Elara's POV
The guard died before he realized what hit him.
"Left shoulder, upward thrust!" I guided Kael's strike. "See? He dropped his guard exactly where I said he would."
"You could have warned me about the blood," Kael gasped, staring at the fallen man.
"It's combat. What did you expect, roses?" Two more guards crashed through the trees. "Behind you! Sweep low!"
Kael moved, and I felt something click. His muscle memory plus my observations created something neither of us could achieve alone. The guards fell.
"This is wrong," Kael said, breathing hard. "These men served the Empire. They're just following orders."
"They're trying to kill you."
"Because they think I'm a traitor."
"Then prove you're not by surviving." More footsteps. Five guards this time. "We can feel guilty later. Right now—MOVE!"
We fought like a storm—Kael's strength combined with my three-hundred-year knowledge of every fighting style that had passed through the Forbidden Depths. I called out attacks before they came. He executed perfectly.
It was beautiful.
It was terrifying.
It was exactly what I'd dreamed about during those endless centuries alone.
"Block high, counter low, spin right—NOW!" The guard's sword whistled past Kael's head. "Throat strike! Finish it!"
Another guard down.
"How are you doing this?" Kael demanded between fights. "You said you were a curator, not a warrior!"
"I watched warriors for three hundred years! I studied every mistake, every victory, every—DUCK!"
He ducked. An arrow skimmed his hair.
"Archers," I hissed. "In the trees. We need to move."
"There's nowhere to go!"
"Yes there is. Trust me."
I guided him through the forest using senses he didn't have. I could feel the magical energy in everything—trees, rocks, even the air itself. Three centuries of existing as pure consciousness had taught me to read the world in ways humans couldn't.
"Left. No, YOUR left. Humans are so directionally challenged."
"Maybe if you had an actual body to point with—"
"Don't sass the magic sword keeping you alive!"
Despite everything—the danger, the exhaustion, the blood—Kael laughed. "You're insane."
"You already said that."
"It bears repeating."
We reached a cliff edge. Below, a river raged. Behind us, twenty remaining guards closed in.
"Please tell me you have a plan," Kael said.
"Jump."
"WHAT?"
"You wanted a plan. That's the plan. Jump."
"It's a hundred-foot drop into rocks and rapids!"
"Which is better than twenty swords in your back." I paused. "Also, I'm a magical sword forged from an empress's soul. I'm not going to let you die in a river. That would be embarrassing for both of us."
"This is your solution? Trust the magic?"
"Trust me," I corrected. "There's a difference."
Kael looked back at the approaching guards, then down at the river. "I'm going to regret this."
"Probably. Jump anyway."
He jumped.
And I called on power I didn't know I had. The Empress's magic surged through my blade, wrapping around Kael like invisible armor. We hit the water, but instead of shattering on rocks, we cut through it like—well, like a sword through water.
The current carried us downstream, away from the guards, away from danger.
When Kael finally dragged himself onto the shore, he was laughing and coughing simultaneously. "You're absolutely insane!"
"You keep saying that like it's a bad thing."
"Because it is!" But he was grinning. "We just fought thirty guards and jumped off a cliff."
"We survived thirty guards and jumped off a cliff," I corrected. "There's a difference."
Kael lay back on the mud, staring at the sky. Through our connection, I felt his exhaustion, his pain, his weird mixture of terror and exhilaration.
"I've been hunted for three months," he said quietly. "Hiding. Running. Scared. But fighting with you? That's the first time I felt powerful since everything fell apart."
"Good." I meant it. "Because we're just getting started. Seraphine, Matthias, Davian—they think you're broken. We're going to show them exactly how wrong they are."
"By jumping off more cliffs?"
"If necessary."
He smiled, closing his eyes. "Three hundred years trapped in a cave, and you still have a sense of humor. How?"
The question caught me off guard. "I... I don't know. Maybe it was that or go completely mad." I paused. "Or maybe I was always a little mad. Marcus used to say I loved swords more than people. Turns out he was right—just not how he meant."
"He was wrong," Kael said firmly. "You don't love swords more than people. You loved the history in them. The stories. The lives they represented."
"How would you know?"
"Because I can feel your memories now, remember? I saw how you looked at every blade in your collection. You weren't collecting trophies. You were saving stories."
Tears would have come if I had eyes. Instead, something warm and painful twisted through my consciousness. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For understanding something I never could explain to anyone."
"Well, you're stuck in my head now. Understanding is kind of mandatory."
We shared a moment of quiet—the first peace either of us had felt in a long time.
Then I felt it.
A presence. Watching us. Ancient and powerful and definitely not human.
"Kael," I whispered. "We're not alone."
He sat up immediately, reaching for me. "More guards?"
"Worse. Much worse."
The air shimmered, and a figure materialized from nothing. Not walking, not appearing—just suddenly existing where nothing had been before.
She looked like starlight given form. Beautiful. Terrible. Wrong in ways that made my blade vibrate with warning.
"Crown Prince Kael Ashenblade," the figure said, her voice echoing strangely. "And the Soulrend blade. How interesting."
"Who are you?" Kael demanded.
"I am Seraphine's sister." The figure smiled, and it was like watching ice crack. "Well, half-sister. The one our father doesn't talk about. The one with actual power instead of just ambition."
"Lady Morganna," I whispered, recognizing her from the sword's ancient memories. "The Blood Mage."
"Very good, little sword." Her smile widened. "I've been looking for you for a very long time. Three hundred years, in fact."
My blade went cold. "What do you want?"
"The same thing my ancestors wanted. The same thing that got the Empress killed and turned into you." Morganna's eyes glowed with dark magic. "I want to complete the ritual they started. And lucky me—you've already bonded with the sacrifice I need."
She pointed at Kael.
"The prophecy requires a betrayed prince, a soul-bound blade, and a willing death. Two out of three are standing right in front of me." Her magic swirled, cutting off our escape. "Now, let's discuss the 'willing' part. How much torture do you think it takes before death becomes preferable? I'm genuinely curious."
Kael raised me, ready to fight, but I could feel his terror through our bond.
Because we both knew the truth.
We'd just survived thirty regular guards.
But Morganna wasn't regular anything.
She was the monster who'd been hunting Soulrend for centuries.
And we'd just jumped right into her trap.