Darian's POV
Garrett's axe slams into the tree right next to my head.
"Put down the cursed sword, boy," he growls. "Right now."
My hand tightens on Elara's hilt. Through our bond, I feel her panic mixing with my own.
"Don't let go!" she screams in my mind. "If you drop me now, the bond could snap. It might kill us both!"
"Garrett, listen—" I start.
"I said PUT IT DOWN!" The old commander's face is red with fury. Behind him, thirty soldiers point weapons at me. These are my people. My friends. The only ones who stayed loyal when Lucian stole my crown.
And now they think I'm possessed.
Nyx steps forward, her hands glowing with blue magic. "Darian, that sword spoke with your mouth. That's possession. Dark magic. We have to separate you before it takes over completely."
"Tell them I'm not evil!" Elara begs. "Tell them I'm just trapped!
"She's not evil," I say quickly. "She's a person. A human soul trapped inside the blade. She saved my life tonight."
"Swords don't have souls," Garrett snaps. "Whatever that thing is, it's lying to you. Manipulating you."
"I'm NOT a thing!" Elara's voice bursts from my mouth before I can stop her. "I have a NAME. I'm ELARA. And I've been trapped in darkness for THREE HUNDRED YEARS while everyone ignored me, feared me, called me cursed. I'm not a demon. I'm not evil. I'm just someone who wants to be FREE!"
The clearing goes silent.
Nyx's magic flickers. "Did... did the sword just defend itself?"
"I told you," I say. "There's a woman inside. She's connected to me now through something called a soul-bond. We can hear each other's thoughts. Share power. She guided me in that fight. Without her, I'd be dead."
Garrett doesn't lower his axe. "Or she's a demon who saved you once to earn your trust. So she can possess you completely later."
"He's not wrong," Elara admits quietly in my mind. "That's exactly what a smart demon would do."
"You're not helping," I think back at her.
A young soldier named Marcus pushes forward. "My lord, the Blade of Remembrance has legends. Dark legends. Everyone who's wielded it has gone mad. Killed their own families. Destroyed entire villages."
"That's because they couldn't hear me!" Elara shouts, frustrated."They felt the power but couldn't understand it. They went mad from fear, not from me!"
"She says—" I start to translate, but Nyx interrupts.
"Stop. Just stop." She closes her eyes, and her magic flares brighter. "I can see souls. It's my gift. Let me look at what's really inside that sword."
"Will this hurt?" I ask Elara.
"Probably. Everything hurts lately."
Nyx's magic washes over me—over us. It feels like cold water and electricity. Through our bond, I feel Elara flinch.
Then Nyx gasps and stumbles backward.
"What is it?" Garrett demands. "What did you see?"
Nyx stares at the sword with wide eyes. "She's telling the truth. There's a human soul in there. A real one. But..." She looks at me with something like pity. "It's not from our world. Her soul signature is completely foreign. She's from somewhere else. Somewhere far away."
"Earth," I say. "She calls it Earth."
Murmurs ripple through the soldiers. Some look curious. Most look terrified.
"A soul from another world, trapped in a legendary weapon," Garrett says slowly. "This is either the most elaborate trick I've ever seen, or..."
"Or it's real," Nyx finishes. "And I think it's real. Her soul is too detailed, too complex to be a fake. But, Darian—" She meets my eyes. "—that bond between you is dangerous. The longer you're connected, the more tangled your souls become. Eventually, you might not be able to tell where you end and she begins."
"She's right," Elara whispers. "I can already feel it happening. Your thoughts are becoming easier to hear. Your emotions are bleeding into mine."
A cold weight settles in my stomach. "What happens if we stay bonded too long?"
Nyx hesitates. "One soul might consume the other. Or you might merge into something neither of you were before. I don't know. This kind of magic is ancient. Forbidden."
Garrett crosses his arms. "Then we find a way to separate them. Tonight."
"NO!" I'm surprised by how loud my voice is. By how desperate. "I... I need her power. You saw what we did together. With Elara, I can fight like ten men. I can heal from wounds that should kill me. I can—"
"Become something that's not you anymore," Garrett finishes sadly. "Boy, I followed you because you're a good man. A true prince. Don't lose yourself chasing revenge."
"My brother murdered our mother. Stole my crown. Took my bride. Sent assassins to kill me." My hands shake with rage. "I've lost everything already, Garrett. Everything except this."
I raise the sword. In the firelight, the red edge glows like fresh blood.
"With Elara, I have a chance. A real chance to make Lucian pay."
"At what cost?" Nyx asks softly.
*"Tell them,"* Elara says. *"Tell them the full truth. About Celeste."*
I take a deep breath. "There's more. Elara says... she says Celeste is a reincarnated soul. From Earth. Celeste was the one who murdered Elara in her first life."
The clearing explodes with noise. Everyone talking at once. Shouting. Arguing.
"That's impossible!"
"Reincarnation?"
"Is he crazy?"
"The sword is lying to him!"
Garrett holds up his hand for silence. When everyone quiets, he looks at me with hard eyes. "You're saying your ex-bride is a murderer from another world?"
"Yes."
