The Bladeweaver [Book 1 Complete]

He was alone.

"Kale," a voice echoed, soft and melodic. It wasn't Aeloria, though. This voice came from inside him, from his own doubt, fear, and guilt.

The light dimmed, and shadows shifted unnaturally, coalescing into something horrifyingly familiar. Ahead of him, a scene unfolded—Rika and Liliana, standing together, surrounded by darkness. Kale tried to call out to them, but his voice wouldn't come. His feet moved, but no matter how fast he ran, they stayed just out of reach. The ground stretched endlessly before him, mocking his efforts.

The air in the chamber seemed to grow impossibly still, the oppressive atmosphere sharpening into something far more sinister. Kale's heart lurched as Rika turned toward him, her normally fierce expression vanishing, replaced by one of pure horror. Her eyes widened, her face as pale as stone, lips trembling as she tried to form words. But nothing came.

From the shadows behind her, something began to take shape. The darkness itself seemed to unravel, twisting and warping, as though reality was bending to reveal something it had long hidden. He stepped forward, not a creature, but a figure—tall, regal, and yet so wrong. His body was draped in a cloak that seemed to be unravelling, strands of reality itself peeling away from the fabric as if the universe was decaying in his wake. Parts of him were majestic, divine even, like a remnant of what he had once been. But the rest—his face, his hands, his crown—were twisted, decayed. His flesh, half-beautiful, half-rotting, dripped with corruption, and from beneath the tattered robes, a palpable force of decay pulsed outward. Even the stone beneath his feet crumbled with each slow step, the floor rotting and disintegrating just from his presence.

Kale felt like the fabric of the world was being pulled apart. His mind screamed at him to move, but his legs were frozen, every fiber of his being recoiling from the god-like force that stood before them.

Rika tried to move, her warhammer gripped tightly in her hand, but the figure's presence made it impossible. It was as though her strength had drained away, leaving her exposed, vulnerable. She looked at Kale, her lips forming the word "help," but no sound escaped. There was no time. No escape.

The tall, twisted being lifted one decayed, elegant hand. He didn't need claws, he was decay itself. His touch was enough. With a slow, deliberate motion, his hand extended toward Rika. The air seemed to tremble around him, his outstretched fingers bringing the unbearable weight of death.

Kale's heart pounded in his chest as he watched, helpless, as the entity's hand closed in on her. The moment it brushed against Rika's skin, she gasped, her body shuddering violently as the corruption surged through her. The force of his decay rippled outward, spreading through her veins like a poison. Her eyes were wide in shock and agony as her body seemed to wither before his touch. Her hammer slipped from her fingers, falling to the ground.

"No!" Kale's voice cracked, breaking the silence. His legs finally moved, though too late, far too late.

Rika collapsed to the floor, lifeless.

The decaying presence towered over him, its gaze hollow yet piercing, never straying from Kale. "All things unravel," the voice whispered, like the sound of rotting leaves stirred by the wind. It felt less like words and more like a force seeping into the cracks of the world. "Everything fades to ruin. You, too, will fall into the silent rot."

An eerie quiet followed, but the pressure lingered, as though the air was being stripped of life. The being's gaze seemed to reach into Kale's soul, a cold stare pulling him toward the inevitable end.

Kale's heart seized in his chest, a suffocating grip tightening around it. His stomach twisted violently, nausea surging up his throat like poison, threatening to choke him. A wave of panic crashed over him, drowning out every thought except one: this was it. His body trembled, his skin clammy as terror clawed at him from within.

The decaying figure shifted its attention. His gaze slid slowly, deliberately, from Kale to Liliana. Liliana, defiant even now, moved closer, her red eyes glowing with the intensity of her will. She was ready to fight, but there was something deeper, an understanding of what was about to happen.

The figure lifted his hand, the same twisted grace in his movements that seemed to slow time itself. "Life is not yours to keep," his voice rumbled, carrying the finality of a forgotten era. "You were only ever borrowed."

