The winds howled like creatures lost in the night, the moon casting its pale light over the desolate ruins of the ancient fortress. Kael stood alone now, his silhouette carved against the backdrop of the blood-red sky. Sylara's words echoed in his mind, a constant refrain that tugged at his soul.
"I will stop you, Kael. Even if it means standing against you."
Her declaration had left him in turmoil, and yet, it was the blade—its cursed whispers—that gnawed at him relentlessly. The Oathbreaker Blade hummed at his side, as if impatient, as if it too felt the tension in the air. Kael's fingers grazed its hilt, the smooth surface sending a shiver through him. It beckoned him, its dark power promising strength, control, and victory. But at what cost?
Kael's heart weighed heavy with guilt and confusion. The woman he loved, the one person who had stood by him through it all, was now his adversary. He had always known that the blade would be a heavy burden, but he never imagined it would come to this. He had never imagined that the very person he fought for would be the one to stand in his way.
As the night deepened, a shadow fell over Kael. He turned, his instincts on high alert. The blade pulsed with a sudden intensity, its dark power flooding his senses. He wasn't alone.
The figure that emerged from the shadows was cloaked in darkness, its features obscured by the tattered cloak that billowed around it. Its presence was foreboding, a silent promise of death.
Kael's grip tightened on the Oathbreaker Blade. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice steady despite the unease stirring within him.
The figure stepped forward, the cloak parting slightly to reveal a face Kael would never forget. The pale skin, the hollow eyes, and the cruel smile that twisted the lips. It was someone he had seen before, someone he thought was lost to the darkness.
"You didn't think you were the only one to be chosen, did you?" The voice was low, mocking, a whisper in the wind that sent chills down Kael's spine.
Kael's mind raced, trying to place the voice, the figure, but it was like staring into an abyss. There was something about the way the figure moved, the way the shadows seemed to cling to it, that felt all too familiar.
And then, it clicked.
"You," Kael whispered, a sudden realization dawning on him. "You're the one who… betrayed me."
The figure's lips curled into a grin. "Ah, so you remember. Good. I was beginning to think you had forgotten me, Kael." The figure's voice became more venomous. "I see you've come far, but you still don't understand the truth, do you? The Oathbreaker Blade was never meant to be controlled. It was meant to consume, to devour everything in its path—including you."
Kael's heart raced, a mix of anger and confusion surging within him. He had heard of the blade's cursed power, its history of destruction, but he never imagined it would take a form like this—something so personal. This figure, this betrayer, had known him, had once fought beside him.
"Why?" Kael spat. "Why would you betray me? I trusted you."
The figure's eyes gleamed with malicious delight. "Trust is a weakness, Kael. You never understood that. The blade doesn't care about loyalty, or friendship, or love. It only cares about power. And power is what I crave."
Kael felt a sudden chill in the air, the Oathbreaker Blade beginning to hum louder, thrumming with the call of the darkness. The figure in front of him wasn't just an enemy—it was a reflection of the blade's influence, a twisted mirror of the man he had once been.
"You're wrong," Kael said, his voice low but firm. "I won't be like you."
The figure laughed, a cold, hollow sound that echoed through the ruins. "You already are, Kael. You've already taken the first step. You think you can control the blade, but it controls you. And when you realize that, it will be too late."
With a swift motion, the figure raised its hand, and shadows erupted from the ground, twisting and coiling like serpents. Kael was momentarily caught off guard, the shadows reaching for him, wrapping around his legs and arms like iron chains. The Oathbreaker Blade pulsed in his hand, its dark power responding to the attack, but Kael struggled to break free. The weight of the blade was growing heavier, the pull of its curse more intense.
"You can't escape it, Kael," the figure taunted. "It's already too late."
Kael gritted his teeth, the shadows constricting tighter, but he refused to surrender. The whispers of the blade were louder now, urging him to unleash its full power, to embrace the darkness and crush the enemy before him. It was tempting—too tempting. But deep down, Kael knew the cost. He had seen what the blade had done to others, seen the ruins it left in its wake. If he gave in, if he let the blade consume him, there would be nothing left of him—nothing but a hollow shell.
With a roar, Kael summoned every ounce of willpower he had left, forcing the shadows away. The Oathbreaker Blade flared with dark energy, its runes glowing brighter than ever before. The chains of shadow shattered, and Kael lunged forward, swinging the blade with all his might. The figure barely had time to react, its form dissolving into the shadows as the blade cleaved through the air.
But as the figure vanished, Kael felt the full force of the blade's power surge through him. It wasn't just the blade—it was the darkness itself, feeding on his fear, his anger, his doubt. It threatened to consume him completely, to erase everything he had fought for.
Kael's vision blurred, the world spinning around him. The whispers in his mind grew louder, more insistent. "Embrace it," they hissed. "Embrace the power. You are the chosen one. You are meant for greatness."
His breath quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. The blade was almost too much to bear now, its weight crushing him from the inside out. But in the midst of the darkness, he heard a voice. Soft, familiar. Sylara's voice.
"You're still you, Kael."
Kael's hand trembled as he fought against the pull of the blade. He could feel its darkness clawing at him, trying to drag him under. But Sylara's words—her belief in him—kept him anchored to the surface. He was not the blade. He was not the darkness.
He was Kael.
With a final, desperate effort, Kael threw the Oathbreaker Blade to the ground, its dark energy dissipating with a violent pulse. The shadowy figure reappeared, eyes burning with rage, but Kael was no longer the same man. His resolve was stronger than ever.
"I won't let you win," Kael declared, his voice steady.
The figure snarled, its form flickering with anger. "You're a fool. You can't fight destiny."
Kael stood tall, his breath coming in heavy gasps. "Then I'll make my own destiny."
End of Chapter 17