Kael's POV
Morganna's magic slammed into me like a physical blow.
I raised Elara—the sword, I had to remember she was a sword even though I could feel her terror through our bond—and blocked. Dark energy crackled against steel, throwing me backward.
"Kael!" Elara's voice rang in my mind. "She's not human! Normal fighting won't work!"
"Then what will?"
"I don't know! I watched warriors for three hundred years, not blood mages!"
Morganna laughed, the sound like breaking glass. "How sweet. The sword and the prince, already bickering like an old married couple. It almost makes me sad to kill you."
"Almost?" I rolled as dark magic scorched the ground where I'd been standing.
"Well, I need your death for the ritual, so the sadness is really quite minimal." She advanced, her magic swirling around her like living darkness. "But I am curious about one thing—Soulrend, why did you bond with him? You've rejected every warrior for three centuries. What makes this broken prince special?"
"Maybe I have terrible taste," Elara shot back.
"Hey!" I objected.
"Not now, Kael. Trying to save our lives here."
Morganna's smile widened. "Oh, this is delightful. You two actually care about each other. That will make the torture so much more effective."
She gestured, and invisible hands grabbed me, lifting me off the ground. My fingers locked around Elara's hilt as the magic tried to tear us apart.
"The bond is strong," Morganna observed. "Stronger than it should be after just hours. You've done the memory sharing, haven't you? The Empress's little gift?"
"How do you know about that?" Elara demanded.
"Because my ancestors created that curse, little sword. Every aspect of your existence was designed by my bloodline." Morganna circled us like a predator. "Did you really think the Empress was the first? She was the seventh. Seven souls, seven betrayals, seven failed attempts to create the perfect weapon."
Ice flooded through me. "Seven?"
"The ritual requires specific conditions. A soul murdered by betrayal. A forge of pure hatred. A binding that can only be broken by—well, that would be telling." She tilted her head. "But Soulrend was our masterpiece. The Empress's rage was so pure, so perfect. We thought surely she would create the ultimate wielder."
"Instead she created me," Elara said quietly.
"Instead she created a prison that trapped you both. The Empress's consciousness, then yours, then whoever comes next." Morganna's eyes gleamed. "Unless I complete the ritual. Then all that accumulated power becomes mine. Immortality. Ultimate magic. Everything."
"There's always a mad mage wanting immortality," I growled, fighting against the invisible bonds. "Why can't any of you just accept mortality like normal people?"
"Because normal people die forgotten, Prince Kael. I intend to be remembered forever."
"They'll remember you as a monster."
"I can live with that." She raised her hand, and pain exploded through my body. "Now, let's begin. First, I need to break your bond. Soulrend, release him."
"Never," Elara said.
"I wasn't asking." Morganna's magic intensified, trying to rip Elara from my hand.
But something strange happened. Instead of weakening, our bond grew stronger. I felt Elara's determination, her fury, her absolute refusal to be used as a tool again. And she felt my rage at being called broken, unworthy, weak.
"We're not breaking," I said through gritted teeth.
"No," Elara agreed. "We're really not."
Morganna's smile faltered. "Impossible. The bond shouldn't be this strong yet."
"Maybe you don't know everything about your family's curse," Elara suggested.
Then I felt it—the Empress's Echo stirring inside the blade. The ancient consciousness that had saved my life earlier now whispered secrets I shouldn't know.
The ritual has a weakness, she murmured. A flaw they never found. Use it.
"What weakness?" I thought back.
They designed the curse to bind souls through betrayal. But you two weren't betrayed by each other. You were betrayed by others. Understanding bloomed in my mind. That changes everything.
I looked at Morganna, and suddenly I saw what Elara had learned in three hundred years of observation. I saw the tiny tell in her stance. The slight hesitation before her strongest spells. The way her magic flickered when she was uncertain.
She was powerful. But she was also scared.
"You're not sure this will work," I said.
Morganna's expression hardened. "Shut up."
"The ritual requires willing death, but you can't make someone willing through torture. That's why you're threatening to hurt me—you want Elara to offer herself to save me." I felt Elara's surprise through our bond. "But what happens if we both refuse?"
"Then I torture you both until one of you breaks."
"Except the Empress's Echo is still in there," Elara added, catching on. "Three souls in one blade. Which one are you actually trying to use for your ritual?"
Morganna's magic wavered. Just slightly. Just enough.
"All of them," she admitted. "The ritual needs all three souls to work. The Empress's power, Elara's connection to another world, and—" She stopped.
"And what?" I pressed.
"And the soul of whoever I bind next. The prince's soul completes the cycle. Seven failed attempts, one success." Her magic surged again, angry now. "But I don't need you to understand. I just need you to die."
She struck, and this time I was ready. Elara guided my movement, not with words but with instinct. Our bond had deepened past speech. We moved as one.
I dodged. Countered. Struck back with Elara's blade singing through the air.
We weren't strong enough to beat Morganna. But we were fast enough to frustrate her.
"Stop moving!" she snarled.
"Not really our style," Elara quipped.
We fought, and with each exchange, I learned more. Morganna was powerful but sloppy. She relied on raw strength instead of strategy. Three hundred years of watching warriors had made Elara a better fighter than any blood mage.
But we were still losing. Slowly, inevitably, Morganna's power was overwhelming us.
"Elara," I thought. "I don't think we can win this."
"I know."
"If I offer myself—"
"Don't you dare," she cut me off. "I didn't survive three centuries to watch you throw your life away for nothing."
"It wouldn't be for nothing. It would be for you."
"Kael—"
"I'm already dead anyway. Davian wants me executed. Seraphine destroyed my reputation. I have nothing left."
"You have me."
The words hit like a physical blow. Through our bond, I felt what she meant. Not romance—we'd barely known each other a day. But partnership. Understanding. Someone who finally saw past the prince to the person underneath.
"I can't lose that," she whispered. "Please don't make me lose that."
Morganna's magic crashed down, and I fell. Elara clattered from my hand, and I felt our bond stretch, thinning.
"Finally," Morganna breathed. "Now—"
A sword burst through her chest.
Not Elara. A different blade entirely.
Morganna looked down in shock. "What—"
"Hello, sister." Seraphine stepped out of the shadows behind Morganna, her hand on the blade. "Did you really think I didn't know you were hunting the prince?"
Morganna collapsed, her magic failing.
And Seraphine picked up Elara.
"NO!" I lunged, but Seraphine's guards appeared, pinning me down.
"Thank you for finding Soulrend, dear husband," Seraphine said sweetly, examining Elara like an interesting trophy. "Morganna was going to hog all the power. But I don't need a willing death for my plans. I just need the sword."
"You betrayed your own sister," I gasped.
"Half-sister. And she was going to betray me eventually. I just moved first." She smiled at Elara. "You and I are going to do great things together, little sword. Things that don't require a prince at all."
"Kael!" Elara's voice was distant, fading.
"Elara!"
Seraphine walked away, and I felt our bond stretching, breaking, dying.
After three hundred years of silence, Elara was about to be alone again.
And I couldn't stop it.