Liliana's head jerked back. Tendrils of blackness slithered through the air, connecting her to the rotting god as though her essence was being pulled away. She gasped, the defiance in her eyes flickering, and for the first time since Kale had known her, there was fear.

"No!" Kale's voice cracked, raw with desperation, but his feet felt anchored to the ground, frozen in place by his own helplessness.

Liliana let out a strangled cry as the black veins spread across her pale face, her features twisting in agony. Her eyes flickered, dimming, as if her soul was being drained. With a final, pitiful gasp, her eyes dulled, her once vibrant presence now an empty, lifeless form.

The rotting god lowered his hand, his face devoid of emotion as Liliana fell to the ground, silent and still. The overwhelming emptiness in the air was all that remained of her, a cruel reminder of the power that had just erased her existence.

Kale stood there, paralyzed, his body refusing to obey his commands. His heart shattered, the searing grief rising in his chest as he watched Liliana—his companion, his friend—fade into nothingness before him.

And then came the silence.

Kale's mind screamed, but no sound escaped his lips. His entire body shook with rage, grief, and disbelief, the scene before him feeling more like a nightmare than reality. He wanted to move, to strike, to tear the world apart if it meant bringing them back. But he couldn't. His legs felt like lead, and his arms were trembling too much to grip his blade. Finally his knees buckled, his body shaking uncontrollably as he fell to the ground. His heart raced, thundering in his chest as the weight of what had just happened crushed him. He had failed them. His worst fear had become reality.

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The vision shifted again, faster this time—scenes of chaos, one after another. He saw Liliana, her magic faltering as she fought an endless battle, blood spraying across the battlefield. He saw Rika, surrounded by enemies, her warhammer shattered, her body broken and bleeding as she was overwhelmed by shadowy figures. In every vision, he was there, just watching. Helpless.

It was a nightmare, a future Kale feared more than death itself. The thought of being the cause of their suffering, of leading them to their deaths, tore at his soul.

He felt Aeloria's Promise vibrating at his side, pulling him back to the present, a distant hum in his mind. But it was drowned out by the voices—taunting, whispering accusations in his ears. "You'll never be strong enough," they hissed. "You'll always fail."

His heart thundered in his chest, the pressure mounting until it felt unbearable. His eyes burned, tears spilling down his cheeks as he collapsed to his knees. Each breath came shallow and strained, the air around him thick and stifling, like a heavy, suffocating weight pressing down on him, threatening to choke the life from his lungs.

"I can't do this," he whispered, choked with emotion. "I'm not strong enough."

The vision shifted one final time.

Kale stood in a field of death—bodies strewn across the ground in a grotesque sea of blood and carnage. Rika, Liliana, even Sylorin, lay motionless, their eyes vacant, their weapons broken beside them. And at the center of it all stood he. The rotting god, his presence overwhelming, his hollow gaze locked on Kale.

"You cannot stop what was never meant to be stopped," Xeroth said calmly. "Every step you've taken, every struggle, every fleeting hope—it has all brought you here. To the end. And in the end, Kale… you'll die alone."

Kale trembled, frozen in fear. His hands shook as he reached for his sword, but his fingers couldn't grasp the hilt. His body was paralyzed by terror, his mind clouded with doubt. He was going to die. They were all going to die.

But then, amid the chaos and despair, a familiar warmth spread through him—a presence, soft yet firm. Aeloria's Promise hummed at his side, brighter now, pulsing with energy.

"No…" Kale whispered, his voice trembling but growing. He could feel her power coursing through his veins, steadying his shaking hands, pushing away the darkness. "I won't let this happen."

The visions flickered, the twisted voices silenced one by one, until only silence remained. The crushing weight lifted, and Kale found himself standing, his grip on Aeloria's Promise now firm. He had stared into his deepest fears, and while it had shaken him to his core, it had not broken him.

Aeloria's voice, gentle and comforting, echoed in his mind. "This is not the future, Kale. You shape your own path, and you are not alone."

