Blade of the Silent Oath

Tracks in the Ashes

 

The road east of Moonveil was nothing but wet earth and wheel ruts, the morning fog clinging low enough to lick at the horses’ legs. Kael Ruan rode at the front, his cloak drawn tight, eyes scanning the mist-shrouded horizon. Liara Fen rode beside him, silent but watchful.

Behind them, Joren and Matsu followed with the packhorse carrying provisions, maps, and the few Soulsteel shards Kael had kept. Every time the wind shifted, the fragments gave off a faint, metallic whisper, like something trying to form words it had long forgotten.

Renji had not wanted him to leave the city. “The Oath doesn’t bind you to chase shadows,” the old master had said. But Kael knew the truth: if he didn’t follow the trail now, the Emperor would choose the time and place of their next meeting  and Moonveil would bleed for it.

---

The map Liara carried was marked with a single red circle: Ashen Hollow, a village abandoned two winters ago after a mine collapse poisoned the wells. Renji’s informant claimed caravans had been seen heading there under cover of night, wagons heavy enough to sink into the rutted roads.

“Do you believe it?” Liara asked quietly as they passed a stand of leafless poplars.

Kael kept his eyes on the road. “I believe the Emperor wants us looking in the wrong place. Which is why we have to check it anyway.”

---

By midday, the fog had thinned, revealing a barren stretch of hills. The Hollow lay beyond them, marked by the blackened stumps of trees long since cut for fuel. The air here was dry, almost brittle, carrying the faint scent of burnt stone.

The village itself was a skeleton  half-collapsed huts, doors hanging open, roofs sagging inward. A rusted water pump stood in the center, surrounded by weeds.

Joren dismounted first, his boots crunching on the grey earth. “Looks dead enough.”

“Things that look dead don’t always stay that way,” Kael said, sliding from his saddle. The Oath’s presence inside him sharpened, as if scenting something in the air.

---

They moved in pairs, searching each structure. Most were empty but for broken furniture and drifting dust. Then Liara called from the far side of the square.

“Kael.”

He found her standing in what had once been the largest building  perhaps the village hall. The floor was scorched in a perfect circle, the wood blackened but unbroken. At its center lay a deep, narrow pit, lined with stone.

From its depths came a faint, steady hum.

---

Kael knelt at the edge, peering into the darkness. The walls were slick with moisture, but the hum was unmistakable  the same low vibration that had come from the Soulsteel ingots.

“This wasn’t a mine,” he said. “It’s a forge.”

Joren swore softly. “Who forges Soulsteel this close to the surface?”

“Someone who wants the stench to reach far enough to draw him in,” Kael said.

---

They descended by rope, the air growing colder with every step. At the bottom, the space widened into a chamber of worked stone. Piles of ash covered the floor, and in the center sat an anvil slick with something darker than soot.

Matsu crouched, brushing the ash aside with the edge of his gauntlet. Beneath it lay bones — small ones, long ones, shattered ones. The metal tang in the air was stronger here, threading into Kael’s throat until it tasted like iron.

Then the shadows shifted.

---

From the corners of the chamber, shapes began to rise — thin, angular, their limbs too long. Eyes flared pale within the dark, fixed on the intruders.

“Oathbearer…” The voice slithered through the room, not from any single shape, but from all of them at once.

Kael drew his sword, the Oath flaring in response.

[Oath Energy: +5]

Liara moved to his left, Joren and Matsu to his right. The shapes came forward in silence, their movements jerky but swift. Kael’s first strike split one from shoulder to hip; it dissolved into smoke that curled back toward the pit’s walls.

Another lunged at Liara, claws scraping sparks from her daggers. She twisted away, cutting low, severing its legs before driving her blade through its throat.

---

The fight was quick but heavy, each blow landing with the weight of something older than the stones underfoot. When the last shape collapsed, the hum from the forge had deepened to a steady, throbbing pulse.

Kael stepped toward it. On the anvil lay a single ingot  larger than any they had seen, its veins glowing faintly red instead of pale.

The Oath’s voice was a whisper against his ear. “Core Fragment detected.”

[Oath Energy: +20]

[Core Blade Slot – Shadowsteel Unlocked]

The ingot’s glow dimmed as he touched it, and the System’s cold confirmation slid through him like icewater.

---

The chamber shuddered. Fine cracks split the walls, dust sifting from above.

“You’ve taken from me,” the Emperor’s voice said, low and steady. “Do you think that makes you strong? It makes you mine.”

Kael sheathed the ingot in his pack, stepping back toward the rope. “If you want it, come and take it.”

The laugh that followed was not human  not even close.

They climbed fast, the rope swaying under their weight. By the time they reached the surface, the air was thick with the scent of ash.

---

The horses stamped nervously as they mounted. No one spoke until the village was a distant shadow behind them.

Finally, Liara said, “That ingot  it’s different.”

Kael nodded. “It’s a key. I don’t know to what, but the Oath wants it. That means the Emperor wants it more.”

Joren glanced back toward the Hollow. “Then what happens when he gets it?”

Kael didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The wind shifted, carrying the faint echo of that inhuman laugh, and every one of them knew the race had just narrowe