⚔️ **CHAPTER 78 — The Whispered Edge**
Mist clung to the ruins, curling around broken beams and scorched stone like restless spirits. Kael's muscles screamed, hunger gnawed at his belly, and exhaustion pulled at every step—but Centering kept him upright, Iron Mind filtering chaos and pain.
The Council was coming. Kael could feel their presence in every shadow, every rustle of broken wood, every distant echo.
He gripped the cursed sword tighter. Its runes glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat—and a voice hissed inside his mind.
*"Kael… weak, foolish, hungry… they will kill you. You should flee. Or strike… kill… destroy. Do you feel that thrill? That power you could have? Take it. Take it all."*
Kael's jaw tightened. *I survive because I think, because I control… not because I give in to fear.*
*"Control? Ha! You are barely holding your limbs upright. Let me guide you… let me do the thinking. We could carve a path through them—blood, fire, ruin. Oh yes… delicious ruin."*
He shivered. The voice was seductive, dark, almost alive. It promised power, dominance, satisfaction—but Kael clenched his teeth. Centering kept him upright, Iron Mind filtered the worst of the whispers, but the sword's presence was intoxicating.
*"Good… resistance. I like that. It will make the eventual bond… more interesting. You and I, boy… we could be unstoppable… if you only let go a little."*
Kael's eyes swept the ruins. Mist shifted unnaturally—**Rhayel and Tavric moved in tandem, Soryn probed minds, Lysera's storm gathered overhead, and Varynn melted into shadows**. The Council was striking simultaneously, coordinating chaos to crush them.
"Fire!" Kael shouted. Caelin ignited his sword again, flames arcing and shaping the battlefield. Walls of heat blocked Tavric's boulders, arcs of fire forced Rhayel into missteps, smoke concealed Tomas's flanking strikes, and Mireya controlled the edges.
Kael moved, threading Centering and Iron Mind through the chaos, dodging lightning, collapsing beams, and psychic pushes. He felt the cursed sword pulse, whispering again:
*"Here… now… strike! The path opens! No hesitation, no weakness! Blood will answer your hunger!"*
Kael paused mid-step. *Not like this… not like them. I fight… but I don't let it consume me.*
The sword hissed, almost amused. *"Good. You frustrate me… and I may… start to like you. Yes, you are clever, persistent, fragile—but clever. I will take more, little by little… until we are… necessary to each other."*
Kael grimaced but moved forward. Rhayel lunged; Kael dodged, pivoted, and struck with the cursed blade. The sword sang in his hand, sharp, precise—but beneath its guidance was a subtle, malevolent delight.
Caelin swung flames to block Tavric's next strike. Mireya shoved another log off balance. Tomas struck Soryn's psychic focus point. And Kael, blade in hand, threaded balance through chaos, relying on the whispers of the cursed sword—but filtering them carefully, resisting the pull.
By nightfall, the Council withdrew, frustrated and bruised. The ruins glowed faintly with fire and magic, scorched earth marking their retreat.
Kael sank to one knee, chest heaving, the cursed blade humming softly in his grasp.
*"See? You are alive… still clever… and I am starting to care… in my own way, boy,"* it whispered. *"Yes… together, we may survive more than they imagine."*
Kael exhaled slowly, gripping the blade tighter. *I control this… I decide. You follow me, not the other way around.*
The cursed sword hummed again, almost like a purr, satisfied—for now. The storm had passed, but the bond had begun: **dark, dangerous, and… slowly, insidiously attached.**
---