Blade of the Fallen Kingdom

Chapter 5 – The Cloaked Stranger

The chamber seemed to shrink as the cloaked man’s voice echoed against the damp stone. Survivors whispered uneasily, shuffling back as if his very presence carried poison. His hood shadowed most of his face, but the smirk was unmistakable—mocking, confident, dangerous.

Kael instinctively shifted his grip on the Blade. Every instinct screamed to draw it, to silence the stranger before he could spread doubt. The Blade itself hissed eagerly in his mind. Yes… unsheathe me. One stroke and his words end forever.

But Mira stepped forward first, hand on her sword. “Who are you? Speak quickly before I cut your tongue out.”

The man chuckled, low and cruel. “So fierce, and yet so blind. Do you not see what stands before you? That Blade is no salvation. It is the doom of this kingdom. And the boy holding it will bring ruin to us all.”

Gasps rippled through the chamber. Some nodded nervously, others shook their heads in denial. Children clutched at their mothers. The fragile hope that had begun to stir now teetered on the edge of collapse.

Kael’s pulse thundered. He wanted to shout, to deny it, but doubt gnawed at him. Hadn’t the Blade already whispered dark promises? Hadn’t it already urged him toward blood?

“I said—who are you?” Mira’s voice cracked like a whip.

The man lifted his head slightly, enough for torchlight to catch his eyes—pale, almost glowing. Not natural. Not human.

“I am Varic,” he said finally, his tone dripping with disdain. “Once a scholar of the High Court, before your kings ignored my warnings. I studied the Blade when others worshipped it. And I learned the truth—that it is cursed. It does not choose rulers. It chooses victims.”

A stunned silence followed.

Kael’s throat went dry. “Lies.”

Varic smirked. “Then why does it whisper to you, hmm? Why do you clutch your skull when its voice claws into your mind? Tell them, boy. Tell them how it speaks!”

Kael froze. His secret—dragged into the open like filth. Faces turned toward him, wide-eyed, fearful. Mira’s gaze tightened, searching his.

“…Kael?” she asked softly.

The Blade throbbed in his hand, furious, snarling. Do not admit it. Strike him down. Show them your strength.

Kael’s lips parted, the truth trembling there.

Before he could speak, Varic raised a hand. The torches sputtered. Shadows lengthened unnaturally, twisting like snakes along the walls. Whispers hissed from the dark, too many voices to belong to him alone.

Mira’s sword sang free of its sheath. “Sorcery.”

Varic laughed again. “Sorcery? No, girl. Knowledge. Power. And soon, you’ll see what the Blade has already cost you.”

Then he snapped his fingers.

The shadows writhed—and from them stepped figures cloaked in blackened armor, the same faceless soldiers Kael and Mira had seen above. Their blades gleamed like obsidian, their movements unnervingly silent.

Screams erupted. Survivors scrambled, clutching their children, pressing back against the cavern walls.

Mira shoved Kael. “Protect them! I’ll hold the front!”

Kael drew the Blade at last. It shrieked in his mind with triumph, as if it had been waiting for this moment. Power surged through his veins, hot and intoxicating. His body felt lighter, faster. The world sharpened to crystal clarity.

The first soldier lunged. Kael swung instinctively. The Blade met black steel—and cleaved through it as though cutting cloth. The soldier fell, his body collapsing into smoke before it even struck the ground.

The Blade laughed in his mind, wild and exultant. Yes! More! Feed me!

Kael stumbled, shaken by the rush, but another soldier charged. He cut again—effortless, brutal. Smoke. Gone.

Mira fought beside him, blade flashing, but unlike him she struggled. Her sword sparked against their dark armor, barely denting it. “Kael!” she shouted between strikes. “It’s you! Only you can kill them!”

The realization chilled him. The survivors screamed, cornered by advancing shadows. If he didn’t fight, they would all die. If he did fight—he would surrender more of himself to the Blade.

Varic watched from the rear, arms crossed, smirk widening. “Yes… wield it. Let it hollow you out. Let it devour you.”

Kael roared, slashing, spinning, cutting through the faceless ones. Each strike sent a shiver of dark energy crawling along his spine. He fought like a storm, too fast, too sharp. Fear spread among the survivors, even as he saved them. Their eyes no longer looked at him as a boy with a sword—but as something other. Something dangerous.

At last, the final soldier dissolved into smoke. The chamber stank of ash and fear. Survivors huddled together, whispering prayers.

Kael stood panting, Blade dripping with shadows that weren’t blood. His hands trembled. He wanted to drop it, but his fingers wouldn’t let go.

Mira approached slowly. “Kael… are you—”

“Do you see?” Varic interrupted, stepping forward again. Not a drop of sweat marred his brow. His pale eyes gleamed with triumph. “This is what I meant. The Blade feeds on him. Today he slays shadows. Tomorrow he slays you.”

“No!” Kael snarled, voice breaking. “I fought to protect them!”

“Exactly,” Varic purred. “And that is how it begins. You will tell yourself it’s for protection. For justice. For revenge. And by the time you realize the truth, you’ll be a puppet dancing on its strings.”

The Blade hissed in Kael’s head, furious, commanding. Kill him now. He weakens you. Kill him!

Kael staggered, clutching his temple. The voices clashed—Varic’s, the Blade’s, his own. He felt torn in three directions, his chest about to split.

Mira lifted her sword, stepping between Kael and the stranger. “Enough. You brought your monsters into this refuge, and you dare call yourself a scholar? Leave, before I carve your heart out.”

Varic’s smirk never faltered. “You cannot kill me. Not yet. But soon, you’ll wish you had listened.”

And with that, he stepped back into the shadows. They swallowed him whole, leaving nothing but the faint hiss of his mocking laughter.

The chamber fell silent again, broken only by the sound of frightened sobs.

Kael stared at the Blade in his hand, trembling. It still pulsed with dark warmth, eager, hungry.

And for the first time, he wondered if Varic was right.

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