Blade

BLADE

Chapter 1: the edge of fate

Rain pounded the earth, turning the dirt road into a trail of mud and rivulets. The figure moved steadily, ignoring the chill that seeped through their soaked cloak. Every step brought them closer to the city that loomed ahead, its walls towering like a fortress against the darkened sky. The storm only seemed to grow fiercer, lightning flashing intermittently to reveal the ancient sword strapped across their back.

It was heavier than it looked. Not just in weight, but in presence. The blade seemed alive, its faint hum vibrating through the air whenever the figure touched it. It had been days since they found it—or rather, since it found them.

It had happened at the ruins of Eldwyn Keep, where no one dared to tread. The figure, whose name was Kain, had gone there out of desperation. A simple wanderer with no home, no purpose, and little hope, they’d thought the ruins might hold something of value. What they found instead was the sword.

Kain hadn’t wanted to take it at first. The blade’s presence had been suffocating, almost alive. But when they reached out to touch it, the sword pulsed with a warmth that sank into their very bones. It spoke to them—not in words, but in a feeling, a knowing. It had chosen them.

“Why me?” Kain whispered, gripping the sword's hilt now as they approached the city gates. There was no answer, only the constant hum, like a heartbeat.

The city’s guards stood at their posts, cloaked against the storm. Their spears glinted faintly in the torchlight, and their faces were grim. Kain stopped several paces from the gate, lowering their hood to reveal sharp, determined eyes beneath a mop of wet, dark hair.

“State your business,” one guard called, stepping forward.

“I’m here to see the king,” Kain said. Their voice was calm, steady, though their heart raced.

The guards laughed. “Nobody sees the king without an invitation. And you don’t look like someone who’d be invited.”

Kain didn’t respond. Instead, they shifted their stance, reaching for the blade on their back. As their fingers closed around the hilt, the hum grew louder, filling the air with a low, resonant sound that made the guards falter.

“What… what is that?” one of them stammered, stepping back.

Kain drew the sword. The storm seemed to quiet for a moment as its light cut through the darkness, brighter than the torches and more commanding than the lightning. The guards froze, their eyes wide with fear.

“I don’t need an invitation,” Kain said, their voice cold. “I’m here to end the king’s rule.”

The guards scrambled, shouting for reinforcements, but Kain didn’t hesitate. They stepped forward, the blade thrumming with power. For the first time in years, Kain felt purpose.

The tyrant would fall. Or Kain would. But either way, the blade’s legend was about to begin anew.