember this conversation at all."

  * * * * *

  Warrick stood upon the streets of Luminia, thrilled at the power coursing through him. Less than an hour ago, he had attained immortality. He hadn't known what to expect. Other sorcerers had told him he would feel different. That was the best they could explain it.

  The word different was an understatement. He felt invincible, as if he could crush anyone or anything that stood in his way. Changing the world would begin now.

  "How are you feeling?" Marlon asked, standing a few feet away, bathed in the city's ever-present light.

  "It's the best feeling of my life."

  Cyrus chuckled off to the left. "I know what you mean. I feel like we can do anything."

  Anything. That word ran through Warrick's mind over and over again. He stared at the faces of Deron, Marlon, and Cyrus, and though there was unmistakable joy in their eyes, Warrick could tell they did not have the same ambitions he did. His aspirations had grown tremendously in the years it had taken to complete the Pilgrimage.

  Soon he would have to leave his friends behind.

  He might even find himself standing against them.

  That night, he received his third visit from the Spirit of Malavia. He had settled down in a small clearing in the forest just outside the city. Something about the brightness of Luminia had always bothered him. He preferred sleeping outside anyways.

  While he was alone, the spirit came to him.

  "Congratulations," it said. "You are one step closer."

  "Closer to what?" Warrick asked.

  "To world domination."

  Warrick's previous conversations with the spirit rushed back to him. It seemed that he could only recall these conversations when he was engaged with the spirit. Even now, he knew that he would forget whatever he was about to hear, or perhaps Krinir would make it so that Warrick would think all the ideas were his own.

  "I don't want to do this," Warrick said.

  "You have no choice."

  "When do I get to save my parents?"

  "When I decide it's time," the spirit said. "You are not ready yet. I must first grant you a gift. You are skilled at reading the Webs of Fate, are you not?"

  "I learned in my time at the academy."

  "Well, I can allow you to read the Webs of Fate almost as well as I can. Just touch me and the knowledge will be yours."

  Warrick should have resisted, should have refused, but he was tempted by the power that would come with reading the Webs of Fate. If nothing else, he could peer into them and find his parents. Thus far, his skill in reading the Webs was too basic to find them.

  That horrible cold washed over him, but this time he felt ready for it. As soon as the cold died, he could feel the knowledge of the Webs swirling within him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the threads of the Webs and saw them like never before.

  So clear. So beautiful. He ignored the spirit's presence, directing his thoughts toward his parents. Where before the Webs had resisted him, now he followed the threads with ease. Soon he could see them. They were alive—trapped in the Shadowed Land, but very much alive.

  He tried to see their future, but he found darkness where there should have been a strand.

  "I'm afraid I must keep some strands dark," the spirit said. "It is for your own good."

  "You are manipulating me," Warrick said.

  "Of course I am. That is what I do." The spirit let out a laugh that chilled him. "Once again, you shall forget that this conversation ever happened. As you gather an army, you will think it's for your own aspirations, but instead it is for mine. One day, I will be freed from the Shadowed Land, and your army will become mine. So go out. Find those who think like you, those who seek to cling to someone powerful. Find them and enslave them."

  * * * * *

  Warrick stood in a land of mist and shadows. The air felt cool and damp, and it seemed as if the evil in it were smothering him. He pushed those feelings aside, though. He was an immortal sorcerer. The Shadowed Land couldn't present any challenges he couldn't handle.

  A voice in his subconscious had told him not to come here, but he'd ignored it. He'd sought out the Silver Wisp in the ruins of Woodsville, and it had sent him here.

  He would find his parents, and he would find a way back.

  Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done something very foolish. Over the last five years since he'd gained immortality, he had established a new empire in the shadows of Sandersburg. That city had not yet been claimed as part of his empire. His old friend Deron refused to join his quest for equality and a prosperous world.

  What a fool he was. They were all fools. They didn't understand.

  Warrick journeyed across the Shadowed Land, reading the Webs of Fate to guide his path. The threads led him toward Krinir's fortress, deep in the heart of the most dangerous part of the Shadowed Land. But Warrick handled all threats with ease. He was one of the most powerful sorcerers alive, and he would only grow stronger with time.

  When he reached Krinir's fortress, the gates stood open as if welcoming him. He stepped through them, a chill sweeping over him as he took in the black fortress, which looked as if it had been constructed with the bones of some horrible monster.

  In a place like the Shadowed Land, that may have been the case.

  A man stood within the fortress, beckoning him forward. The man looked middle-aged, with a neatly groomed beard. He was entirely unremarkable in appearance, but Darien knew the man's identity. This was Krinir, the most feared man ever to walk Terra.

  "I've been expecting you, Darien," he said.

  "My parents are here." Darien did not phrase it as a question.

  "Yes, they are. If you come inside, you can see them."

  Darien's stomach bubbled as he followed Krinir into the fortress. They entered a large sitting room, where his parents sat in some cushioned chairs.

  "Darien!" his mother said. He rushed forward to hug both of them at the same time.

