Lightning cracked across the Hollow Valley sky, the thunderclap shaking the bones of the earth. Rain came like falling knives, slicing down the cliffs and staining the paths with red mud. Within the cave of the Seer, Tikshn stood still, eyes closed, as if trying to remember a dream that wasn't his own.
"They are awakening," the Seer whispered, crouched by her flames. "Not just the swords—but the ones meant to wield them. The chosen and the cursed."
Ryujin stood near the entrance, watching the valley below. Shapes moved in the distance, fleeting and unnatural. "The Forgotten Blades," he muttered. "Long exiled, long believed dead. But not dead—only waiting."
Tikshn opened his eyes. "Then they'll come for me."
"They'll come for the Tomb," the Seer corrected. "You're only the gate."
Alia pulled her soaked cloak tighter. "Then let them come. We'll make them regret waking."
---
They did not sleep that night.
By morning, signs of movement had multiplied. Smoke trails in the eastern ridge. Bird calls warped with dark ki. The valley trembled beneath unnatural weight.
Ryujin approached Tikshn with solemnity. "Before we leave this place, you must learn the Dance of Breaking. It is the final form I swore never to teach—but now, I see it was always meant for you."
Tikshn nodded. "Teach it."
They trained atop a cliff for hours under the harsh eye of the storm. The Dance of Breaking was unlike anything Tikshn had learned. It wasn't a form to kill—it was a form to unmake. Every stance, every swing of Silver Sorrow was forged to sever more than flesh. It was meant to tear through memory, will, essence.
It was meant to destroy the idea of the enemy.
As dusk fell, Tikshn collapsed in exhaustion, gasping. Blood trickled from his fingertips where the sword had bit back.
Ryujin knelt beside him. "That's enough. You've grasped its essence. But beware. This dance takes as much as it gives."
---
They left Hollow Valley by moonrise.
But they did not go far before the road was closed.
A wall of mist blocked the pass, thick as stone and reeking of death. From within it came footsteps. Dozens. Then hundreds.
The mists parted—and an army of warriors stepped forth. Each bore an ancient sword, each face masked in bone and ash. The Forgotten Blades. Warped remnants of old clans and shattered sects. Men who had once walked the path of honor, now twisted by the Tomb's call.
At their front was a massive figure, cloaked in red-black robes with a horned helm. He held a blade chained to his wrist, as if the sword had refused to be carried willingly.
He spoke, and the world seemed to dim.
"Tikshn. Child of Ash. Bearer of Sorrow. You woke the Tomb, and now you must bleed for it."
Tikshn stepped forward, Silver Sorrow humming in anticipation. "And you are?"
"I am Velkar of the Hollow Flame. The First Forgotten."
Ryujin's breath caught. "He was thought dead five centuries ago. He fell in the Blood Rebellion."
"He didn't fall," the Seer's voice came from behind. "He was consumed."
Velkar raised his chained blade. The warriors behind him followed.
Tikshn looked at Alia and Ryujin. "No running. No hiding."
They nodded.
Then he stepped forward alone.
He danced.
The Dance of Breaking began with silence. Then motion. Then devastation.
The first row of warriors collapsed before they could blink. Tikshn spun, slashed, and shattered their blades mid-air. Silver Sorrow howled through the night, a song of unraveling.
Velkar bellowed and charged.
The clash between him and Tikshn cracked the earth. Flame met sorrow, fury met precision. Velkar struck with sheer force—Tikshn with soul-cutting precision.
Their blades locked. Velkar growled, "You think you can stop what's begun? The Tomb calls to all of us."
Tikshn's eyes burned. "Then I'll silence it."
With one final movement, he unleashed the true final strike of the Dance of Breaking—a cut that severed the bond between Velkar and his cursed blade.
The chain shattered.
Velkar screamed as the sword turned on him, drinking his soul through his arm. He fell to his knees—and dissolved into mist.
The army stood frozen.
Then, without a word, they turned and walked back into the fog.
---
Silence returned.
Ryujin collapsed, laughing in disbelief. "You just broke a legend."
Alia rushed to Tikshn, catching him as he fell. His skin was pale, his breath shallow.
The Seer arrived last, eyes turned skyward. "You've done what none have done. But this is not the end."
Tikshn opened his eyes weakly. "It never is."
Far beyond the cliffs, the Sword Tomb pulsed. And far across Murim, other Forgotten Blades
urned their gaze toward the rising storm.
*