Page 29 of She Who Was Severed

Clatters against stone, retracts with a hiss.

I laugh—soft and breathless. “Okay,” I whisper. “That’s new.”

I try again. Then again. The chain answers—awkwardly at first, but then with small precision. It doesn’t strike. Not yet. But it learns. And so do I.

My palms are raw after twenty minutes. My body sore from bracing, falling, realigning. But I don’t stop. I’ve never had something that listened before. Not like this.

By the time I shift into the second stance—Sever—my heartbeat has slowed into something rhythmic. Present. Real.

This stance is meant to disconnect—not from the chain, but from distraction. It’s how the user pulls their will inward. Protects the mind.

The Severed cannot anchor in the old ways. You must build your root in loss. Let it hold you. Then cut it free.

The words punch harder than they should.

But I follow the instruction. I close my eyes. Picture my fear—of the priests, of the council, of being dragged into light I didn’t choose—and then I slice the vision clean in half.

The chain flares. Once.

Then it calms.

I’m not crying. Not really.

But the dirt beneath me is wet.

I shift forward into Coil. It’s harder. More physical. A stance meant for mobility, reaction. The manual says:

Coil is anticipation. Movement not yet made. Attack not yet chosen. Train the body to curl. To compress. To wait until the break.

My muscles ache. My back protests. But I hold it.

Then I strike.

The chain lashes forward again. Not in a full arc—just a pulse. It grazes the target this time. The branch tumbles sideways.

My grin is real now.

I keep going.

Hours pass.

The sun shifts.

Somewhere in the distance, a prayer bell rings. I think of Kellen. Of the trial. Of the way his voice cut through the priests’ silence.

But that’s outside.

In here—it’s just me.

And the chain.

I collapse back onto the ground, breath ragged. The manual rests beside me, open to the final passage of the first chapter. A warning.

The second link awakens in response to challenge. Do not seek it before the chain is ready. Most fail. Few survive. The Ashen Path does not care for potential. Only obedience.

I stare at the words.

Then up at the sky.