It moved without a wielder.
The Ebon Vein Sword floated in the air, pulsing with crimson veins that leaked tendrils of whispering mist. Each motion it made wasn't a swing—it was a memory, replayed like a cursed echo. Its blade struck the air, and the air shattered like glass.
Raen flickered sideways just in time.
Talin ducked beneath a horizontal slash and spun, parrying the tail-end of a ripple the sword had left behind.
"That's not a sword!" Talin shouted. "It's a nightmare that learned choreography!"
"No talking," Nira snapped from the back of the chamber, rune scrolls unfurling in her hands. "Buy me twenty more seconds!"
Raen planted his feet, ignoring the throb in his ribs. His blade felt like a twig in the face of the Veinblade's pressure, but his whispers surged—Kavran, the Flicker Swordsman, and now others... one whispering rhythm, another pain tolerance, and a third: counterweight pivoting.
The Veinblade vanished.
Raen's eyes widened. "Talin, left!"
Too late.
The blade slammed into Talin's shoulder, tossing him across the chamber. He crashed through a collapsed pillar with a grunt but still rolled back to his feet.
"Armor cracked," Talin muttered. "So's my patience."
The sword now hovered between them, its tip pointed downward like a judge pronouncing sentence. The air crackled.
Raen whispered to his blade, "Remember how she moved…"
One whisper rose to meet him—female, old, breathless.
"Two steps, break tempo, shift balance… redirect fate."
Raen's eyes glowed faintly. He nodded.
The Veinblade surged again.
Raen moved with it, not against—slipping past its arc like a shadow. He dropped low and slammed his sword into its hilt—not to break it, but to anchor it mid-motion.
A heartbeat pause.
"TALIN!"
Talin appeared in that single instant, sword arcing upward.
His blade struck the Veinblade with a resounding clang, hurling it off trajectory.
The corrupted sword rebounded midair—but now its mist had begun to distort, flaring unpredictably. It was destabilizing.
"It's losing cohesion!" Nira called. "Keep the pressure up—NOW!"
She activated her rune array. Lines of glowing blue light exploded across the chamber floor, forming a web of containment.
The Veinblade screeched.
It wasn't a sound—it was a memory of rage. Raen winced as his mind filled with images of betrayal, shattered pacts, and blood-soaked promises made at midnight.
"Kavran!" Raen shouted mentally. "How do I break it?"
The old sword spirit's voice growled in his bones.
"You don't break Veinblades. You bind them—with your own memory."
Raen's eyes snapped open.
He stepped into the web, directly in front of the Veinblade, sword lowered.
"You're not the only one full of broken pasts."
He remembered everything:
—The betrayal by Kael.
—The moment he couldn't stand.
—The whisper of the first dead blade he touched.
"Come on then," he said. "Eat me, if you can stomach what I've become."
The Veinblade lunged—straight into the center of the rune web.
Nira activated the final seal.
The chamber detonated in a shockwave of light and scream.
---
Silence followed.
Dust rained gently from the ceiling. Raen knelt at the center, both hands still on his sword. The Veinblade floated inches from his face—now cracked, dimmed, and inert.
Talin limped over, his cloak torn. "That was suicidal."
Raen exhaled shakily. "I know."
Nira approached, holding the binding scroll. "It's sealed for now. But whatever's in that sword… it wanted you, Raen."
He stared at the dark steel.
Not a weapon.
Not anymore.
A prison.
A mirror.
And something inside it… still watched.