The first clash had been thunder. The second was an earthquake.
Steel rang out again and again, every strike sparking in the half-ruined temple. Kaelen's blade, long and radiant, cut through the dust-choked air with the precision of a Solar Guard captain drilled from childhood. Each swing was not only a strike but a doctrine, a lesson, a sermon of steel declaring: Order will prevail.
Lyra's smaller sabers darted in, quicksilver against sunlight. She moved like a predator, steps light on fractured mosaic tiles, her cloak snapping behind her in violent arcs. The twin blades caught Kaelen's strikes, deflected, slid away, only for him to batter back twice as hard.
Behind them, Elian staggered, clutching the dagger that pulsed with cold shadow. He wanted to help—needed to—but every time he raised the blade, the whispers surged louder.
"Kill him. He doubts you. He would chain you. Split him open and drink the light."
"No," Elian hissed through clenched teeth, his voice lost beneath the storm of clashing steel. Sweat slid down his face. The dagger burned cold in his palm, like ice pressed against bone. He tried to focus on the stars overhead—the fractured dome let in slivers of starlight—but the light bent wrong when it touched the dagger, funneling into it, feeding the void.
Kaelen noticed. Of course he noticed. His gaze snapped past Lyra, locking on Elian with the weight of a judgment. "You feel it, don't you? That rot in your hand. It's whispering to you. I can see it!" His blade hammered against Lyra's, sparks leaping, but his words were aimed at Elian. "You are already half-swallowed!"
"Shut up!" Lyra snarled, driving forward with both sabers, trying to push Kaelen back. Her strikes were sharp, unpredictable, all jagged edges and sudden lunges—fighting like someone who had grown up in alley brawls, not polished training halls. She managed to force Kaelen a step back, then two, but his discipline was a fortress. He caught her blades on his own, twisted, and slammed the pommel of his sword toward her temple.
Lyra ducked at the last instant. The blow skimmed her braid, and the force of it still drove her to her knees.
Kaelen loomed, blade arcing down for the finishing strike.
"Elian!" she barked.
He moved before thinking. The void surged with glee, wrapping around his muscles like invisible chains pulling taut. He lunged forward, dagger raised. His hand shook, his breath ragged, but the dagger wanted. It leapt toward Kaelen as if guiding his arm, black light trailing behind it.
Kaelen twisted, his blade intercepting. Steel met shadow with a sound that was not metal on metal but something deeper—like stone grinding on bone. A wave of cold burst outward, extinguishing the nearest braziers. The temple dimmed, shadows thickening.
Elian staggered back, heart pounding. His knees buckled. That surge—that wasn't him. It had felt like something else had worn his skin for a heartbeat.
Kaelen's face was pale, but his voice thundered. "You see?! That is not your strength—it is theirs! The Umbra already has its claws in you!"
Lyra rolled to her feet, fury snapping in her eyes. "And what would you have him do, knight? Crawl to your masters, beg forgiveness, then burn on your pyres? You'd rather kill him now than give him a chance!"
Kaelen's jaw tightened, but his strikes didn't slow. He pressed her back, each blow raining down like a hammer on an anvil. The temple floor cracked under his boots. "Better he die by my blade than doom the world by his weakness!"
The fight became a storm. Kaelen's precision cut arcs of silver fire. Lyra blurred, ducking, weaving, slashing low to cripple, high to blind. Sparks flew, tiles shattered, fragments of stained glass crunched beneath their boots. The ruined mosaics of sun-spirals and constellations were ground to dust by their fury.
Elian stumbled among the debris, useless, torn between joining and collapsing. His heart screamed to help Lyra—every breath she risked was for him—but the dagger pulsed like a second heart, hungering. He clutched his chest, whispering through gasps, "Not yours… not yours…"
The stars above flickered. Just briefly, like candles guttering. And Elian felt it: something vast, turning its attention. Watching. The void's whispers thickened, a chorus now, a thousand voices slithering inside his skull.
"Use me. End him. Rip the knight open and let his faith spill out. You need only say yes."
"Elian!" Lyra cried again. Her left saber spun from her hand as Kaelen's strike disarmed her. She barely caught his follow-up with her remaining blade. The force drove her against a crumbling pillar, cracks spiderwebbing behind her.
He raised his sword high. "Step aside, pirate! This ends now!"
And Elian finally moved.
He didn't remember crossing the floor, only the rush of air, the crunch of stone underfoot, the dagger dragging him like a leash. He slammed into Kaelen's side, shoulder first, driving the knight off balance. Kaelen grunted, stumbling a step, but his strength was a wall. He pivoted, blade flashing, and Elian's dagger caught it again.
The clash screamed through the temple, louder this time. A ripple of black light blasted outward, tearing across the floor. Mosaics shattered into powder. Dust filled the air, choking, blinding.
Kaelen's teeth were bared, his face inches from Elian's. "Do you feel proud? That power isn't yours—it's the Umbra's! Every time you draw on it, you drag us all closer to the abyss!"
Elian's breath shook. His arm trembled against the knight's strength. The dagger quivered, humming, eager. "I didn't ask for this! I don't want it!"
"But you use it!" Kaelen roared, shoving him back. Their blades disengaged with a crack like thunder. "And that makes you a danger to every soul in Aetheria!"
Lyra lunged in from the side, her remaining saber scoring a line of blood across Kaelen's cheek. He snarled, twisting to parry, but she was already spinning away, landing beside Elian, chest heaving. "Then maybe you should stop treating him like a monster and start asking why the stars chose him in the first place!"
Kaelen froze for half a heartbeat. The words cut deeper than her blade. His eyes flicked to Elian, shadow-soaked, trembling, yet still resisting the whispers clawing at his mind.
Then his jaw locked, and his blade lifted again. "The stars do not choose corruption. This ends with me."
He charged.
Elian barely raised the dagger in time. Kaelen's strike hammered down, sparks erupting. Lyra shoved against Kaelen's side, but he turned, elbow slamming into her ribs. She gasped, crumpling to the floor.
Elian was left alone against him.
Sweat poured down his face. The whispers screamed now, drowning thought. He could end this—one lunge, one surrender, and Kaelen would be gone. The dagger thirsted for it. His vision swam with shadows.
But behind him, Lyra groaned, pushing herself up despite the blow. She spat blood, eyes burning with defiance. "Don't… give in… Elian…"
Her voice cut through the whispers. Thin as a thread of starlight—but enough.
Elian tightened his grip. Not surrender. Not yet.
The two blades locked again, light against shadow, sparks scattering like falling stars. Kaelen's face was grim, resolute, unyielding. Elian's was raw, desperate, streaked with fear and defiance.
The temple trembled under their clash.
And as dust rained from the fractured ceiling, a deep rumble echoed—distant yet growing. Something vast was stirring. Watching. Drawn closer by every strike.