The Stormblade's laughter echoed in Kael's skull, a sound like cracking bones and distant thunder.
*"You didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"*
Kael clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. *Shut up.*
But the sword didn't listen. It *never* listened.
Sera watched him, her silver armor glinting in the torchlight. "You hear it, don't you?"
Kael didn't answer. He didn't have to.
The rebels around them shifted uneasily. One of them—a wiry man with a scarred lip—muttered, "He's already gone."
Kael's lightning flared. "Say that again."
The man paled.
Sera stepped between them. "Enough." She grabbed Kael's arm, her grip iron. "You want to save your sister? Then *focus.*"
Kael yanked free. "You don't get to give me orders."
"No?" Sera's smile was cold. "Then tell me—how long before the Stormblade *takes* you?"
Kael didn't answer. He didn't have to.
The rebels around them shifted uneasily. One of them—a wiry man with a scarred lip—muttered, "He's already gone."
Kael's lightning flared. "Say that again."
The man paled.
Sera stepped between them. "Enough." She grabbed Kael's arm, her grip iron. "You want to save your sister? Then *focus.*"
Kael yanked free. "You don't get to give me orders."
"No?" Sera's smile was cold. "Then tell me—how long before the Stormblade *takes* you?"
The words hung in the air like a blade over his neck.
Because she was right.
He could *feel* it.
The hunger.
The *anger.*
The way his veins darkened with every pulse of lightning.
Lysara's voice, weak from the cot behind them: *"Kael..."*
He turned.
She was alive—barely. Her skin was ashen, her breathing ragged. But her eyes—sharp as ever—locked onto his.
*"Don't... trust it."*
Then her gaze flicked to Sera.
*"Or her."*
Sera scoffed. "Charming."
Kael knelt beside Lysara. "What do you know?"
She swallowed, her voice a whisper. *"The relics... they're not just weapons. They're *alive.*"*
A chill crawled down Kael's spine.
The Stormblade purred.
*"She's smarter than you."*
Sera tossed a rusted journal onto the cot—one Kael hadn't seen before.
"Read it."
Kael flipped it open. The pages were brittle, the ink faded, but the words were clear:
*"The Stormblade is not a tool. It is a vessel. And it is hungry."*
—*Research Log #47, Imperial Archivist Veldris*
Kael's pulse spiked. "What the hell does that mean?"
Sera exhaled sharply. "It means the Empire didn't just *steal* the relics. They *experimented* on them." She pointed to the Stormblade's mark on Kael's forearm—a jagged lightning bolt, now pulsing black. "That's not a blessing. It's a *brand.*"
Kael's stomach twisted.
*"She's not wrong,"* the Stormblade mused. *"But she's missing the best part."*
Lysara's fingers brushed his wrist. "Kael... the blade wants something. *Ask it.*"
Kael hesitated. Then, silently:
*What do you want?*
The Stormblade's answer was immediate.
*"Freedom."*
And then—
*BOOM.*
The ground *heaved.*
Stone rained from the ceiling as the far wall *exploded* inward.
Through the dust, a figure emerged—
*Dain.*
Bloodied. Smiling.
And holding a *second relic.*
A crown of writhing shadows.
*"Miss me?"*
Chaos erupted.
Rebels drew swords. Sera nocked an arrow.
Kael's lightning surged—
But Dain just *laughed*, slamming the shadow-crown onto his head.
Darkness *swirled* around him, tendrils of night lashing out like whips. A rebel screamed as one touched him—his skin *rotted* on contact.
Sera's arrow flew—
Dain *caught* it midair, the shaft crumbling to ash in his grip.
*"Sorry, love. But I'm here for *him.*"* He pointed at Kael.
The Stormblade *shrieked* in Kael's mind.
*"KILL HIM!"*
Kael didn't need convincing.
He *lunged.*
Lightning met shadow in a deafening *crack*, the force throwing them both back. Kael rolled, his vision swimming.
Dain was already up, the crown's power writhing around him. *"You really think you can win? The Empire's been playing you from the start."*
Kael spat blood. "You're working for them."
*"Wrong."* Dain's grin turned feral. *"I'm working for *me.* And this?"* He tapped the crown. *"Is my ticket out."*
Then—
A *knife* sprouted from Dain's throat.
He gagged, staggering—
Lysara stood behind him, her arm still extended, her face pale with pain.
*"That's... for stabbing me."*
Dain collapsed.
The crown *rolled*—
And *stopped* at Kael's feet.
The shadows *hissed*, reaching for him.
The Stormblade *howled.*
*"TAKE IT."*
Kael stared at the crown.
The shadows *whispered.*
*"We could be *unstoppable.*"*
Sera shouted, *"Don't touch it!"*
Lysara reached for him. *"Kael, *listen* to me—"*
But the Stormblade was *loud.*
*"You want to save your sister? To burn the Empire to the ground? *This is how.*"*
Kael's fingers twitched.
One relic had already marked him.
What would *two* do?
He reached down—
And the world *shattered.*