Cedric stood frozen for several long seconds, his weathered face pale as death.
Finally, he released a heavy breath and turned to face the assembled group.
"Behind this wall," he said slowly, each word carefully measured, "is an executioner's blade that no one has ever been able to use. No one has even been able to hear it call to them."
Kain stepped forward, his armor clinking softly in the silent vault. "What do you mean, Grandmaster? Candidates have tested every blade in this vault. How could there be one we don't know about?"
"Because I kept it hidden," Cedric admitted. His hand moved to rest against the blank stone wall, almost reverently.
"This blade belonged to a high-ranking vampire in noble society. She was stronger than a count-class vampire. Much stronger. I was able to slay her myself, but it was the hardest battle of my life. I nearly died in the process."
The shock rippled through the assembled candidates like a physical wave. Even Marius had gone quiet, his rage temporarily forgotten in the face of this revelation.
Kain's voice held disbelief. "You never told me about this. In all the years I've served as Vice Captain, you never once mentioned—"
"Because I thought it best to keep it sealed away," Cedric interrupted. "The vampire was too powerful. Even in death, even bound as a blade, I feared what might happen if someone tried to wield her power. So I had this section of the wall built to hide her. To keep her separated from the other blades."
He removed his gauntlet, revealing his scarred hand underneath. Then he pressed his bare palm flat against the stone.
The runes that had been invisible moments before suddenly blazed to life across the wall's surface. They glowed with an intense blue light that made everyone shield their eyes.
The stone began to rumble, a deep grinding sound that echoed through the vault.
Slowly, the wall began to recede. Stone sliding against stone with the sound of ancient mechanisms grinding to life after years of disuse.
Dust and small fragments of rock fell away as the hidden chamber was revealed.
And there, mounted on a simple iron bracket in the center of the small alcove, was the blade.
It was massive—a greatsword, easily six feet long from pommel to tip. But unlike every other executioner's blade in the vault, this one was different.
Vastly different.
Most executioner blades resembled ordinary weapons. Steel with a vampire's heart embedded where the hilt met the blade, a core of crystallized blood and muscle that pulsed with faint light. Tools of war.
This blade was both a work of art and a nightmare.
The entire weapon was a combination of red and black. Not painted or dyed, but as if the metal itself had been forged from blood and shadow.
The blade's edge gleamed crimson in the torchlight, while veins of black ran through it like corrupted blood vessels.
The crossguard was black as midnight, shaped like twisted thorns or clawed fingers reaching outward.
The grip was wrapped in what looked like black leather, and the pommel held a sphere of a deep red crystal that pulsed like a beating heart.
But it was the aura around the weapon that made everyone take an involuntary step back.
Power radiated from the blade in visible waves.
The air around it shimmered and distorted.
The torches nearest to the alcove flickered and dimmed, as if the weapon itself was consuming their light.
The moment the hidden chamber fully opened, and Vlad laid eyes on the blade, something changed.
Every voice in his head went silent.
All at once. Hundreds of voices that had been clamoring for his attention ceased.
The sudden absence of sound was almost more jarring than the noise had been.
Then the seductive voice returned, clear and powerful, drowning out everything else.
'Your finger healed, my darling.'
I blinked, looking down at my right hand. She was right. The broken bone had knitted itself back together, and the pain was gone entirely.
His vampire regeneration had fixed it while he'd been distracted by the chaos of voices.
'Make it look like you're popping it back into place. Don't let them see it's already healed. You need to avoid suspicion.'
I didn't question it. I grabbed my index finger and made a show of gritting my teeth and snapping it back into position with an audible pop. Several candidates winced at the sound.
'Good boy,' the voice purred with approval. 'Now come to me. Touch me. I've waited so long for this moment.'
My feet moved without conscious thought. I walked toward the alcove, my eyes locked on the crimson blade.
Everyone else seemed to fade into the background: Cedric, Kain, Marius, and the other candidates. Nothing existed except me and the weapon.
'I made them all stop talking,' she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. 'Every other blade in this vault. I silenced them so you would hear only me. So you would choose only me. As it was always meant to be.'
I reached out, my hand extending toward the grip.
The moment my skin made contact with the blade, everything changed.
Spikes erupted from the grip, dozens of them, each one as thin as a needle but sharp as razors.
They pierced through my palm and fingers, sinking deep into my flesh.
Blood began to seep from my hand immediately, running down the grip and dripping onto the stone floor in steady drops.
The blade was drinking from me, feeding on my blood like it was starving.
"What the—" Thomas started to say.
"Why is there blood?" Marius demanded, his voice sharp with accusation. "What's happening to his hand?"
Kain stepped forward quickly, his voice calm and authoritative despite the situation. "That's how executioner blades work. The blade feeds off your blood. That's how you access its power, how you form the bond. Every executioner goes through this during their first contact with their blade."
But something was wrong. My vision was already blurring at the edges. The world tilted sideways, and my legs gave out beneath me.
I collapsed to the stone floor, the massive greatsword falling with me.
The weapon landed on top of my chest with a heavy thud, pinning me to the ground.
Everything went dark.
"Vlad!" Cedric rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside the unconscious boy.
Kain was right behind him.
He reached for the blade, trying to pull it free from Vlad's grip, trying to separate the weapon from my bleeding hand.
The sword wouldn't budge.
No matter how hard Kain pulled, no matter what angle he tried, my fingers remained locked around the grip in a death hold. The spikes were still embedded in my flesh, still drawing blood.
"It won't come off!" Kain's voice now held genuine concern. "Grandmaster, we need to—"
"Don't bother," Cedric said quietly, placing a restraining hand on Kain's armored shoulder. "That blade is special. Different from every other weapon in this vault."
"What do you mean?" Kain demanded, frustration bleeding into his tone.
Cedric looked down at my unconscious body and the crimson blade lying across my chest. "The vampire who became that blade... she was from Clan Ciro."