Elara's POV
The man—Kael, I heard him call himself—stared at me like I'd grown a second blade.
"You can talk?" His voice was rough, broken. "Swords don't talk."
"This one does," I said, my voice echoing directly into his mind. "Get used to it. We're stuck together now."
He tried to drop me. Couldn't. His hand was locked around my hilt like we'd been welded together.
"What did you do to me?" Panic crept into his voice.
"I didn't do anything. You picked me up. That's how soul-bound weapons work—once you claim one, it claims you back." I paused. "Didn't you know that before coming here?"
"I was desperate, not educated." He finally stopped trying to let go and slumped against a tree. Blood soaked through his armor in at least six places. "I needed power to take back my throne. The Forbidden Depths was supposed to give me that."
"Oh, it did. You got me." I tried to sound confident, but being a talking sword was still deeply weird. "I can make you unstoppable. I've watched warriors fight for three hundred years. I know every technique, every weakness, every—"
"Three hundred years?" He looked at me—really looked at my blade—for the first time. "How are you still sane?"
The question hit harder than expected. "Who says I am?"
Silence stretched between us. Then Kael laughed—bitter and broken. "Perfect. I'm bonded to a crazy sword. This is exactly how my life has been going."
"Your life?" Something hot and sharp flared through me. "Try being murdered by your fiancé, then waking up as a sword, then spending three centuries alone in a cave unable to speak, move, or even close your eyes. You want to compare trauma?"
Kael's laugh died. "Your... fiancé killed you?"
"With this blade, actually. Well, a different blade in a different world, but—it's complicated." I forced myself to focus. "The point is, we both got betrayed. We both lost everything. And we both want revenge."
"I don't want revenge," Kael said quietly. "I want my kingdom back. My honor. My life."
"Those are the same thing."
"No. Revenge is about making them hurt. Getting my kingdom back is about being better than they said I was."
I processed that. In three hundred years of silence, I'd imagined revenge a million ways—all of them violent and satisfying. But Kael's approach felt... cleaner somehow. More purposeful.
"Fine," I said. "Help me destroy my enemies, and I'll help you reclaim your throne. Deal?"
"Your enemies are in this world?" Suspicion edged his voice.
"Their descendants are. I can feel it through the sword's memories—the people who forged Soulrend, who created this curse. Their bloodlines still exist." I paused. "And one of them betrayed you."
Kael went very still. "What?"
"The sword knows bloodlines. I can sense them now. That woman who humiliated you at your wedding—Lady Seraphine? Her family created this blade three centuries ago. And your mentor, Grand Duke Matthias? Same bloodline as the general who murdered the empress whose soul became Soulrend."
"You're saying—"
"I'm saying betrayal runs in their blood. They've been doing this for generations. Using people, destroying them, taking what isn't theirs." My voice turned cold. "Just like Marcus and Vivian did to me."
Kael stood slowly, ignoring his injuries. "If what you're saying is true—"
"It is."
"—then they planned this for years. Maybe their whole lives. I never had a chance."
"Neither did I," I agreed. "But we have chances now. Together."
He looked at me again, and this time I saw something shift in his eyes. Recognition. Understanding. The same desperate fury that had kept me conscious through three hundred years of silence.
"Together," he repeated. "A broken prince and a cursed sword."
"The best revenge stories always start with broken people."
Kael almost smiled. Then he collapsed.
"Kael!" I couldn't catch him—I had no hands. Could only watch as he hit the ground, unconscious from blood loss and exhaustion. "No, no, no—don't you dare die on me! I did NOT wait three centuries to get dropped by some prince who doesn't know how to bandage himself!"
He didn't respond. His breathing was shallow, erratic.
Panic flooded through me. I'd just found someone who could hear me, understand me, work with me—and he was dying.
"Help!" I screamed into the forest. "Someone help us!"
Nothing. Just trees and darkness and the sound of Kael's failing heartbeat.
Then I felt it. A presence. Old. Powerful. Familiar.
The voice that whispered wasn't Kael's and wasn't mine.
Finally, the Empress's Echo said, her ancient consciousness stirring inside the blade. After three hundred years, someone worthy has come.
"Who are you?" I demanded.
I am what you will become if you're not careful. A soul trapped in steel, watching century after century pass. Her presence felt sad. Tired. But I can help him. I can save your wielder.
"Then do it!"
There is a price. There is always a price with soul magic.
"I don't care! Save him!"
The price is memory, child. His memories will bleed into yours. Yours into his. You will know each other completely—every secret, every pain, every weakness. There will be no privacy. No walls. No protection.
I hesitated. Total vulnerability. Total exposure. Everything I'd learned to avoid after Marcus and Vivian's betrayal.
But Kael was dying.
And I'd already lost one chance at life. I wouldn't lose this one.
"Do it," I said.
The Empress's magic surged through me—through us. Golden light erupted from my blade, wrapping around Kael's broken body. His wounds began to close. His breathing steadied.
But the price came immediately.
Memories flooded my consciousness—not mine, but Kael's. I saw his childhood, strict and lonely in the palace. His friendship with Davian, genuine once. His love for Seraphine, pure and doomed. His trust in Matthias, betrayed so completely.
And worst of all—I saw the torture. The days in the dungeon. The pain. The moment he realized no one was coming to save him.
"Stop," I whispered, but the memories kept coming.
Then mine flowed into him. My gallery. My swords. Marcus's proposal. Vivian's friendship. The vault. The blade. The darkness.
Everything I was, everything I'd been, laid bare before someone I'd just met.
When it finally stopped, Kael's eyes opened. He stared at me—at the sword in his hand—with complete understanding.
"You loved them," he said softly. "Marcus and Vivian. You really loved them."
"You loved Seraphine," I replied. "Trusted Matthias like a father."
"We're idiots."
"Complete idiots."
We shared a moment of painful understanding. Two people who'd loved the wrong ones. Trusted the wrong ones. Lost everything because we'd been too blind to see the truth.
"The Empress did something to us," Kael said, standing carefully. His wounds were healed but his energy was drained. "I can feel you in my head. See your memories. It's—"
"Intrusive? Violating? Terrifying?"
"I was going to say intimate." He looked uncomfortable. "Too intimate."
"We can panic about that later. Right now—" I felt something shift in the forest. Movement. Multiple someones approaching fast. "We have company."
Kael tensed. "Davian's men?"
"Worse." I'd sensed their bloodline. Felt their magic. "Seraphine's personal guard. They're hunting you."
"How many?"
"Twenty. Maybe thirty."
"I can barely stand."
"Then we fight dirty." Three hundred years of watching warriors had taught me something important. "Honor is for people who have backup. We have each other and rage. That's enough."
Kael raised me—his hand steady despite exhaustion. "Tell me what to do."
"First rule: trust me completely."
"After what we just shared, I don't have a choice."
"Good." I felt the guards getting closer. "Because we're about to find out if three centuries of observation beats actual combat experience."
"And if it doesn't?"
"Then we die together. Which honestly?" I paused. "Still better than three more centuries alone in that cave."
Kael laughed—genuinely this time. "You're absolutely insane."
"Says the man talking to his sword."
The first guard burst through the trees.
And everything I'd learned, everything I'd watched, everything I'd become—it all came down to this moment.
"NOW!" I screamed.