THE BLADE OF X
Chapter 1 — The One Chosen
The night after the Shinooi attack, Codorent did not sleep.
Torches burned on the walls until dawn, their flames flickering against the carved Sole wards that now shimmered faintly across the city's perimeter. Each ward pulsed once every few seconds — a reminder that the Council was on edge. Patrols doubled, and even the air felt heavier, as if the city itself was holding its breath.
Heydan had felt the weight of every glance that morning. In the eyes of Codorent's people, he was already the hero of last night's battle — the one who had driven the monster away. The story had grown with every telling: how he had stood his ground, how his Sole mark had burned brighter than the moon, how the Shinooi had fled in terror.
He didn't bother correcting them.
Why should he? He was strong — strong by birth, strong by training. It wasn't arrogance if it was true.
By afternoon, he found himself in the west market, the air thick with the smell of roasted meat and spiced bread. Merchants called out to passersby, selling everything from salted fish to dyed fabrics. A lute player strummed lazily on the corner, his music almost drowned out by the chatter of bargaining voices. For the first time since the attack, the city seemed… almost normal.
Almost.
The moment broke with a scream.
It cut through the marketplace like a blade, silencing the crowd. Heydan's head snapped toward the northern gates. A ripple of darkness — not shadow, but something colder, heavier — seeped across the cobblestones, spreading like ink in water. From it stepped two Shinooi, smaller than last night's beast, but their claws still dripped with killing intent.
The market erupted in panic. Stalls overturned. Fruit rolled underfoot as people shoved past one another in a desperate rush to escape. Guards shouted orders, forming a shaky line to block the creatures' path.
And then Heydan heard it — a voice that froze him in place.
"Hiro! Get back!"
Pushing through the crowd, Heydan caught sight of his younger brother. Hiro stood in the open street, his arms spread wide. Behind him, three small children clung to each other, too terrified to move. One of the Shinooi — its form like a twisted shadow given teeth — lowered itself into a crouch and sprang.
The world seemed to slow.
Heydan's breath caught, his muscles tensed, but before he could move, something else did.
A pulse erupted from Hiro — not light, not heat, but a deep, cold surge that made the very air shiver. It flowed outward from his chest, wrapping his limbs, threading into his fingertips. Heydan's eyes widened as a mark flared to life on Hiro's skin — not the pale silver-white of his own, but black edged in blood-red, each line burning with quiet power.
And then, as if answering an unspoken call, a weapon formed in Hiro's grip.
The X Blade.
Its surface was a paradox of darkness and light, shadow and glow shifting over its edge, the hilt marked by runes that seemed to breathe. The weapon pulsed once, and the Shinooi hesitated mid-lunge.
Hiro moved.
He was faster than Heydan had ever seen him — faster than he should be. The Blade carved through the first Shinooi in three sharp strikes, each cut leaving trails of fading light. The creature dissolved into black smoke with a hollow hiss.
The second Shinooi shrieked and darted toward him. Hiro turned, the Blade's power flaring brighter, and brought it down in a single, decisive slash. The sound was almost like glass breaking before the monster disintegrated entirely.
Silence swept the market.
Hiro stood panting, his grip trembling, the weapon humming faintly before vanishing in motes of light. The three children broke free and ran toward the safety of the crowd. Guards rushed past, scanning for any lingering threat.
Heydan… could not move.
It wasn't possible.
The X Blade was supposed to choose him.
---
Their father arrived moments later, striding through the parting crowd. Veyren's eyes went first to Hiro's newly awakened mark, then to the fading traces of the Blade's energy still hanging in the air. For a heartbeat, his face was unreadable — a flicker of pride, shadowed by something heavier.
"It's chosen," he said quietly, almost to himself.
Heydan's voice was sharp enough to cut. "This isn't right."
Veyren's gaze shifted to him. "The Blade chooses."
"He's never trained for it," Heydan snapped. "Never fought for it. He's—"
"That's enough." The steel in Veyren's tone silenced him instantly. "Whether either of you like it or not, the Blade has decided."
Hiro, still catching his breath, glanced between them. His voice was small, almost apologetic. "I didn't mean for—"
"You didn't earn it," Heydan said, the words tasting like iron. The crowd had begun to murmur again, whispers spreading like wildfire. Heydan felt every eye on them, every unspoken thought.
Veyren stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Hiro's shoulder. "Both of you will return home. We'll speak there."
But even as they turned to leave, Heydan's jaw clenched. His mark still burned faintly, but it was nothing compared to the memory of the Blade in his brother's hands.
If fate had decided… then fate could be broken.
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TO BE CONTINUED...