The Bladeweaver [Book 1 Complete]

Kale's chest tightened as he watched them go, his heart breaking with each step they took away from him. And then they were gone. The chamber fell into silence once more.

He turned to face Xeroth, his legs shaking, his grip on Aeloria's Promise faltering. The rotting god loomed before him.

"You cannot stop me," Xeroth said, a statement of fact. He stepped closer, the air around him bending and decaying, as if existence itself withered in his presence. His gaze rested on Kale. "You clutch at a fragment of creation, a weapon forged by gods, yet you wield it as a child would a toy. You do not understand its purpose. You do not understand mine."

"This is the nature of all things," he continued, his tone devoid of malice or triumph. "To falter. To wither. To end. You stand here not as a challenger, but as a shadow clinging to the illusion of permanence."

Xeroth leaned closer, though his presence felt infinite, as though he was everywhere at once. His hollow eyes met Kale's. "You believe your actions hold meaning. They do not. You think your will can alter the course of eons. It cannot. You will crumble, as all things do, and this moment will pass, forgotten. I am not your opponent. I am inevitability. I am the end, and there is nothing for you to fight."

Kale's body trembled with exhaustion. He could feel the end coming, pressing down on him. But as the despair threatened to swallow him whole, he remembered Rika's face. Liliana's defiant smirk. The laughter they shared.

And in that moment, Kale stood tall.

"I don't care if I can't stop you," he said. "As long as they live... that's enough."

Xeroth's expression remained unchanged, his hollow eyes resting on Kale. "Then you will end," he said, like it was simply the truth. "As all things do. What you fought for, what you believed in—it was never meant to last. You are a flicker in the shadow of eternity, a fleeting spark destined to fade. That is the nature of existence. It was always this."

The rotting god raised his hand, and the air trembled with the steady unraveling of reality. Dark energy coiled around him, not violent but inevitable, like the slow erosion of stone by time. "You grasp at meaning where there is none. You fight to delay what cannot be stopped. Even now, you fail to understand. There is no victory, no defiance. There is only the end."

The darkness surged forward, not as an attack, but as a final truth revealed. It ripped the air apart with a soundless force, and Kale felt it hit him—not like a weapon, but like the collapse of all things. It tore through him, stripping flesh, bone, and spirit. It wasn't pain as he knew it, it was deeper, as if the threads of his very existence were unraveling. He wasn't dying; he was ceasing.

His legs gave way, and he fell to the cold stone floor. Aeloria's Promise slipped from his hand, the blade clattering uselessly beside him. The world dimmed, not just around him, but within him, as if his essence was being drawn into the void. Kale could feel it—the end, absolute and uncaring. No anger, no cruelty. Only nothingness.

His mind clung desperately to the faces of Rika and Liliana, the ones who meant everything to him. Rika, fierce and unyielding, her laughter still ringing in his ears. "Don't worry, Kaley, I'll protect you," she'd said so many times, hammer in hand, her confidence unshakable. He imagined her now, standing over him once again, ready to shield him from anything, just like she always had.

Liliana. He saw her too. Sharp-tongued and brilliant, her sarcasm masking the quiet warmth she reserved only for them. He remembered the look she gave him in Harrow's Reach, when he bought that new tunic—how her crimson eyes lingered, the faintest flicker of approval she never voiced. And then at the festival, when she smiled, truly smiled, as they talked, the kind of smile that stayed with him long after. She wasn't just a companion; she was someone who had come to mean more to him than he could put into words. Maybe more than even he understood.

His vision blurred as darkness crept in, swallowing the world around him. A cold stillness settled over his body, unresponsive to his will. His mind, once so focused on the fight, now drifted to thoughts of what might come after. Would they make it out alive? Would they go on without him? He prayed they would be safe, that his sacrifice would give them the chance to live, to fight another day.

And then, there was nothing.

The silence, absolute and infinite, engulfed him.

***

His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself standing in a place that defied comprehension. The world around him shimmered with ethereal light, as if every particle of the air was charged with energy beyond human understanding. Vast, impossible structures towered around him, made of gleaming, silver-like material that bent and swirled as though they were alive. Blades of all shapes and sizes floated in the air, suspended in elegant patterns, weaving through the atmosphere like gentle streams of water. The sky above was a radiant expanse, shifting between hues of deep blue and soft gold, its surface dotted with what seemed to be stars, though they flickered with an intensity Kale had never witnessed.

The air was warm, comforting, and it hummed with power. It was not oppressive, though, this was not like Xeroth's decaying rot. No, this realm was pure, a place of creation and grace, where everything was perfect, sharp, and untouchable by the forces of ruin.

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And there, before him, stood Aeloria.

The Blademother.

A radiant figure of ethereal grace and terrifying power. Her presence was overwhelming, yet strangely calming. Her skin shimmered with a soft glow, as though the stars themselves had woven into her being, and her long, silver hair flowed as if caught in an eternal wind, each strand gleaming like liquid moonlight. Her eyes held a depth of wisdom that spanned eons, both tender and fierce, as if she had seen the rise and fall of countless worlds but still held love and compassion for every soul.

Her wings stretched wide behind her, formed not of feathers but of countless swords, each one sharp, gleaming, and perfectly forged. They fanned out like a celestial armor, casting shimmering reflections of light across the space around her.