"And the sword told you this?"
"Yes."
"And you believe it?"
I think about the memory Elara showed me. The woman who looked exactly like Celeste standing over a dying body. Smiling.
"Yes. I believe it."
Garrett and Nyx exchange a long look. Some kind of silent conversation happens between them.
Finally, Nyx sighs. "If this is true—and I mean IF—then we need more information. I can try to examine Celeste's soul from a distance. See if there's evidence of reincarnation."
"How long will that take?" I ask.
"A few days. Maybe a week."
"And until then?" Garrett demands. "What do we do with the cursed sword?"
*"I'm not cursed,"* Elara mutters. *"I'm traumatized. There's a difference."*
Despite everything, I almost smile.
"Until then, I keep the sword. Keep training with Elara. If the bond gets dangerous, Nyx will tell me. Right?"
Nyx nods reluctantly. "I'll monitor your soul daily. But Darian, the moment I see you losing yourself—"
"You'll separate us. I understand."
Garrett doesn't look happy, but he lowers his axe. "Fine. But if that thing makes you hurt any of our people, I'll cut off your sword hand myself. Clear?"
"Clear."
The soldiers slowly lower their weapons. But they don't look comfortable. They keep staring at me—at the sword—like I'm a stranger now.
Maybe I am.
Marcus approaches cautiously. "My lord, there's something else. While you were gone, a messenger arrived. From the capital."
My heart stops. "What message?"
"Prince Lucian is holding a coronation ceremony. Three months from now. He's officially claiming the throne."
Three months. That's all the time I have to build an army. To get strong enough to challenge my brother.
*"We can do it,"* Elara says fiercely. *"Three months is enough. I'll teach you everything I know. Every fighting technique I've watched for three centuries. We'll make you unstoppable."*
*"And if the bond consumes me before then?"*
She's quiet for a moment. *"Then we'd better work fast."*
I look around at my thirty followers. It's not much. But it's a start.
"Everyone rest tonight," I order. "Tomorrow, we begin training. Real training. In three months, we march on the capital. We take back what's mine."
"And kill a few traitors while we're at it," Garrett adds with grim satisfaction.
The soldiers disperse to their tents. But Nyx lingers, studying me with those unnaturally blue eyes.
"What?" I ask.
"You're already different," she says. "The way you move. The way you talk. It's subtle, but I can see it. She's changing you."
*"I don't mean to,"* Elara says, sounding distressed. *"I'm trying not to—"*
"I know," I tell both of them. "But maybe change is what I need. The old Darian trusted people. Loved people. And they destroyed him."
"And the new Darian?" Nyx asks.
I look down at the sword in my hand. At my reflection in the black blade.
"The new Darian has nothing left to lose."
---
That night, I lie in my tent with the sword beside me. Most people would be afraid to sleep next to a weapon with a soul inside it.
But I feel safer than I have in months.
*"Elara?"* I think into the darkness.
*"I'm here. I'm always here."*
*"Tell me about Earth. About your world."*
And she does. She tells me about machines that move without horses. Buildings taller than mountains. Lights that work without fire. A world so different from mine it sounds like a fairy tale.
As she talks, I feel her loneliness. Three hundred years of it, wrapped around her soul like chains.
*"I'm sorry,"* I whisper. *"Sorry you've been trapped so long."*
*"I'm sorry your brother betrayed you."*
We lie there in comfortable silence, two broken souls connected by magic and pain.
Then Elara says something that changes everything:
*"Darian? I felt something tonight. When Nyx's magic scanned me. Something wrong."*
*"Wrong how?"*
*"There are six other swords from my collection in this world. The Dagger of Rending. The Lance of Sorrow. The Axe of Ending. Three more I haven't located yet. They all came to Aethermoor when I did."*
*"So?"*
*"So what if they all have souls trapped in them too? What if I'm not the only one?"*
My blood runs cold. "You think there are six more people trapped in weapons?"
*"Or six more demons. Or six more souls driven mad by isolation. I don't know."* Her fear seeps through our bond. *"But Darian? I think your brother has one of them. The Dagger. And I think it's already possessing him."
I sit up fast. "What?"
*"Think about it. Lucian was always weak. Easily influenced. You said so yourself. But suddenly he's smart enough to steal your bride, murder your mother, and plot assassinations? That's not the brother you described."
She's right. Lucian was never that clever. Never that cruel.
*"The Dagger is controlling him,"*in 2I breathe.
*"Maybe. Or maybe it's just making him worse. Either way—*Elara's voice turns urgent.*"—we're not just fighting your brother anymore. We're fighting whatever evil is inside that blade."
I reach for the sword, and the moment my hand touches the hilt, I see it.
A vision. A memory. Not mine. Not Elara's.
Lucian, sitting on my throne, holding a curved dagger. His eyes flash black for just a moment.
And a voice—cold, ancient, wrong—whispers from the blade:
"Six more to collect. Then the portal opens. Then the dead will walk again."
The vision ends.
I'm gasping, sweating, terrified.
"What was that?" I demand.
"A warning," Elara whispers. "The weapons are waking up, Darian. All of them. And they have a plan."