The Ashen Road was thick with dust and the relentless movement of refugees. They didn't travel in lines of escape anymore; they moved in streams of information.

A woman pulled her two children tight as she passed a lone farmer.

"You're mad to go back," the farmer said.

"It's worse down here. But up there..." The woman looked back. "The whisper is true."

"It's a roar," the farmer muttered. "They're arguing back in the camp. Half are praying for vengeance. The other half says that smith, Joran, told them the old iron won't hold."

"It's not the iron," the mother said. "Dominion chains humans. Chainbreaker freed them. That's all anyone needs to know."

This ideological shift was the true speed of the spreading wildfire. The Chainkeepers' decision to use humans as a "test site" was collapsing the political neutrality of the borderlands.

Ahead of the refugee stream, a patrol of Dominion Shacklers moved with tense caution. Lieutenant Ren, a rigid officer, led the group, furious at Commander Dorn's order to remain discrete and capture Draven alive.

"Find me someone who saw the strike," Ren commanded. "I need mechanics."

They seized a shivering refugee. Ren pressed the rune-etched grip of his Shackler Rod against the man’s chest.

"Tell me exactly what happened to the bindings. Describe them."

"They're phantom shackles, sir," the refugee trembled. "Ghostly iron. Everyone sees them. But when the man—the Chainbreaker—struck?"

"He spoke. He didn't touch the Rod or the beast," the refugee confirmed. "Worse, sir—when he was standing near, the ghostly shackles on the other prisoners felt loose and flickered. It was like his presence was crushing the chains themselves."

Ren's mind, trained to uphold the perfection of the Chainkeepers' rune-tech, seized on that detail. Not a simple spell, but an anti-shackle field created by Draven's mere proximity. This was a systemic, fundamental failure.

He grabbed his coded slate and typed a dense sequence of numerals and symbols—a highly-coded, secondary report intended only for the eyes of Commander Dorn. This officer was now the secret intermediary.

Miles to the west, at the League's heavily guarded Ridgewatch outpost, a patrol of Outriders returned.

Inside the command tent, Cael Brennor (Command) and Theros Kairn (Security) stood over a map. Lysara Valenne (Strategy) watched from the side, silent.

The Outrider Captain delivered his report: "Confirmed destruction of a Dominion patrol. One Rhino, surged to Noble-plus. The chains were gone, not cut. The name is 'Chainbreaker.'"

"A rogue binder," Theros muttered, dismissively.

"Not so simple," the Captain insisted. "The shackles were shattered—and the refugees are spreading a political gospel."

Cael rubbed the scars on his jaw. "Is this a Dominion trap, or is the Chainkeeper's tech failing already?"

Lysara finally spoke, her voice measured. "If his power truly nullifies the bindings by his presence, he is either a massive danger or the answer to a prayer. We need to know which before the Magma Drake wakes again." Her eyes, sharp and calculating, never left the map.

Back at Fort Gairn, Commander Dorn received the two reports. The secret one from Lieutenant Ren detailed the systemic flaw: Draven’s proximity literally weakened the visible, phantom shackles.

Dorn's cold, calculating mind worked instantly. The Chainkeepers had been defeated by a fundamental truth: their infallible rune-system was a lie.

Dorn's loyalty—which had only ever been to efficiency and survival—snapped. The Chainkeepers were vulnerable.

Dorn typed a new, highly-coded sequence. This was his first act of treason.

The message went back to Lieutenant Ren:

"Do not engage. Only observe. Track the Chainbreaker's route. If he moves on a Dominion target, do nothing. Report only to this channel."

Miles away, Draven, Mira, and the powerful Ironhide Rhino traveled toward the next border village. They passed a group of fearful refugees, who stopped, staring openly at the man who broke chains.

Mira’s hand rested on the Silvergale Falcon. "They know you now, Draven. They say the storms are coming for the Chainbreaker."

Draven’s gaze was steady, fixed on the growing darkness of the borderlands. His voice was calm and firm, a simple vow that carried the weight of the new world he was building.

"Let it spread. If hope runs ahead of me, let it run."

The Ironhide Rhino stamped the earth, its horn glowing faintly, declaring its pride in the name.

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