  "I've missed you all this time," he said, tears of happiness streaming down his face.

  "Yes, it's a very touching reunion," Krinir said. "Too bad it can't last."

  "What do you mean?" Warrick asked, taking a couple of steps toward Krinir. Later, he would wonder what he could have done if he'd stayed between his parents and Krinir. Perhaps he could have protected them, but instead he gave Krinir a clear shot.

  Beams of pure darkness shot from both of Krinir's hands. One attack struck Warrick's mother while the other struck his father. They didn't even have time to scream.

  After only a moment, they hit the ground, their eyes wide in shock.

  "You bastard!" Warrick shouted. He charged toward Krinir, unleashing his own wave of darkness in an effort to kill the god. But Krinir cast a shield, his expression confident and relaxed, as though resisting Warrick cost him nothing.

  "You cannot kill me," Krinir said. "I am too powerful."

  Anger raged within Warrick, and tears poured down his face. He pushed against Krinir's shield with all the energy he could muster, but it accomplished nothing.

  "You didn't have to kill them," he said. "That was just cruel."

  "I am never needlessly cruel," Krinir said. "They had to die. Otherwise, you n
ever could have been what I need you to be."

  "I don't care what you need me to be. I want out."

  "You gave up that chance long ago," Krinir said. "Now, why don't you come closer?"

  "No. I refuse."

  "Stubbornness will not get you anything. Come closer, or I'll make you come closer."

  Ignoring the tears trickling down his cheeks, Warrick stepped toward Krinir. Warrick glared at the god with every bit of hatred he could summon. Krinir smiled casually, as if Warrick's hatred were the game of a silly child.

  And that was when Warrick realized that was exactly how Krinir thought of him, how Krinir thought of everybody. They were all weak compared to him. Nothing.

  "You should thank me," Krinir said. "Today, I am going to make you a god." He placed his hands on each side of Warrick's head, and Warrick offered no resistance. Soon a flood of power swept through him, reminding him of when he'd gained immortality.

  But this was different. He knew, somehow, that he'd been made a god.

  "Congratulations, Darien," Krinir said. "You are now the Creator." He smiled, taking a few steps toward a small table in the corner. "And you have relieved me of a great burden. You see, I have been both the Creator and the Destroyer for a long time. That dual nature is a contradiction, and it has nearly driven me insane."

  Nearly? Warrick thought. But he didn't say anything.

  "Soon your old friends will seek to imprison you within your own empire," Krinir said. "You must allow them to do this. But first I have a mission for you. Now that you are a god, you are powerful enough for this mission. You will go to Luminia and capture Lionar, and you will imprison him in a future of my choosing. Do not try to kill him. That is a dangerous contradiction. A god cannot directly try to kill another god."

  "You're asking a lot of me," Warrick said. "You just killed my parents. Why should I do anything you ask? Maybe I should kill myself."

  "Now that you're a god, you can't do that either. You are mine, forever."

  Once again, Darien knew he would forget much of this conversation. When he returned to Terra, he would think all these plans were his own ideas. If he'd known the consequences for his decision back in the forest, he would have given up on his parents and gone on with his life. Now he was sentenced to a life of serving evil.

  "It is time to send you back," Krinir said. "That comes at a cost, of course. Sending someone out of the Shadowed Land is a contradiction in the very fabric of reality. In your case, the cost will allow me to exert greater control over you, so it's no real cost at all."

  Maybe not to you, Warrick thought bitterly.

  "Come, Darien. You have a mission to fulfill."

  * * * * *

  Warrick had succeeded in the mission Krinir had given him. Now Lionar was imprisoned in the future. His absence would allow Krinir to achieve victory when he did return. In the rare periods of time, when Warrick reasserted a bit of control, he hated what he'd been forced to do.

  On this day, he stood at the edge of Sandersburg. It had resisted his control for too long. He needed to have a conversation with his old friend Deron. The voice of Krinir, lurking in the back of his mind, told him it would not be a conversation.

  No, it would be a slaughter.

  Warrick strode along the city's main thoroughfare, people scattering as he approached. They knew who he was, knew the power he possessed. He wished they didn't hate him so, but there was nothing he could do about it. Krinir was in control, and he always would be.

  Warrick couldn't resist no matter how hard he tried.

  He entered the Hall of Governing, the building Deron called home. A woman sitting at the front desk eyed Warrick suspiciously. "What do you want?"

  "I would like to talk with Deron."

  "He is busy right now."

  "Well, he isn't too busy to see me." Warrick gave her his most dangerous glare, and she shrank away from it.

  "Of course," she said. "I'll tell him you're here."

  She retreated from the room and returned a few minutes later with Deron following. Deron's mouth became a thin line when he looked at Warrick. "What do you want?"

  "It is time to place yourself under my control."

  "That will never happen."

  "I'm your friend," Warrick said. "Don't you trust me?"

  "Not anymore."

