Kael turned the fragment over in his palm.
It wasn't just talking anymore. It was thrumming. Low, steady pulses vibrated up his arm, slow and deep like a war drum echoing from a buried cathedral. He could feel it beneath his fingernails. In the base of his skull.
"You sound like a parasite," he muttered.
"I am a tool," the Core said. "Used improperly, yes. Like you."
His eyes narrowed. "You know nothing about me."
"I know you are broken. And angry. And full of the kind of rage no divine power could ever harness properly. That is why they laughed."
Kael was silent.
Then, carefully: "If I bind you... what happens to me?"
"You become the sheath to a blade they buried a thousand years ago. You will suffer. You will change. You may lose what you think makes you human. But you will win."
Kael looked down at the fragment.
The glow in its cracks had intensified. Not bright, but deep—like staring into lit coal, or a dying star. There was power there. Ancient, unrepentant, predatory. And yet it spoke to him like an equal.
A partnership.
A deal between monsters.
He held the fragment to his chest. "What do I have to do?"
"Accept me. Break the seal. Let me feed."
Kael closed his eyes.
He thought of Thorne's grin. Of the laughter in the arena. Of the goddess who looked at him like he was a mistake. Of the priest's bored voice. Of the gods in their thrones.
He opened his eyes.
"I accept."
The shard flared.
His hand burned.
A scream—not his own—ripped through the room, echoing off every stone, vibrating the chains on the wall until they cracked.
The black shard dissolved into light. That light bit him—sank into his palm like a brand. He staggered back as black glyphs bloomed up his arm, circling his skin like tattoos made of ink and nightmare.
His breath hitched.
And then he heard it.
Not a whisper.
Not a thought.
A voice, fully awakened. Female. Low. Commanding.
"You are mine now, Kael Riven. And they... will learn fear again."
Kael's lips twisted into something half-smile, half-sneer.
"Good."