Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: Whispers of the Fallen

The forbidden section's dust tickled Ethan's nose as he hunched over The Blades of the Fallen. Moonlight seeped through a cracked window, casting silver streaks over the page where the glowing ink still pulsed. He'd read the first line a dozen times, but the words refused to sink in—The Blade does not choose the strong. It chooses the one who can bear its truth.​Truth. What truth? The book's next pages were filled with sketches: swords identical to his, their hilts carved with the same black runes, wielded by figures in tattered armor labeled "Fallen Knights." A passage halfway down the page made his breath catch: Each Cursed Blade holds a fragment of its creator's soul—a knight who betrayed the Arcane Order a century ago. To wield it is to carry their guilt… and their rage.​Grandfather had been a Fallen Knight? The thought made Ethan's hands shake. He'd known the old man as a quiet mechanic who fixed bikes and baked burnt cookies, not a traitor to a magical order. He flipped to the next chapter, but the page was torn, leaving only a scrap of text: The last Blade wielder vanished in the Whispering Woods. Seek the—​A floorboard creaked.​Ethan slammed the book shut, slipping it into his coat. The library's patrol bell rang in the distance—he'd stayed too long. He crept toward the door, the Cursed Blade's hum softening to a murmur as if it, too, sensed danger. Just as he reached the hallway, he heard voices: two patrol mages, their robes swishing as they walked.​He ducked into a shadowed alcove, pressing his back to the wall. The mages' laughter grew louder. One mentioned "F-rank trespassers" and "heads on pikes." Ethan's grip tightened on the Blade. If he ran, they'd hear him. If he fought, the backlash would take him down before the mages did.​Control, he thought again. He focused on the tiniest flicker of the Blade's power, letting it wrap around him like a veil. The hum dimmed to nothing. When the mages passed the alcove, their eyes slid right over him—he might as well have been a statue.​Once they were gone, he exhaled, his legs wobbly. The Blade's power had felt different this time: not a wild fire, but a quiet shield. He'd done it. He'd controlled it.​The academy grounds were silent when he slipped outside, save for the rustle of leaves in the Whispering Woods. The book's torn page echoed in his head—Seek the— The woods. That must be where the last wielder had gone. Maybe there, he'd find answers about his grandfather… and about the Blade's truth.​He started toward the woods, but a soft cough stopped him.​A girl sat on a stone bench near the herb garden, her red hair glowing like embers in the moonlight. She held a mortar and pestle, grinding something that smelled like mint and iron. When she looked up, her green eyes widened.​"Hey—you're the F-rank who beat Gareth earlier," she said, setting down the mortar. "I'm Ella. Herbology student."​Ethan tensed. Another academy student—would she turn him in for sneaking out? But her smile was warm, no trace of the disdain he'd seen in Kael or the cold wariness in Lira.​"I'm Ethan," he said, hesitantly stepping closer. "What are you doing out here so late?"​"Making pain salve," she said, holding up a jar. "The healers' stuff is garbage for magical burns. Speaking of—" She nodded at his chest, where the Blade's backlash had left a faint black mark peeking out from his shirt. "You look like you need this more than me."​Ethan froze. How had she noticed? The mark was nearly invisible.​Ella laughed, as if reading his mind. "Herbology's not just about plants. I can smell the Blade's rot on you—Cursed Blade, right? Only they leave that metallic stench."​He stepped back, hand going to the Blade's hilt. "How do you—"​"My mom was a historian," she said, her smile fading. "She wrote about the Fallen Knights before the headmaster banned her books. She said the Blades don't just hurt their wielders—they call to something. Something in the woods."​The Whispering Woods. Ethan's heart raced. "Have you been there?"​Ella shook her head. "Everyone says it's haunted. Mages who go in never come back. But…." She leaned in, voice dropping. "I found this last week." She pulled a small, rusted pendant from her pocket—its shape matching the runes on Ethan's Blade. "In the herb garden. It has your Blade's mark."