Kaelen's boots hit the muddy canal bank with a wet squelch, shadow energy still crackling along the length of Soulrender. The five cultists turned toward him as one, their expressions hidden behind ceremonial masks of polished bone. The woman—the rune mage—stumbled to a halt between him and her pursuers, her blue-lit hands trembling with exhaustion.
"Another lamb to the slaughter," the lead cultist said, his voice carrying an unnatural resonance. "The girl was to be tonight's offering, but the Shadow Lord is generous. He will accept two sacrifices instead of one."
*Two sacrifices*, Soulrender purred in Kaelen's mind. *Or five. Their souls could feed us. Make us stronger. You want strength, don't you, wielder?*
Kaelen ignored the sword's whisper and fell into a fighting stance, muscle memory from years of training overriding his fatigue. "Here's a crazy idea—nobody dies tonight. You creeps go back to whatever hole you crawled out of, and we all forget this happened."
The cultists laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "Ignorant fool. You hold one of the three Forbidden Blades and don't even know what it is. That weapon should be in the hands of the faithful, not some drowning mercenary who stinks of Valorian self-righteousness."
"Funny," Kaelen said, slowly circling to put himself between the cultists and the rune mage. "I was thinking it shouldn't be in anyone's hands. But here we are."
The lead cultist raised his dagger, and shadow magic coalesced around the blade—thick, oily tendrils that seemed to devour the rain before it could touch them. "Last chance, boy. Give us the Soulrender and the girl, and we'll make your death quick."
"Counter-offer," Kaelen replied, feeling the sword pulse in his grip. "Leave now, and I won't have to figure out how this thing works by using you as target practice."
The rune mage had recovered enough to speak, her voice sharp despite her obvious exhaustion. "Are you insane? There are five of them, and they're all channeling shadow magic! We need to run!"
"I'm open to suggestions on where," Kaelen muttered. "In case you didn't notice, we're kind of surrounded."
Before she could answer, the lead cultist attacked.
He moved fast—faster than any normal human should have been able to move—closing the distance in a blur of black robes and shadow energy. His dagger came up in a strike aimed at Kaelen's throat, the dark magic around it howling like a living thing.
Kaelen's body reacted before his mind could catch up. Soulrender swept up in a defensive parry that should have been too slow, too late. But the moment the cultist's dagger met the Soulrender's blade, there was a sound like reality tearing. The shadow magic around the dagger simply ceased to exist, absorbed into the ancient sword's midnight steel.
The cultist's eyes widened behind his mask. "Impossible—"
Kaelen drove his boot into the man's chest, sending him sprawling backward. Energy surged through his arms, through his entire body—not his own strength, but something borrowed, something that came with a price he couldn't yet see. The sword wanted to be used. Wanted to cut, to kill, to feed.
*Yes*, Soulrender sang. *Like that. More. Give us more!*
The other four cultists spread out, forming a loose circle. The rune mage pressed her back against Kaelen's, her hands already moving through complex patterns as she traced glowing symbols in the air.
"I don't suppose you know how to fight?" she asked, her voice tight with concentration.
"Used to be a knight," Kaelen said, watching the cultists warily. "Does that count?"
"A Valorian knight with a Forbidden Blade. That's... contradictory."
"Yeah, well, it's been a weird night."
Two cultists attacked simultaneously from opposite sides. Kaelen twisted left, bringing Soulrender around in a horizontal slash that forced one attacker to leap back. Behind him, he heard the rune mage shout something in a language he didn't recognize, followed by a thunderclap of force that sent the other attacker flying.
"Nice!" Kaelen called.
"Don't celebrate yet!" she shot back. "My mana's almost depleted, and your sword is leaking shadow corruption like a broken faucet!"
"It's what?"
Before she could explain, the lead cultist rose to his feet, shadow magic now pouring from his entire body like smoke. His voice had changed, deepened, as if something else was speaking through him. "Enough games. The Shadow Lord granted me power for nights like this. Behold his glory!"
The cultist's body began to change. His limbs elongated, his spine curved backward at an impossible angle, and his mask fused with his face, becoming part of him. In seconds, the man was gone, replaced by something that was more shadow than flesh—a creature of nightmares with claws like daggers and eyes that burned with purple fire.
"Oh, that's not good," Kaelen muttered.
The transformed cultist lunged with inhuman speed. Kaelen barely got Soulrender up in time to block a slash that would have taken his head off. The impact sent him skidding backward through the mud, his boots leaving deep furrows. His arms screamed in protest—the creature was impossibly strong.
*Use us properly*, Soulrender demanded. *Stop resisting. Let us show you what real power feels like.*
"I don't trust you," Kaelen grunted, deflecting another strike.
*Then die.*
The creature pressed its attack, forcing Kaelen to give ground step by step. Behind him, he could hear the rune mage chanting desperately, her defensive barriers forming and shattering as the other cultists bombarded her with dark magic. They were going to be overwhelmed. They were going to die.
Unless—
"Fine!" Kaelen snarled. "But if you try to take over my body, I'm throwing you back in that canal!"
