The Old Academy ruins squatted on the eastern edge of Eredor like a rotting tooth, surrounded by rusted fencing and warning signs that nobody bothered to read. Two centuries of neglect had reduced what had once been a magnificent center of magical learning to a maze of crumbling walls and collapsed towers, all of it shrouded in the kind of creeping vegetation that only grew where magic had soaked into the soil.
"Remind me why we're doing this at night?" Kaelen whispered as he and Lia crept through a gap in the fence.
"Because if the Cult is using the ruins for ritual work, they'll be most active after dark," Lia replied, her hands glowing faintly with blue rune-light to illuminate their path. "Shadow magic is stronger when the sun's down. Basic magical theory."
"Right. Of course." Kaelen's hand rested on Soulrender's hilt. The sword had been unusually quiet since they'd left The Drunk Golem, but he could feel it anticipating something. Like a hunting dog catching a scent. "And if we run into cultists?"
"We observe, gather evidence, and retreat. We're here for reconnaissance, not combat." Lia shot him a pointed look. "Which means no using the sword unless absolutely necessary. Every time you draw on its power—"
"I get more Shadow Scars. I know." Kaelen had checked his arm before they left. The marks had darkened since the morning's training, permanent reminders of the price he'd already paid. "I'll be careful."
They moved deeper into the ruins, following a path that Lia had marked on her map. The buildings here had once been dormitories and lecture halls, but now they were hollow shells filled with debris and the nests of things that preferred darkness. Somewhere in the distance, something howled—not quite animal, not quite human.
"What was that?" Kaelen asked.
"Probably a corruption beast. Residual magic sometimes coalesces into semi-sentient entities." Lia's tone was disturbingly casual. "They're usually harmless unless provoked. Usually."
"You have a very unsettling definition of 'usually.'"
They reached what had been the academy's central courtyard, now overgrown with twisted trees that grew in unnatural spirals. At the courtyard's center stood a statue—or what remained of one. The lower half showed a robed figure holding a book, but the upper half had been sheared away, likely during whatever disaster had destroyed the academy.
Lia knelt beside the statue's base, running her fingers over inscriptions that glowed faintly at her touch. "The Star Core node should be directly beneath this courtyard. There." She pointed to what looked like a collapsed section of floor near the ruined statue. "That's probably a sinkhole that formed over the old access tunnel."
"Access tunnel to what, exactly?"
"The node chamber. The academy would have built their most powerful experiments and rituals around direct access to the Star Core's energy." Lia stood, brushing dirt from her knees. "If the Cult knows about this place, that's where they'll be working."
Kaelen peered into the sinkhole. Stone steps descended into darkness, cracked and dangerous-looking but still intact. The air rising from below was cold and smelled of old stone and something else—something that made his skin prickle.
Soulrender stirred at his hip, suddenly alert.
*Down there*, the sword whispered. *Power. So much power. Delicious, intoxicating, *ours* for the taking.*
"The sword's reacting," Kaelen said quietly. "It wants to go down there."
"Of course it does. Star Core energy would be like a feast to a Forbidden Blade." Lia created a small runelight, a sphere of blue illumination that floated above her palm. "All the more reason to be careful. If the sword starts influencing you—"
"I'll tell you. Promise." Kaelen drew a deep breath and started down the steps. "Let's get this over with."
The descent felt longer than it should have been, the steps spiraling down in a tight helix that made Kaelen's inner ear protest. Lia's runelight cast strange shadows on the walls, and more than once Kaelen thought he saw movement in his peripheral vision—shapes that vanished when he turned to look directly at them.
Finally, the steps opened into a corridor. The walls here were covered in elaborate carvings and inlaid with crystalline veins that pulsed with faint light—the physical manifestation of the Star Core's energy flowing through the earth. The temperature had dropped significantly, and their breath misted in the cold air.
"We're close," Lia murmured, studying the crystalline patterns. "These energy flows lead to—"
She stopped abruptly. Ahead, faint light spilled from a doorway. Not the blue-white glow of Star Core energy or Lia's runes, but the sickly purple-black of shadow magic.
They weren't alone down here.
Kaelen and Lia exchanged glances, then crept forward, keeping to the shadows at the corridor's edge. As they approached the doorway, voices became audible—multiple speakers, chanting in unison. The language wasn't any dialect Kaelen recognized, but the rhythm was familiar: ritual magic.
He risked a peek around the doorframe and felt his breath catch.