Kale exhaled slowly, his body trembling with relief. The chamber around him returned to its previous state, still foreboding but no longer suffocating. He knew the road ahead would be treacherous, but a new fire burned inside him. The fear that had once controlled him no longer held sway.

He wouldn't let it. Not anymore.

Kale stumbled back to his feet, shaken but resolute. Rika's voice called out to him, and he realized he was no longer in the vision. He was back in the cave, and both Rika and Liliana were still alive, waiting for him.

Across the room, Rika's chest heaved, her hammer slipping from her bloodied hands. Liliana, floating nearby, looked drained—her once glowing red eyes now dull with exhaustion.

And then he emerged from the shadows.

The Lord of Unraveling. The Final Whisper. The Endbringer. A twisted figure, part man, part void, with a presence that tore at the edges of reality. His voice, a dark whisper that clawed into their minds, sent shivers down Kale's spine.

"I warned you," Xeroth's voice oozed through the air. His form distorted and twisted as he advanced, each step warping reality around him. "All things rot. All things crumble. All things… end."

His hollow, decaying eyes fixed on Kale, the air around him suffocating. "And now… it's your turn."

Xeroth didn't strike with brute force, he didn't need to. His movements were effortless, almost absentminded, as though their resistance didn't even register. To him, they weren't adversaries; they were less than a passing thought.

Rika charged, her hammer raised high, a desperate cry escaping her throat. Kale wanted to tell her to stop, to wait—but it was too late. Xeroth barely moved, a flick of his wrist sent her flying across the chamber. She hit the wall with a sickening thud, her body crumpling to the ground.

"Rika!" Kale's voice cracked as he watched her, unmoving, blood pooling beneath her.

Liliana lashed out with her magic, blood tendrils snapping toward Xeroth, but they disintegrated before reaching him. The god's decaying aura consumed everything. Liliana screamed in frustration, her energy spent.

"This is all, " Xeroth said. His form shifted, the air warping around him as if reality itself recoiled from his presence. "Struggle if you must. It changes nothing. It never has. It never will."

Xeroth's hollow gaze bore into Kale, stripping him down with every word. "Such potential," he said. "Wasted."

Kale lunged forward, summoning Aeloria's Promise, but the effort was in vain. Xeroth swatted him aside as if he were an insect, and the impact sent Kale sprawling onto the cold, unforgiving stone floor. His vision blurred, blood dripping from his forehead as he struggled to stand.

He could feel it—this was a battle they couldn't win. Xeroth was untouchable, a force beyond anything they'd ever faced. And yet, they had no choice but to keep fighting.

"Run!" Kale shouted, his voice hoarse. He turned to Rika and Liliana. "You have to get out of here!"

Rika, barely able to move, groaned as she lifted herself onto her knees. "We're not leaving you," she said. "We fight together, or we die together."

"No!" Kale's voice cracked. "You have to go. You have to be safe. I'll hold him off, but you need to run!"

Tears welled in his eyes, his desperation overwhelming him. He could see the fear in Rika's eyes, the reluctance in Liliana's. He could see their struggle, their refusal to abandon him, but there was no other way. If they stayed, they would all die.

"Please," he begged. "Please... just go."

Rika's eyes locked onto Kale's, her lip trembling as her entire body shook with hesitation. Tears welled up. She didn't want to leave him. She didn't want to run. But as her gaze shifted toward the looming, unstoppable god before them, reality crashed down like a weight on her chest. There was no choice. Her heart ached with the truth she couldn't bear to accept.

"I can't..." she whispered, her voice breaking.

Kale met her eyes, pleading, silently begging her to go. With a final, trembling glance, filled with regret and guilt so heavy it nearly crushed her, Rika finally gave in. The unspoken words between them shattered her heart.

She reached for Liliana, her expression pained. Rika gripped her tightly as if holding on would stop everything from falling apart, but even that felt like sand slipping through her fingers. Slowly, painfully, Rika turned, dragging her feet toward the exit, each step tearing her further away from the man she didn't want to abandon.

With every step, she prayed this wasn't the last time she'd see him.