​Ethan reached for the pendant. As soon as his fingers touched it, the Cursed Blade's hum roared to life. The pendant warmed in his hand, and the black mark on his chest burned.​"Whoa—easy!" Ella said, grabbing his wrist. Her touch was cool, and the burn faded. "Whatever that thing is, it's linked to your Blade. Maybe the last wielder dropped it."​A twig snapped.​Ethan and Ella spun around. Kael stood at the garden's edge, flanked by two mages Ethan didn't recognize—one with a staff topped with a blue gem, the other with a scar slicing through his left eye.​"Found you, traitor," Kael said, sneering. "The headmaster wants to see you. And that book you stole." He nodded at Ethan's coat, where the book's spine poked out.​The scarred mage stepped forward, summoning a whip of wind that cracked against the ground. "Don't make this hard, boy. Hand over the Blade and the book, and we'll let you live—for now."​Ethan pushed Ella behind him, gripping the Cursed Blade. He couldn't fight three mages—not alone. But he couldn't let them take the book, or the pendant. Not when he was finally close to answers.​Ella tugged his sleeve. "The herb shed," she whispered. "There's a back door to the woods. Go—I'll hold them off."​"You can't—"​"I'm not just a herb student," she said, grinning. She grabbed a handful of leaves from her mortar and blew them at Kael. The leaves exploded into a cloud of purple smoke, making Kael cough and sputter. "Go!"​Ethan didn't hesitate. He sprinted for the herb shed, the Cursed Blade's hum loud in his ears. The wind whip snapped at his heels, missing by inches. He threw open the shed's door, grabbed the book and pendant, and dove through the back exit—into the Whispering Woods.​The woods were darker than he'd imagined, the trees twisted into gnarled shapes that seemed to reach for him. The air smelled like rot and magic, and somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.​He ran until his lungs burned, until he could no longer hear the mages' shouts. When he finally collapsed against a tree, he pulled out the pendant and the book. The pendant glowed, matching the Blade's runes. He flipped to the torn page, and this time, the glowing ink filled in the missing words: Seek the Heart of the Woods. There, the truth waits.​The Cursed Blade's hum turned soft, almost gentle. The black mark on his chest warmed, not with pain, but with something like recognition.​Behind him, a branch creaked.​Ethan spun around, Blade raised. But it wasn't Kael. It was Lira, her silver hair blending with the moonlight.​"You're smarter than I thought," she said, stepping out of the shadows. "But the woods won't protect you. The thing the Blade is calling to— it's not friendly. And Kael's not done. He's got the headmaster's ear now."​Ethan lowered the Blade. "How did you find me?"​Lira held up a small vial of blue liquid—his blood, from when he'd coughed it up after the duel. "I told you. Your grandfather was a friend of my family. I owe it to him to keep you alive." She nodded at the pendant. "That's a Fallen Knight's amulet. It'll lead you to the Heart of the Woods—but be careful. The last time someone went there… it was your grandfather. And he never came back."​The wind picked up, rustling the leaves. Somewhere in the distance, the wolf howled again. Ethan looked at the amulet, then at the woods stretching out before him.​He didn't have a choice. He had to find the Heart. He had to find the truth—about his grandfather, about the Blade, about why he'd been brought to this world.​He stood up, gripping the Blade. "Let's go."​Lira raised an eyebrow. "You want me to come with you? I thought you'd rather be alone."​Ethan smiled, tired but determined. "I've been alone long enough. And if that thing in the woods is as bad as you say… I'll need all the help I can get."​Lira nodded, her cold expression softening for a split second. "Then let's move. The woods don't sleep."​Together, they stepped deeper into the Whispering Woods, the amulet glowing in Ethan's hand, the Cursed Blade humming at his side. Somewhere ahead, the truth waited. And somewhere behind, Kael's mages searched.​Ethan's journey was only just beginning.​