*Acceptable terms*, the sword replied, and Kaelen felt something unlock inside his chest.
Power flooded through him, cold and terrible and exhilarating. Shadows erupted from his free hand without any conscious command, forming a shield that caught the creature's next attack. The impact that should have broken his arm barely registered. Kaelen could feel the sword feeding him energy—stolen life force, absorbed magic, the accumulated power of everyone who'd ever touched it.
It felt amazing. It felt wrong. It felt like coming home and losing yourself all at once.
"That's better," Kaelen said, and his voice had changed too, deeper, with an echo that shouldn't have been there. "My turn."
He attacked with a speed that matched the creature's, Soulrender becoming a blur of midnight steel. The blade sang as it cut through the rain, through the shadows, through the creature's defenses like they were made of paper. Each strike sent ripples of dark energy crackling through the air.
The creature howled and stumbled back, black ichor leaking from a dozen wounds. "Impossible! You just picked up that blade! You shouldn't be able to—"
Kaelen didn't let it finish. He channeled everything the sword was giving him into a single thrust, driving Soulrender through the creature's chest. There was a sound like breaking glass mixed with a dying scream, and the creature exploded into wisps of shadow that were immediately absorbed into the blade.
*Delicious*, Soulrender purred. *More. Feed us more.*
Kaelen spun toward the remaining cultists, ready to cut them down, ready to—
"Stop!" The rune mage's voice cut through his bloodlust like a bucket of ice water. "Kaelen, stop! They're running!"
He blinked, his vision clearing. The four surviving cultists were indeed fleeing, scrambling over walls and disappearing into the rainy night with the desperate speed of people who'd just seen their leader consumed. The rain washed away the last traces of the creature's ichor, leaving no evidence of the fight except for Kaelen's ragged breathing and the sword in his hand.
The sword that still whispered. Still hungered. Still wanted more.
"Let go of the power," the rune mage said, her voice calm but urgent. She'd moved to stand directly in front of him, her blue eyes meeting his. "Whatever that sword is feeding you, let it go. Now."
"I... I can't," Kaelen said, and realized with horror that it was true. The shadows around his hand had grown thicker, spreading up his arm like living vines. "It won't—"
"Then I'll make you." She pressed her palms against his chest, and symbols blazed to life on her skin—complex runes that glowed with pure, clean light. "Purification sequence: active. Dispel!"
Pain exploded through Kaelen's body. It felt like someone was ripping the shadows out of him with barbed hooks, pulling and tearing and burning. He wanted to scream, wanted to kill her for causing this agony, wanted to—
The power vanished.
Kaelen collapsed to his knees, gasping. The shadows were gone, withdrawn back into Soulrender. His arm where they'd spread was covered in what looked like black veins, slowly fading but not disappearing entirely. His mind was his own again, clear and horrified by what he'd just felt.
"What..." he coughed, then tried again. "What the hell was that?"
The rune mage stood over him, swaying with exhaustion but still on her feet. "That was shadow corruption, stage one. If I hadn't purified you, you would have been halfway to becoming what that cultist turned into." She nodded at the spot where the creature had died. "That sword is one of the three Forbidden Blades, isn't it? Soulrender, the Shadow Lord's personal weapon."
"How did you—"
"Because I'm Lia Thorne, apprentice rune master and specializer in forbidden artifacts." She offered him a hand, though he could see it shaking. "And you, Sir Knight, just became the most wanted man in three kingdoms. Congratulations."
Kaelen stared at her hand for a long moment, then at the sword still clutched in his grip. He could feel it watching him, waiting, patient as only an ancient evil could be. He thought about throwing it away, about running as far and fast as his legs could carry him.
But he'd seen what the cultists could do. He'd heard them talk about the Shadow Lord rising. And if that was true, if that ancient evil was really stirring...
The world was going to need people willing to use dark weapons to fight dark forces. Even if it damned them.
"Kaelen Voss," he said, taking her hand and letting her help him to his feet. "Former Valorian knight, current wanted mercenary, and apparently very recent owner of a cursed sword." He tried for a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "Any chance you know how to use this thing without losing my soul?"
Lia looked at him for a long moment, then at the fading marks on his arm. "Maybe. But the real question is: are you willing to pay the price to find out?"
Somewhere in the distance, bells began to toll. The city guard, finally responding to reports of the fight. Kaelen and Lia looked at each other, two strangers bound together by circumstance and a sword that thirsted for souls.
"I guess we're about to find out," Kaelen said.
Lia nodded grimly. "Then we'd better run. I know a place where we can hide. And talk. And figure out how to keep you from becoming a monster."
"In that order?"
"Definitely in that order."
They ran into the rain-soaked night, leaving behind the canal and the questions and the simple life Kaelen had been barely clinging to. Ahead lay danger, mystery, and a sword that promised power at a price he was only beginning to understand.
Behind him, in the water where Soulrender had first appeared, something else stirred. Something that had been sleeping for three hundred years, now awakened by the blade's emergence.
The hunt had begun.