The node chamber was vast—a natural cavern that had been extensively modified with carved pillars and ritual circles. At its center, a pool of liquid light marked the Star Core node itself, energy so concentrated it had become almost physical. The light should have been pure white, but it was tainted now, shot through with veins of purple-black corruption.
Around the pool stood two dozen cultists in their bone masks, all chanting and channeling shadow magic into the node. Their leader—the same cultist who'd escaped the canal fight, Kaelen realized—stood closest to the pool, arms raised, directing the corruption like a conductor leading an orchestra.
But that wasn't what made Kaelen's blood run cold.
Suspended above the pool, held in place by crackling chains of shadow energy, was a person. A young man, maybe twenty, unconscious or dead. His chest bore ritual markings, and shadow magic was actively being drawn from his body and funneled into the node.
"They're using him as a conduit," Lia breathed in his ear, horror in her voice. "They're sacrificing him to corrupt the node. If they succeed—"
"What happens if they succeed?" Kaelen whispered.
"The node is connected to Eredor's entire magical infrastructure. Corrupting it would spread shadow energy through every mage's connection, every runelight, every enchantment in the city. Thousands would die. Tens of thousands."
The lead cultist's voice rose above the chanting: "Shadow Lord, hear your faithful! We offer this soul and this power as tribute! Break your chains! Return to us! Let the age of darkness begin!"
The corruption in the node pulsed, spreading like ink in water. The suspended victim convulsed, his back arching in silent agony.
Kaelen's hand moved to Soulrender's hilt. "We have to stop them."
"There are twenty-five of them and two of us," Lia hissed. "We need to go back, get Ronan, alert the city guard—"
"That ritual looks pretty far along. Think we have time for that?"
Lia looked at the node, at the spreading corruption, at the dying victim. Her expression shifted from fear to grim determination. "No. We don't."
"Then we do this ourselves." Kaelen started to draw Soulrender, then paused. "How do we stop the ritual?"
"The cultist leader is the keystone—he's directing the energy flows. Take him out, and the ritual collapses." Lia's hands were already moving, tracing complex patterns. "I'll target the shadow chains holding the victim. If we can free him and disrupt the leader simultaneously, we might break the ritual before the corruption becomes permanent."
"Might?"
"Better than standing here watching people die."
Fair point. Kaelen fully drew Soulrender, and shadows immediately wreathed the blade. The sword sang with hunger and approval.
*Yes! Battle! Souls to harvest! Power to consume! Let us feast, wielder!*
"Minimal use," Kaelen muttered to himself, trying to maintain that space of observation Lia had taught him. "Controlled application. I'm the master, not you."
*We shall see*, Soulrender replied, amused.
"On three," Lia said, her hands glowing with building power. "One... two..."
Kaelen charged.
He burst into the chamber at full sprint, Soulrender leading the way, and immediately the cultists' chanting faltered. The lead cultist spun toward him, eyes widening behind the bone mask.
"The Soulrender wielder! Here! Stop him!"
Half the cultists broke from the ritual circle, shadow magic crackling to life in their hands. Kaelen met the first one with a slash that absorbed the cultist's attack and sent him flying with a burst of dark energy. The second got a shadow tendril to the chest, pinning him against a pillar. The third—
Control slipped. Just for a moment, just a heartbeat, but it was enough. The sword's hunger surged, and Kaelen felt himself moving faster than thought, cutting through cultists with brutal efficiency. Blood sprayed. Screams echoed. The sword drank deep.
*More! YES! FEED US!*
"Kaelen!" Lia's voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the bloodlust. "The leader! Focus on the leader!"
Right. The mission. Kaelen wrenched back control, his arm burning where new Shadow Scars were forming, and locked eyes with the lead cultist across the chamber. The man had abandoned the ritual and was now channeling massive amounts of shadow magic, building up for a devastating attack.
"You think you can stop the Shadow Lord's return, boy?" the cultist snarled. "You're just another fool wielding a power you don't understand!"
He unleashed the attack—a wave of shadow energy that roared across the chamber like a tsunami. Kaelen barely got a defensive barrier up in time, shadows clashing against shadows, the impact driving him back several feet. His boots scraped against stone as he fought to hold his ground.
Behind the cultist, Lia's attack struck. Her runes detonated against the shadow chains holding the victim, and they shattered in a cascade of light and dark. The young man fell, and Lia caught him with a cushioning spell, lowering him gently to the ground.
