The steps before me stretched out like the path of a verdict. With each step, the sound of my advance echoed through the ancestral corridors of the clan — cold, damp, as old as the intentions of those who built them.
Behind, the clan celebrated in silence. Ahead, the promise of reward.
My father climbed in front of me, slow but steady, leaning on his jade cane. At each flight of stairs, he would turn briefly, casting compliments like crumbs to a dog:
— No Jaegal son has ever achieved something like this… he said. Even Sun, with all his strength, would have failed.
I kept climbing.
— You are cold, calculating… cruel when necessary. A rare trait. Nearly extinct.
Another flight.
— Not even the elders dared to contradict you, did you know? They are frightened. But impressed.
And then I realized.
He was praising me too much. His words came like sweet wine before the poison. He was trying to soften me. Bind me. Mold me.
"He's plotting something."
The suspicion made me more alert, calmer. The plan didn't end with victory.
Finally, we reached the top.
The double doors opened with the heavy creak of old wood, revealing a vast hall lit by blue lanterns hanging from chains that descended from the ceiling. In the center, arranged in circular columns, rested the clan's artifacts — dozens of them. Some sealed in glass, others on cushions of black silk. All had names engraved on jade plaques.
— This is the Hall of Heritage, said the clan leader. Each artifact here has history, weight, and a price. Some were taken from enemies. Others, from graves. Few were created by us.
He stepped away, leaving me in the center.
— Choose one. Just one. And let it be worthy of your name.
I walked among the columns. Not in haste, but with purpose.
The Blade of Endless Blood — sealed in crystal, pulsing as if it had a heart of its own.
The Empty Serpent's Armor — said to nullify all offensive qi. But at the cost of one's voice.
The Eye of Twin Flames — an eye soaked in celestial fire, capable of seeing through deception, illusion… and even intent.
The Ring of the Black Abyss, The Rope of a Thousand Reincarnations, The Mask of the First Traitor, The Needle That Breaks Fates…
Power. Defense. Control. The choice would be easy for anyone else.
But then, I saw it.
Silent, discreet, nearly forgotten between two pedestals of long-lost grandeur: a fine, long quill made of a material that was neither metal, nor bone, nor crystal. White, with a bluish sheen under the light.
The Feather of the Unbreakable Pact.
— This one, I said, extending my hand.
The hall fell into silence.
My father turned, incredulous.
— The Feather of the Unbreakable Pact?
I nodded.
He approached, slow steps, his expression unreadable.
— Do you know what you've chosen?
— I do.
— This feather allows the forging of a single contract. A vow between two parties. If one breaks it, they die instantly. The other, by the pact… must forfeit. Everything. Will, power, rights.
His tone grew harsher with each word.
— It's useless. A weapon that relies on another's word. That only matters if the enemy accepts. It doesn't wound. Doesn't protect. Doesn't dominate!
— But it binds, I replied. And sometimes, binding is deadlier than destroying.
I saw the fury rise in his eyes. Disappointment followed closely behind.
— I expected another choice. Something worthy of a commander. Of a son of mine.
— Precisely because I'm your son, I said, calm, I do not choose as you would.
He fell silent. The tension between us was nothing new, but now it took solid form. The feather in my hand felt light, but I knew… it carried an entire future.
— Then may this choice of yours not doom us, Jaegal… he muttered, …leader of the war.