Kael moved after Julian like a predator closing on wounded prey, Soulrender's hunger driving him forward with single-minded intensity. The warehouse guards tried to stop him, forming a desperate line of shields and spears, but they might as well have been standing in the path of a wildfire.
He cut through them without slowing, the blade drinking their souls with savage glee. Each death made him faster, stronger, pushing him beyond human limits into something else entirely.
Behind him, Lyra fought her own battle, her knives finding gaps in armor with surgical precision. She was efficient, lethal, but there was a difference between her kills and Kael's. She took lives. He consumed them.
Julian fled deeper into the warehouse, his elite guards buying him time with their lives. Kael barely registered their faces as he killed them, his entire focus on the man who'd destroyed his world.
The warehouse interior was a maze of crates and cargo, lit by flickering oil lamps that cast dancing shadows across the walls. Kael followed the sound of running footsteps, of panicked breathing, of fear.
He found Julian in a back room, cornered, a crossbow in his shaking hands.
"Stay back!" Julian shouted, aiming at Kael's chest. "I'm warning you!"
Kael walked forward, slow and deliberate. "Do it. Pull the trigger."
Julian fired. The bolt flew true, aimed straight at Kael's heart. Soulrender moved lazily, almost contemptuously, batting the projectile aside.
"Your turn's over," Kael said, raising the blade.
"Wait!" Julian threw the crossbow down, raising his hands. "Wait, please. I can explain everything. The truth about your family, about the sword, about what's really happening here."
"I don't care," Kael said, but he paused, Lyra's earlier question echoing in his mind. How much blood before the scales were balanced?
"You should care," Julian said quickly, sensing the hesitation. "You think I'm the villain here? I'm just a piece in a much larger game. The people who really killed your family, who orchestrated all of this—they're still out there, pulling strings."
"More lies," Kael said, but doubt crept in.
"It's the truth! Look at me, Kael. Really look. Do I seem like someone capable of planning something this elaborate? I'm a merchant, a businessman. I deal in coin and contracts, not assassinations and demon swords." Julian's voice grew desperate. "My father, yes, he was ambitious, ruthless enough to kill for power. But even he was following orders from the Conclave."
"The Conclave?"
"The secret council that really runs the empire. Noble houses, merchant princes, religious leaders—the people with actual power. They wanted the sword activated, wanted someone to bond with it. Your family stood in the way, so they removed that obstacle."
Kael lowered the blade slightly. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because I'm about to die," Julian said. "What reason would I have to lie now? Kill me, and you'll never know the truth. You'll never find the people who really destroyed your family."
It made a sick kind of sense. Kael had always wondered how Julian, for all his cunning, could have orchestrated something so complex. But if he was just a tool, following orders from people with more power...
"Names," Kael demanded. "Give me names."
"Lord Malakar, the regent," Julian said immediately. "Lady Seraphine of House Roe—no, wait, not Lady Seraphine, she's just the house head. But someone in her family is definitely involved. And someone in the Church of Light, high up in their hierarchy."
"How do you know this?"
"Because they recruited me three years ago," Julian admitted. "Told me what needed to happen, promised me power and protection if I played my part. I didn't want to do it, Kael, you have to believe that. But they made it clear—either I helped, or the Voss family would be wiped out completely. At least this way, you survived."
"You call this survival?" Kael gestured at himself, at the demonic blade in his hand. "You turned me into a monster."
"I gave you power," Julian insisted. "The Conclave wanted you dead after you bonded with the sword. I convinced them you could be useful, bought you time to grow stronger. Everything I did, I did to keep you alive."
Kael wanted to believe it was all lies, wanted the simple clarity of pure revenge. But life was never that simple, and enemies were rarely as straightforward as stories suggested.
"Kael," Lyra's voice from the doorway, warning in her tone. "We need to leave. More guards are coming."
Kael looked at Julian, at the man who might be a mastermind or might just be another pawn. The sword urged him to kill, to consume, to feed the endless hunger.
But Kael was more than the sword's hunger.
"You're coming with us," he said to Julian. "You're going to tell me everything about this Conclave. Every name, every plan, every secret. And if I find out you're lying, if any of this is just another manipulation—"
"I'll tell you everything," Julian promised quickly. "I swear it."
Kael grabbed his cousin by the collar, dragging him toward the door. "Lyra, we're leaving."
She gave him a searching look but nodded, leading the way back through the warehouse. Bodies littered the floor, the guards Kael had killed on his way in. Their blood reflected the lamplight like pools of black ink.
They emerged onto the pier to find it transformed. More guards had arrived, at least forty of them, forming a ring around the warehouse entrance. And standing at their head, wearing the silver armor of the city guard captain, was someone Kael recognized.
Captain Warren. The same officer who'd questioned them at the Golden Griffin.
"Kael Voss," Warren called out. "Surrender yourself and the sword. By order of the Merchants' Guild and the City Guard, you are under arrest for murder, theft, and terrorism against the lawful government."
"Terrorism?" Kael said incredulously. "That's new."
