The days blurred into rhythm.Dawn, training. Noon, meditation. Dusk, exhaustion.
A week passed like the slow turn of a wheel — steady, relentless, transformative.
Each morning, the clearing came alive with Kael's movements. His body now carried the grace of repetition, his strikes flowing with precision instead of hesitation. The once-foreign hum of the cursed sword had become a familiar undertone, a constant rhythm beneath his heartbeat. The silver-blue glow of his veins had dimmed to a faint shimmer, no longer wild or unstable, but contained — refined.
The old man watched each session from his usual spot beneath the great oak, eyes unreadable. He rarely interrupted now. The silence itself had become a kind of approval.
Kael's blade danced through the air, Essence rippling around him like wind made visible. His movements were no longer born from instinct alone but from understanding — each motion a conversation between him, the sword, and the Essence that bound them.
When the session ended, Kael dropped to one knee, panting lightly, sweat rolling down his neck. The sword hummed softly in his hand, content.
The old man approached, his steps unhurried. "Your control has improved."
Kael managed a tired grin. "You mean I didn't nearly blow myself up today."
A small huff escaped the old man — almost a laugh. "Close enough."
Kael sheathed the sword and looked at the clear sky above. "It feels different now. The Essence. Like it's… breathing with me."
"That's because it is," the old man said. "Your core and channels have stabilized. The energy moves naturally now. You're no longer forcing it." He paused, his gaze narrowing. "Though I sense something else. Something shifting inside you."
Kael frowned. "Shifting?"
"The sword," the old man said simply. "Its seal weakens the more in sync you become with it. You can feel it too, can't you?"
Kael hesitated, then nodded. He had felt it — a faint vibration, like a pulse beneath his own. The sword had grown quieter, yes, but deeper. There was something waiting beneath that silence. Something vast.
"Be careful," his master warned. "If the seal breaks before you're ready, it could destroy your mind. Or worse — claim your soul."
Kael looked at the blade, lying in the grass beside him. Its surface reflected the light like oil on water, colors shifting between shadow and steel. "Then I'll make sure I'm ready."
The old man studied him for a long moment, then gave a small nod. "Rest for today. You'll need strength for what's coming."
****
That night, Kael lay in his small cabin on the edge of the training grounds, he had moved out from the tavern. The place was humble — wooden walls, a single window, the faint scent of pine. His sword rested against the wall near his bed, still humming faintly, like it was whispering in its sleep.
Kael lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. His body ached, but it was the good kind of pain — earned, deserved. His Essence felt alive within him, calm but powerful. He could sense each pulse of it through his veins, every slow, rhythmic beat echoing with his core.
He closed his eyes.
Seven days ago, I could barely hold it, he thought. Now I can feel every drop of Essence flow. It's like I've become part of it.
But beneath that calm, something tugged at him. A subtle vibration deep in his core — familiar yet alien. The sword's presence, woven through his Essence, thrummed louder than usual.
Kael frowned, his eyes snapping open. "What now…" he muttered, sitting up.
The sword began to glow.
A faint line of crimson light traced along its edge, pulsing like a heartbeat. Kael reached out cautiously — the moment his fingers brushed the hilt, the air trembled.
The sound was low, almost like a sigh, followed by a deep, resonant crack.
Kael gasped as the vibration surged through him — not pain, but power. His Essence flared, his core pulsing violently as blue and silver light burst from his chest. The sword's glow intensified, its dark steel bleeding into streaks of red and gold.
Then, silence.
Kael fell to one knee, his breathing ragged. "The seal…" he whispered. "It broke."
The sword lay quiet now, the crimson glow fading back into shadow. But he could feel it — awake. A presence that wasn't just near him anymore, but inside him. Watching. Listening.
He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breath. "It's fine," he muttered. "I'm fine."
But his voice trembled.
He slid the sword back against the wall and rubbed his temples. The room felt heavier, the air thicker. The distant hum of night insects had quieted. Only the faint crackle of the oil lamp filled the silence.
"Maybe I just need sleep," he whispered.
He lay back down, exhaustion weighing on him. His eyelids grew heavy, his body sinking into the mattress.
Sleep came fast.But peace did not.