"The sacrifice!" the lead cultist screamed. "You've ruined—"
He didn't get to finish. With the ritual broken and the leader's attention divided, Kaelen saw his opening. He poured a measured amount of power into Soulrender—not the wild, consuming surge from before, but a controlled flow—and launched himself forward.
The blade met the cultist's hastily raised dagger, and this time there was no contest. Soulrender sheared through the weapon, through the cultist's defenses, through his bone mask. The man's eyes widened in surprise and terror, and then Kaelen's sword found his heart.
The cultist's body convulsed once, then went still. His shadow magic dissipated like smoke, and his masked face locked in a final expression of shock.
*Delicious*, Soulrender purred as it absorbed the cultist's dying energy. *More. Give us more.*
But the fight was over. The remaining cultists, seeing their leader dead and the ritual broken, scattered—some fleeing up the stairs, others disappearing into side tunnels. Within seconds, the chamber was empty except for Kaelen, Lia, the unconscious victim, and a pile of cultist bodies.
Kaelen looked down at the sword in his hand, at the blood dripping from its blade, at the shadows still writhing around it like living things. He felt sick. He'd killed before—it was part of being a knight, part of being a mercenary—but this had been different. This had felt too easy. Too good.
"Kaelen." Lia was at his side, her hand on his arm. "Let go of the power. Now."
He did, releasing his hold on the sword's energy. The shadows withdrew, and pain exploded across his body as the price came due. He looked at his arm and saw new Scars—at least five of them, dark lines of corruption spreading from his hand toward his shoulder.
"How many?" he asked quietly.
Lia's diagnostic runes appeared, circling him. Her expression grew troubled. "Eighteen total. You used more power than in the training session. A lot more."
Eighteen out of fifty. More than a third of the way to becoming a shadowfiend.
"But we stopped the ritual," Kaelen said, trying to find something positive. "We saved the city. That's worth it, right?"
"Is it?" Lia moved to the victim, checking his vital signs. "He's alive. Weak, corrupted, but alive. He'll need extensive purification treatment. And the node..." She looked at the pool of light, still tainted with shadow corruption. "The damage is reversible, but it'll take time. Weeks, maybe months of purification work."
"So we won."
"We survived. There's a difference." Lia stood, supporting the unconscious victim. "We need to leave. Now. The city guard will have felt the magical disturbance, and if they find us here—"
A slow clap echoed through the chamber.
Kaelen spun, Soulrender coming up in a defensive position. A figure stood in the doorway—a man in expensive robes, middle-aged, with sharp features and eyes that glittered with intelligence and something darker. He wasn't wearing a cultist's mask, but the shadow energy radiating from him was unmistakable.
"Bravo," the man said, his voice cultured and amused. "Truly, bravo. You kill my operative, disrupt my ritual, and corrupt yourself further in the process. And you think you've won." He smiled, and it wasn't a pleasant expression. "You have no idea what you've actually accomplished, do you?"
"Who are you?" Kaelen demanded.
"Marcus Blackwood. Former Arch-Mage of Valorian, current seeker of truth, and the man who's been waiting for Soulrender to resurface for three decades." Marcus's gaze fixed on the blade in Kaelen's hand, hungry and calculating. "That sword and I have unfinished business, boy. And so, I think, do we."
He raised his hand, and shadow magic coalesced around him—far more power than any cultist had displayed, refined and controlled with the skill of a master mage. "But not tonight. Tonight, you've given me exactly what I needed: confirmation that Soulrender has bonded with a new wielder. We'll meet again, Kaelen Voss. And when we do..."
He smiled again, colder this time.
"I'll teach you what that blade really is. And what it will make you become."
Marcus stepped backward through a portal of shadow energy that hadn't been there a moment before, and vanished. The portal snapped shut, leaving no trace.
Silence fell in the chamber.
"That," Kaelen said eventually, "could have gone better."
Lia let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "You think? Come on. We're leaving. And then we're having a very long conversation about Marcus Blackwood, because if he's involved with the Cult..." She shook her head. "This just got so much worse."
They fled the ruins, carrying the unconscious victim between them, leaving behind the corrupted node and the bodies of cultists. Above them, Eredor's bells began to toll—warning or alarm, Kaelen couldn't tell.
He looked down at his scarred arm, felt the weight of Soulrender at his hip, and thought about Marcus's words.
*I'll teach you what that blade really is.*
Kaelen had a sinking feeling he already knew.
And he was terrified of being right.