⚔️ **CHAPTER 77 — Whisper of the Blade**
The mist lay thick over the jagged ruins, curling around broken stones and scorched trees like living fingers. Kael's body ached, every muscle trembling, hunger gnawed deep—but Centering and Iron Mind kept him upright.
The Council had vanished for now, leaving behind only broken terrain, scorched earth, and the echo of threat. Yet Kael sensed something new waiting—a presence that hummed beneath his skin, a pull toward something hidden.
Near a shattered altar, half-buried under rubble, a sword shimmered faintly in the mist. Its blade was dark steel, etched with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. Kael's instincts screamed caution—but the sword called to him.
As he reached out, a voice echoed—not aloud, but **inside his mind**.
*"Kael… pick me up. You need me… and I need you."*
He froze. No one else could hear it. Only him.
*"I am your ally… your tool… your curse. I can guide you, show you paths, whisper strategies, but beware. I am not gentle. I take as much as I give."*
Kael's hand hovered above the hilt. Hunger, exhaustion, and the lingering Council threat made his chest tighten. *Could this sword be another weapon… or another danger?*
*"Do you trust yourself, boy? Or are you too weak to wield me?"*
Kael swallowed. His mind spun. *I have survived ambushes, storms, and psychic assault. I can survive this… right?*
*"You will survive… if you listen. But listen too much, and I will take more than you know. Your mind… your soul… I will test every fiber."*
Kael gritted his teeth. He grasped the hilt. The moment his fingers wrapped around it, a shiver ran through him—cold, sharp, almost alive. The runes flared, then settled into a steady glow.
*"Good,"* the sword whispered. *"We are bound now. I am yours… but you are mine. The Council will not anticipate me… and they will not anticipate you."*
He swung it experimentally. The blade moved with his thought as much as his body. Each movement felt lighter, sharper, more precise—but at the edge of sensation, Kael felt **a pull inside his mind**, a subtle tug at his focus. Centering and Iron Mind worked harder, threading through the new chaos.
Mireya's voice broke through the fog. "Kael? Did you find something?"
Kael looked at her. "…A sword. It's… alive. I think it's… cursed."
Tomas's eyes narrowed. "Cursed swords are never just tools. It will demand something from you."
Caelin sheathed his flaming blade, eyeing the new weapon with caution. "If it can fight, it could be useful… but Kael, trust yourself. Don't let it control you."
Kael nodded slowly, feeling the pulse of the sword. *It speaks to me… it listens… it understands—but it's dangerous.*
*"Good,"* the sword whispered again. *"We will walk the path together. The Council will come again… and when they do, we will be ready. But remember… your mind is fragile. I feed on doubt. I sharpen fear. Use me wisely."*
Kael exhaled, gripping the hilt tighter. His companions watched silently. Hunger, exhaustion, psychic assault, storms, fire, and shadows—all were already formidable. Now, a sword that whispered inside his mind added **another edge to the battle, both dangerous and necessary**.
The ruins stretched ahead, fog thick, Council traps unseen. Kael raised the cursed blade. It hummed in response, eager, alive, whispering only to him.
*"Let's begin."*
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