The fortress loomed against the twilight sky as we returned, its black spires clawing at the clouds. The Blade of Dusk hung heavy at my hip, its faint glow seeping through the scabbard, a constant reminder of the curse I now carried. Lord Valthorne rode ahead, his silence colder than the Blackwood's shadows. My shoulder ached from the mercenary ambush, my pride stung from his mockery, but it was the whisper from the Chapel that haunted me most: You have altered a fixed point in fate. I didn't know what it meant, but it felt like a warning—and I was starting to think Valthorne suspected something too.
The gates groaned open, and we dismounted in the courtyard. Servants scurried to take the horses, avoiding my gaze as if the blade's presence marked me as cursed. Maybe it did. Valthorne dismissed them with a wave, then turned to me, his eyes glinting like polished steel. "Follow me," he said, striding toward the keep.
I obeyed, my boots echoing on the stone. The fortress's halls were grander than I'd realized—vaulted ceilings, tapestries of serpents and storms, torches casting flickering light. Valthorne led me to a smaller chamber, its walls lined with shelves of ancient tomes and strange artifacts. A single table stood at the center, and he gestured for me to place the Blade of Dusk there.
I hesitated, the blade's weight pulling at me. Setting it down felt like surrender, but keeping it felt like defiance. I laid it on the table, the glow pulsing once before dimming. Valthorne circled it, his fingers brushing the air above the hilt, as if sensing its power. Then his gaze shifted to me, sharp and unyielding.
"You've done well, Lira," he said, but his tone held no warmth. "And yet, you're not what I expected."
My stomach twisted. Did he know I wasn't Lira? I forced a neutral expression, channeling her confidence. "What did you expect, my lord?"
He stepped closer, too close, his shadow falling over me. The air thickened, charged with something I couldn't name—danger, curiosity, maybe both. "You fought poorly in the Blackwood," he said, his voice low. "Yet you held the blade without breaking. You're a contradiction."
I swallowed, my pulse racing. His proximity was suffocating, his scent—spice and steel—filling my senses. "I'm your apprentice," I said, meeting his eyes. "I do what you command."
"Do you?" He leaned in, his face inches from mine, his breath warm against my cheek. "Or do you hide something behind those eyes?"
Fear spiked, but I held his gaze, refusing to flinch. Lira wouldn't flinch. "I hide nothing," I lied, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands.
He studied me, his expression unreadable, then stepped back, the tension breaking like a snapped thread. "We'll see," he said, turning to the blade. "Leave it. I'll examine it further."
I nodded, my legs weak as I backed toward the door. His words lingered, heavy with suspicion. He was testing me, peeling back layers to find the truth I couldn't reveal. As I left the chamber, the Blade of Dusk's glow seemed to follow me, a reminder that every choice I made was pulling me deeper into a story I couldn't control.