The moon hung high, pale and full, casting ghostlight across the spires of Kaelthorn. Kaelen couldn't sleep—not that he'd dared to close his eyes. Every time he blinked, the blade whispered. Not in words, but in symbols, fragments, memories that weren't his.
Down in the hidden hearth, the sword pulsed faintly. Not with light, but with heat. The kind that pressed against your thoughts and made your blood feel too thick. He sat across from it, cross-legged, breath shallow, as if afraid to inhale too deeply and awaken something worse.
"I know you're awake."
The voice didn't come from Elira.
It came from the shadows.
Kaelen shot to his feet, grabbing the blade by instinct. The cloth burned away at his touch, and the red glow flared alive—just as he stepped into the room.
Tall. Cloaked in onyx and crimson. Armor like sculpted bone and ash, etched with a language Kaelen couldn't read but somehow understood. And his sword—twins to Kaelen's—burned with the same cursed fire. But this man wore his power like a crown.
"You felt the pull," the stranger said, voice like iron scraping across coals. "You answered. As I once did."
Kaelen tightened his grip. "Who are you?"
The man stepped forward, the shadows parting like obedient beasts. "A reflection. A warning. Or, if you're clever enough... a mentor."
Kaelen didn't lower the blade. "I didn't ask for any of this."
"You were born into it." He tilted his head. "Blood of the dusk line. Bound to the blade forged at the world's end. The question isn't whether you asked. The question is whether you'll survive what's coming."
Kaelen's heartbeat pounded in his throat. "What is coming?"
The stranger's eyes, hidden beneath his hood, seemed to flare crimson. "The Hollow Court stirs. The Seals of Silence are breaking. You woke the blade… and now they will come for it."
Elira's voice cut through the tension from the stairwell. "He's not alone."
She stepped into the light, daggers at her hips, defiance in her stance.
The figure gave her a long, unreadable look. "Good. You'll need allies."
Then, to Kaelen, "But not all of them will be loyal. And not all of them will be human."
Kaelen narrowed his eyes. "And you? What are you?"
The stranger paused.
Then, he pulled down his mask.
Kaelen gasped.
He was looking at himself—older, scarred, and hollow-eyed. A future that had bled and burned.
"I am what you become," the man said, "if you choose the blade over the light."
And with that, the shadows twisted around him, and he vanished like smoke.
Silence fell.
Kaelen stared at the empty space, Elira's breath tight behind him.
"I don't think we can run from this anymore," he whispered.
Elira nodded slowly. "Then we learn to fight."
And beneath the stone, the blade pulsed again—quicker, stronger.
Because the war had already begun.