Read Aethosphere Chronicles: Storm of Chains for Free Online Page A

chirped and the rising sun painted the sky outside his
bay windows in shades of pink. Drish was surprised that the
elemental fury of the blizzard had abated to a lingering squall of
flakes whirling over a still city, but the damage it had wrought
was done, and the world laid smothered beneath a blanket of ice and
snow.
    Drish thought about his father, how he had
been so concerned about all the others on the list, but had ignored
his own son’s plight. Now, more than ever, Drish realized he was on
his own. He couldn’t count on his father—not that he really ever
had—nor did he want to. Growing up, Arvis was absent most of the
time anyway, and it was his grandmother who swooped in to mother
his fledgling, noble sensibilities. As to why his father was never
around, even in the blissful days of the Unity, was a topic
never discussed, but the sting remained, and fed the pain of the
ex-noble’s convictions. He knew he was going to have to take care
of himself if he wanted to escape this situation, and so Drish
began to formulate a plan that would best free him from this
nightmare.
    Extremes came to mind, like suicide, but the
noble didn’t have a gun or poison, and when he held a blade to his
wrist it seemed laughable to think of slashing his own flesh. Death was precisely what he was trying to avoid, and he
quickly abandoned any thoughts of self-inflicted murder. So that
left escape, but how? Run , but where would he run to—and how
would he run there? Would the insurgency help him? Thinking of
asking those thugs for help was akin to asking his father for help
though, and somehow that seemed worse than death.
    So there he was, left without any tangible
plan. If only Domaire had never shown him the accursed list in the
first place, at least then, when the authorities came to arrest
him, they would see sheer ignorance staring back at them.
Befuddlement in that degree would’ve been proof enough of Drish’s
innocence, but Domaire had robbed him even of that. If the Empire
were to question him they’d surely discover he was lying. So then
what? He could tell them he knew about the list… that his inclusion
on it was a simple mistake. Then again, that would bring up the
question of how he came to know about it in the first place, and
then that would implicate Domaire. That was the last thing he
wanted? Or was it? The last thing Drish actually wanted was
to be executed, or imprisoned, so in that respect, he didn’t really
care one damn bit about Domaire’s fate.
    Suddenly it dawned on him how he would
escape this terrible injustice. It was laughably childish; he would
use the unflinching truth to vindicate himself. It didn’t matter
who he destroyed doing it; it was their own fault anyway. He was
simply in the eye of a great storm of conspiracies and crimes
perpetrated by those around him. He owed those involved nothing;
and if anything, they owed him, for dragging him down into their
nightmare world of violence and intrigue.
    Drish sat at his office desk, with the large
bay window to his back, and as the sun rose over the rows of
townhouses and snow-swept streets, he set pen to paper. The noble’s
mind was blank at first, but as the sun’s warmth gently caressed
his shoulders the words began to take form.
    ‘ To whom it may concern’ , he scrawled
as the morning brightened from pink to orange, and from there on
out both the light and his words only grew bolder. He wrote slowly
and deliberately at first, and then at a rapid pace as his hands
sought to keep up with his internal monologue. The words flowed so
easily that Drish knew he was doing the right thing. He explained
his choice to take the Oath of Allegiance; the falling out with his
father over the matter; his employment at the compound when he’d
proved his worth; his father’s release and how it only renewed
tensions; and finally, how he’d given his father an allowance as a
means to separate their lives. Drish had no idea that the money was
going to the