"You've killed over thirty people tonight," Warren replied. "That qualifies."
"They attacked us first," Lyra pointed out.
"That's not how the witnesses will testify," Warren said. "Now, lay down the sword and come quietly, or we'll be forced to take you by force."
Kael looked at the guards, at their nervous faces, at the crossbows and spears aimed at him. Forty men. It would be a slaughter.
"Let me go," Julian said quietly beside him. "Tell them I was your hostage. They'll let you leave if you release me unharmed."
"Why would you do that?" Kael asked.
"Because despite everything, you're still family," Julian replied. "And because if you die here, the Conclave wins. They get the sword, they cover up their crimes, and everything your family stood for dies with you."
Kael studied his cousin's face, looking for deception. All he saw was exhaustion and, strangely, something that might have been regret.
"Go," Kael said, releasing him.
Julian stumbled forward, then turned back. "The ornate crate in the warehouse. Take it. Inside is something you'll need."
"What is it?"
"Proof," Julian said. "Of everything I told you."
Then he walked toward Captain Warren, hands raised. "I'm safe. He didn't hurt me. This was all a misunderstanding."
Warren looked between Julian and Kael, clearly not believing a word of it. "Mr. Voss, are you certain—"
"I said I'm fine," Julian snapped, falling back into his authoritative merchant persona. "Now lower your weapons before someone gets hurt unnecessarily."
Warren hesitated, then gestured for his men to stand down. "As you say, sir."
In the confusion, Kael and Lyra slipped back into the warehouse, found the ornate crate Julian had mentioned. It was small enough to carry, locked but not heavily guarded.
They left through a back exit as more guards flooded the front, escaping into the night with their stolen prize and more questions than answers.
* * *
They didn't stop running until they reached the river district, far from the docks and Julian's territory. Lyra found an abandoned boathouse where they could rest, catch their breath, and examine what they'd stolen.
Kael broke open the crate with Soulrender's hilt. Inside were documents, dozens of them, sealed letters and contracts and ledgers. All bearing the seal of the Conclave.
"It's real," Lyra said, reading over his shoulder. "Julian was telling the truth. There really is a secret council pulling strings."
Kael sifted through the papers, his hands shaking with rage as he read. Orders for his family's assassination. Plans for the sword's activation. Names of Conclave members, their ranks, their domains of influence.
Lord Malakar. Cardinal Alexius of the Church of Light. And someone listed only as "The Listener" from House Roe.
"Your enemies are bigger than you thought," Lyra said quietly.
"Good," Kael replied, gripping Soulrender tighter. "I was worried this would be too easy."
She laughed despite everything, a sound that was half exhaustion, half hysteria. "You're insane. You know that?"
"Probably," Kael admitted. He looked at her, this woman who'd followed him into certain death tonight, who'd fought beside him without question. "Thank you. For coming after me. I shouldn't have rushed in like that."
"No, you shouldn't have," Lyra agreed. "But I understand why you did." She moved closer, her hand finding his. "Just promise me you'll think before you act next time. I can't keep saving your ass if you keep throwing yourself into suicide missions."
"You saved my ass?" Kael raised an eyebrow.
"Someone had to cover your blind spots while you were too busy being dramatic and vengeful," she replied, but she was smiling.
The smile faded as she looked at him more seriously. "You could have killed him. Julian. You had the chance. Why didn't you?"
"I don't know," Kael admitted. "Maybe because killing him would have been too easy. Or maybe because he's right, and the real enemies are still out there. Or maybe..." He trailed off.
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe because I'm tired of killing people just because the sword wants me to," Kael finished. "Every time I feed it, I lose a little more of myself. I can feel it, Lyra. The memories slipping away, the humanity fading. If I keep going down this path, I won't just be a monster in appearance. I'll be one in truth."
Lyra squeezed his hand. "Then we find another way. We use these documents to expose the Conclave, turn them against each other. We fight smart instead of just fighting."
"When did you become the voice of reason?" Kael asked.
"Someone has to be," she replied. "And since you're determined to play the tortured revenge protagonist, I guess I'm stuck being the sensible sidekick."
"You're more than a sidekick," Kael said softly.
"I know," Lyra said, and kissed him.
It was different from before—less desperate, more certain. A promise that they'd survive this together, that neither of them was facing the darkness alone.
When they broke apart, Lyra rested her forehead against his. "We should sleep. Tomorrow, we start planning how to take down a secret council of the most powerful people in the empire."
"Just another day in paradise," Kael muttered, but he was smiling.
They lay down on the boat house floor, using their cloaks as makeshift bedding, Lyra's head on Kael's shoulder. Despite everything—the danger, the revelations, the battles yet to come—Kael felt something unexpected.
Peace.
It wouldn't last. He knew that. Tomorrow would bring new threats, new challenges, new enemies.
But tonight, with Lyra beside him and the truth finally in his hands, Kael allowed himself to hope.
Maybe revenge wasn't the end of his story.
Maybe it was just the beginning.
* * *
END OF CHAPTER 27