  "That's unfortunate." Warrick pointed a finger at Deron, and before Deron could react, a wave of darkness burst from Warrick's fingertips. It was the same spell Krinir had used on Warrick's parents, and when it struck Deron, he died just as quickly.

  The woman from behind the desk screamed, and Warrick killed her too. Reliving these memories, Warrick knew he'd been under Krinir's control at the time, but prior to Tylen's sacrifice, Warrick's own memories had told a different story.

  A story in which he was in complete control of his own actions.

  He knew now that his memories had lied to him, that Krinir had been directing his path the entire time. If anything, that made Warrick more depressed. He'd destroyed so many lives all because he'd been a selfish child who'd longed to see his parents again whatever the cost.

  The memory continued to unfold. Warrick killed everyone he saw as he marched out of the Hall of Governing. He killed even more out on the streets. When he reached the edge of the city, he conjured a spell with which he'd become all too familiar.

  The giant ring of fire sprang to life, encircling the city. It closed in slowly, giving the people within time to experience the terror of their impending deaths. The sorcerers would teleport out of the city, but everyone else would die. Warrick had heard tales of a teleportation chamber deep beneath the city, but no one had ever seen it in living memory.

  Standing at the city's edge, Warrick watched the flames destroy the city.

  Just another day on Krinir's path of destruction.

  * * * * *

  Warrick felt trapped. The magical barrier had come to life around the Empire, confining him within. He knew that staying within the Empire was part of his master plan, part of the path he'd seen in the Webs of Fate.

  Looking back on these memories, Warrick knew the truth. It was all Krinir's doing.

  But he hadn't known that at the time. He'd been blinded by Krinir's manipulations.

  Back then, Warrick had no idea how he created the mountains. Krinir had hidden the fact that Warrick was the Creator. Instead, Warrick thought his powers came from holding the Stone of Creation and the Stone of Destruction, both of which he'd sought out in the years between completing the Pilgrimage and starting his empire.

  The mountains did not rise all at once. He worked for days, using his powers of creation, and soon the mountains stood thousands of feet tall, a physical barrier to match the magical one. In the coming years, he would perpetuate the myth that no one could escape the Empire.

  That would help him expose those who did not share his vision of a better world.

  But it hadn't been his vision. No, it had been Krinir's manipulations. Always.

  * * * * *

  Five hundred years had passed since Warrick had created the mountains. In the days that followed, he found that the magical barrier trapped the chaotic magic of the Darkness Temple. Monsters sprang to life all around the Empire, and strange weather phenomena plagued its citizens. There was only one solution.

  Warrick created regions into which he channeled that chaotic magic. The Plain of Storms, the Black Swamp, the Red Plateau, the desert, the Forest of Darkness, the Fire Mountains. By creating these regions, he protected his subjects from the worst of the chaotic magic. He also created a barrier around dangerous places like Woodsville.

  Woodsville. Where he'd ordered his Imperial Guards to hide one of the scrolls of White Fire. It was a spell he'd discovered when he'd visited the Underground City. He'd left one of its three scrolls where Cyrus would find it—Cyrus who was trapped in the Empire himself.

  He'd hidden the third scroll in the Library of Imperia. Now it was growing close to the time when Nadi
a would set out in search of these scrolls. The spell couldn't truly kill Warrick. It wasn't powerful enough. But he had to perpetuate the myth that he was vulnerable. Otherwise, Nadia would not follow the right path.

  At the time, Warrick had thought this was a path of his own choosing, guided by reading the Webs of Fate. But now that Krinir's spell had been broken, Warrick could see the truth. He'd never truly read the Webs of Fate. Every path had been determined by Krinir, and whenever Warrick threatened to break free from Krinir's control, he received a visit from the Spirit of Malavia. It would destroy Warrick's true memories, leaving him as nothing but a powerful pawn.

  All this time, Warrick had thought he was the one in control.

  But he'd been nothing compared to Krinir.

  * * * * *

  Warrick directed the Ring of Fire toward the ruins of Crayden. He hated what he was doing, but it was necessary for the future. Thousands would die. Men, women, children. He tried not to think about it, tried not to think of all the other people he'd killed.

  It was necessary. That horrible word.

  He couldn't stay there and watch his people die. The spell would sustain itself until the ring closed. Feeling hollow, he crafted a teleportation spell and returned to his palace.

  He sat in the room where he read the Webs of Fate, resting his head on the wooden table with tears streaming down his face. He couldn't do this anymore. The future should not require that so many people die. What kind of man was he that he could do something like this?

  He hadn't even heard the screams, but he could imagine them, imagine the anguish his people felt as the fire consumed them, imagine the heartbreak people like Nadia felt when they looked upon their ruined city and their dead families.

  Dead because of him.

  * * * * *

  Warrick suspected the truth. As he sat in the room where he read the Webs of Fate, staring at dark strand after dark strand, he realized that someone was controlling him, and there was only one logical choice. It had to be Krinir.

  Whenever he gazed at Kara in the Webs of Fate, he felt the spell breaking. She was in the Shadowed Land, struggling to survive, and that was where he had to go.