****
Something shifted in the dark.
Kael's eyes fluttered open. The lamp had burned low, its light a weak flicker. The room was colder than before. Still.
Then — movement.
A soft rustle, like silk brushing against the floorboards.
Kael's heart stopped.
There, at the edge of the dim light, stood a woman.
She didn't move, didn't speak — just watched him. Her hair was long and black, cascading over her shoulders like a shadow come to life. Her skin was pale, almost luminescent under the dying glow. But it was her eyes that held him — crimson, bright and unblinking, glowing faintly like embers in the dark.
The edges of her long, elegant black dress shimmered red against black silk, the fabric flowing like smoke around her feet. Every line of her figure seemed sculpted from impossible grace — both regal and dangerous.
The most beautiful woman Kael had ever seen in his entire life.
He was mesmerized by her looks.
Kael froze, every instinct screaming. His hand shot toward the side of the bed where the cursed sword should've been — but his fingers met only air.
The sword was gone.
"Looking for this?" Her voice was soft — smooth and melodic, with a hint of amusement. She lifted her hand, and there it was — the cursed sword — resting lightly against her shoulder as if it weighed nothing.
Kael's breath caught. "Who are you?" he demanded, forcing steadiness into his voice.
Her crimson eyes shimmered with mischief. "Is that really how you greet someone who's been with you all this time?"
The woman tilted her head slightly, a faint smile curving her lips. "Relax," she said, her tone teasing. "If I wanted to harm you, you'd already be ash."
Kael's muscles tightened, but he didn't move. There was something in her presence — overwhelming yet oddly familiar, as though his very Essence recognized her.
Her crimson eyes glimmered, playful yet ancient. "It's been so long since I could move freely," she murmured, tracing a finger along the sword's blade. "You did well breaking that seal."
Kael frowned, uncertain. "What are you talking about?"
Her smile deepened. "The whispers. The warmth you felt when your Essence flared. The voice that warned you… guided you. Who did you think that was?"
He blinked, his chest tightening. "That was you?"
Kael's heart pounded. "You're… from the sword?"
"Mmh." She nodded slowly, delight flickering across her face. "You're not as dense as I feared."
"From within it," she corrected, stepping closer. "Though, perhaps it's more accurate to say the sword is mine."
The air grew heavier as she approached. Each step made the room feel smaller, her aura pressing against him — warm, intoxicating, and utterly terrifying. Kael tried to back away but found his body refusing to move, locked between awe and fear.
She stopped beside his bed, her face now only inches from his. The faint scent of something sweet — like night-blooming flowers and smoke — filled the air.
Kael scowled, though a part of him—against his will—felt heat rise to his cheeks. "Then why now? Why show yourself?"
Her gaze softened, though her smile remained playful. "Because you've finally grown strong enough. You broke the seal, my dear Master."
The word Master sent a ripple down his spine.
Kael's thoughts raced. "Seal? What seal? And why do you keep calling me that?"
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a soft whisper that brushed against his ear like silk. "All in time. For now… just know that our bond runs deeper than you think."
He pulled back slightly, trying to read her face. "I don't understand."
She chuckled lightly. "You will." Then, as if sensing his lingering tension, she added, "Oh, and don't bother asking your old man about me. He can't see or feel me. I'm yours alone."
Kael's pulse quickened.
His master couldn't sense her? That meant she was either incredibly powerful—or something else entirely.
He swallowed, his voice quiet. "Why me?"
Her eyes gleamed, and that mischievous smile returned. "Because, Kael… you called to me long before you even knew my name."
He opened his mouth to ask more, but she raised a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Shh… enough questions for tonight."
Her tone softened, the playfulness tinged with something older, something hauntingly familiar. "We finally meet… oh, my Master."
Before he could respond, her form began to fade, dissolving into motes of crimson light that drifted through the air like embers.
Kael sat frozen, staring at the space where she had stood, heart pounding in his chest.
The room was silent again. The sword had returned to its place by the wall, its faint hum now carrying a new, strange warmth—almost… alive.
He exhaled slowly, his thoughts a storm.
Who was she?
What did she mean by seal?
And why did that word—Master—feel so familiar…?