---
The sword had no name.
No sheath.
No master.
No loyalty left to give.
It had been sealed beneath the Temple of Twelve Suns for over four hundred years — bound in chains dipped in star-water, cursed with moon-ink, buried beneath obsidian slabs carved by forgotten monks.
No one was allowed to speak of it.
Except on the night of the Heir's Eclipse.
And tonight, in the stone caverns beneath the capital, Prince Rhaelor stood before it — heart loud, hands still.
---
The High Seer's voice echoed as he chanted the Rite of Memory.
Twelve hooded figures knelt in a circle, breathing in incense thick enough to choke gods.
Only Rhaelor remained standing.
The chained blade lay in the center — long, lean, black as void. Symbols along its edge shimmered like heat mirages. Every inch of it pulsed with ancient pain.
> "The Oathblade," whispered the Seer, "has not chosen a hand in four centuries."
> "Then why bring me here?" Rhaelor said, jaw tight.
The Seer's breath caught. He studied the prince with eyes like clouded silver.
> "Because it calls to you."
---
Rhaelor didn't believe in fate.
Not really.
But when he stepped forward — just one step — the chains shivered.
A moan of metal rang out across the chamber, as though the blade were exhaling.
Or weeping.
The priests gasped.
> "Don't touch it!" barked one.
But Rhaelor ignored them.
Something beneath his ribs screamed for it.
Something ancient.
Something that wasn't his voice.
He reached out.
---
The moment his fingers grazed the hilt, everything changed.
He wasn't in the temple anymore.
He was standing in a ruined hall beneath a blood-red sky.
A woman knelt before him — long braids soaked in fire, her hands bound, her face bruised but defiant.
> "You swore," she whispered.
And in his hand — the same black blade.
But now dripping with blood.
Her blood.
---
Rhaelor staggered back into the present, panting. His hand burned. His pupils had dilated like he'd swallowed thunder.
The High Seer was pale.
> "What did you see?"
> "A woman," Rhaelor rasped. "In chains. I had this blade. I… I killed her."
The silence that followed was thick and dreadful.
Then the Seer spoke just one word:
> "Kaelren."
---
That night, in the desert, Siyara jolted upright from sleep, fingers curling into fists.
> The blade.
The betrayal.
The oath.
She remembered it now.
Not fully.
But the wound was returning.
And in her chest — fire.
---
End of Chapter 6
---