Clad in flowing garments that shifted like mist, her attire was light, unburdened, and elegant, as if spun from the breath of the wind. Thin strands of material cascaded across her form, both framing and accentuating her divine presence without restraint or excess. Her beauty was awe-inspiring, not for its perfection, but for the quiet authority it carried, the kind that could decide the fate of battles and carve the paths of destinies.

She was more glorious than he had ever imagined. Aeloria was not just a goddess, she was a presence that demanded reverence, the embodiment of something far greater than mortal understanding. Looking upon her, Kale felt a wave of emotions surge through him—awe that left him rooted in place, gratitude for being in her presence, and a quiet, unshakable resolve to rise to the honor she had bestowed upon him. In that moment, he knew he would give everything to live up to her purpose.

He was standing before a goddess, his goddess. As she stepped closer to him, he felt her energy wash over him like a mother's embrace. Her touch was tender, and as she reached down, cupping his face in her glowing hands, a warmth spread through his body, softening the exhaustion and the fear.

"You have made me proud, Kale," she said, her voice a symphony of power and gentleness. Each word resonated through him, like the strum of an ancient chord, speaking to the core of his being. "You gave yourself without hesitation. You were willing to lay down your life to save your friends."

Her fingers brushed lightly over his cheek, and her praise settled over him with a quiet, profound comfort. It was as though every struggle, every failure, every moment of doubt had been worth it, each one a step leading to this moment.

"You are worthy," she continued, her voice filling the air with both pride and warmth. "You have the heart of a true bladeweaver."

He had never expected to hear such words, least of all from Aeloria herself. She smiled at him, her expression filled with a love that was both divine and deeply personal.

"This is just the beginning of your journey," she said, stepping back slightly, her eyes never leaving his. "You do not need to fear death anymore. You have faced it, and you triumphed. You should be proud of the courage you showed. Few would have made the sacrifice you did. You have passed my test."

Kale's chest swelled with emotion. His previous doubts fell away, replaced by a deep sense of purpose. He had been chosen by Aeloria, and she was not done with him.

Aeloria lifted her hand, and the air around them shimmered. "Now that you are truly a bladeweaver, you will be able to recognize others like you, as will they you. Your journey will be to find the remaining bladeweavers, scattered as they are. Tell them that Xeroth has risen once more. They must heed my call, for together, you must fight him again, as the bladeweavers once did in ages past."

Her words lingered, charged with significance. Kale felt the enormity of the task before him, but there was no fear now, only resolve. He would find them, and they would face Xeroth together.

"Before you go," she said, "I will give you one more gift."

She raised her hand toward him, and a brilliant light erupted from her palm, bathing Kale in its warmth.

"I grant you Sacrifice," she said. "A skill that allows you to add incredible power to your strikes at the cost of your own life force. Use it wisely. Let it remind you of the strength that lies in giving everything you have to protect what matters."

She smiled at him once more. "Go now, Kale. Your path is clear."

The realm of Aeloria faded, the brilliant, ethereal world dissolving into light. He felt the warmth of her hands leaving his face, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in the chamber once more.

The air was still, the room as it had been before the fight. Rika and Liliana stood behind him, their faces full of shock and relief.

"Kale!" Rika's voice was filled with emotion, as she ran toward him. "Are you okay?"

Liliana hovered close by, studying him carefully, concern etched on her usually guarded face.

Kale nodded slowly, still feeling the echo of Aeloria's touch on his skin. "I'm fine," he said, though the enormity of the task ahead lingered in his thoughts. He was alive, yes. But now, his journey had truly begun.

Rika reached him first, wrapping her arms around him so tightly he could barely breathe. "You scared the hells out of us," she said. "I thought we'd lost you."

Kale managed a small smile, his hand resting on her back. "I thought you did, too."

Liliana floated closer. "That was different. Something happened, didn't it? You're not the same."

Kale steadied himself, Aeloria's words echoing through him. He turned to face them both. "I... I saw her. Aeloria."

Rika pulled back. "Aeloria, Aeloria?"

Kale nodded. "She spoke to me. She told me that the battle is far from over, that Xeroth is rising again and that the bladeweavers must gather to fight him, just like they did before."

"So, what now? We've been running from him since the start. What makes this different?" Liliana asked.

"It's not just about running anymore. Aeloria gave me a mission... We have to stop him. To do that, I need to find the other bladeweavers. She said they'll recognize me, and I'll recognize them. Together, we'll be strong enough to fight back."

Rika crossed her arms. "And how are we supposed to find them? It's not like they're out there advertising 'bladeweaver for hire.'"

Kale gave a weary nod. "I don't know yet. But Aeloria believes in me, and I'm not going to let her down."

"And what about you?" Liliana asked. "Are you ready for this?"

"I don't have a choice," Kale said quietly. "This is what I was chosen for."

Rika put her hand on his shoulder, her grip strong and reassuring. "Don't worry, Kaley, we've got your back. Wherever you go, we go."

"Zorian did say our Wyrd is tied together, so I guess I'm stuck with you," Liliana said. "Just try not to get us killed, and I might forgive you."

Kale chuckled. "I'll do my best."