The air was thick with the damp chill of the ruin’s heart, every breath tasting faintly of earth and decay. The flickering light of Hargan’s lantern offered just enough light to cast long, shifting shadows that danced with each flicker of the flame but didn’t reach far enough to reveal more than the next few steps of the path.

  “You sure this is the right wreck?” Hargan asked, kicking a piece of rubble down the tunnel that clattered with every bounce. “Just looks like an old castle. And why aren’t we taking the front entrance?”

  “Because,” Veyla replied from the front, her voice low, “I don’t fancy stepping into any of the old traps. Ruins like these always have traps leftover from when they were still inhabited.”

  Kael sighed. “Safer,” he echoed, his tone dry. “You mean this crumbling, dark passage that could collapse on us at any second?”

  “You’re welcome to wait outside with the rest of the crew if you’re scared, birdie,” Veyla said, shooting a glare at him over her shoulder. “Just don’t play your lute.”

  “I’m not scared,” he muttered, walking past Hargan. “I was just making my unease known.”

  The tunnel sloped downward, narrowing until they had to crouch to avoid the jagged stone teeth of the ceiling. A faint hum began to build in the air, subtle at first but growing stronger with every step. It wasn’t a sound so much as a vibration that thrummed in Kael’s bones, resonating uncomfortably with the lute.

  “You feel that?” he asked, his voice tight.

  Hargan grunted, his hand resting on the hilt of his axe. “Feel what?”

  “That... hum. Like the air’s alive or something.” Kael paused, adjusting the strap of his lute and running his fingers over its polished wood. “It’s getting louder… but it might just be my magic again.”

  Veyla stopped abruptly, holding up a hand for silence. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the darkness ahead. “He’s right. We’re close.”

  The hum seemed to intensify, a low pulse that grew in rhythm with Kael’s racing heart. Hargan muttered something under his breath, his broad shoulders tense.

  Then they rounded a corner, and the tunnel opened into a vast chamber. The lantern’s light barely reached the edges of the room, but what it illuminated was enough to make Kael’s breath catch.

  Piles of gold and gems covered most of the ground and stacked up to a meter tall, hiding even more treasure out of sight. Tattered maps laid half buried in coins, their frayed edges illuminated by antique runes carved into the walls and pillars.

  The treasures ebbed towards the center of the chamber, leaving room for the centerpiece, a lifelike statue carved in the likeness of the goddess cradling a greatsword to her chest as if it were her child. Long hair made of marble flowed down her back, melding into her shoulders. Her eyes were fixated on the sword in a gut-wrenching expression of sorrow.

  The sword itself had been forged of a pitch black alloy that fed on the light around it, throwing shadows across the statue's features. The runes etched into the crossguard and blade shimmered in an iridescent blue oh so familiar to Kael, urging him forward like a siren's call.

  Kael swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as Veyla took a step forward. The hum in the air pressed against his skin, worming into his ribs and breath, demanding entry. It wasn't just magic- none that he knew of anyway- but something deeper, something older, and it was watching.

  Veyla took another step forward, slow and deliberate, the sound of her boots clicking against the stone floor pulling Kael’s focus away from the sword long enough to listen to her.

  “That's it,” she murmured.

  Hargan huffed, grabbing his axe off of his back. “Goddess looks like she doesn't wanna give it up,” he said, staring at the statue's expression. “Damn near gives me the creeps.”

  The runes on the sword pulsed again, and the conversation immediately faded into nothing for Kael as it called out to something buried deep in his bones.

  A song. No, not a song. Something that he had always assumed was part of his songs- his magic.

  This was a mage’s weapon, the original mage’s weapon.

  He took an involuntary step forward.

  “Easy there, birdie,” Veyla said without looking back, her usually friendly tone reduced to bare necessity. “You don't want to be the first fool to touch something cursed.”

  Kael hesitated, but not because of her words. He felt the sword resonate with his magic and with Veyla, consuming them both ever so slowly.

  “It's not cursed,” he whispered barely audible for the others, “It's waiting.”

  Veyla turned at that, her brow arching in intrigue. “Waiting for what?”

  Kael didn't answer. He didn't know. Veyla should know, feel that insistent pull of the sword toward the mages like it wanted nothing more than to consume them and feast on their souls. It was not subtle, a beacon of malice seeking for its next sustenance to devour like a rabid animal with no regards to the future.

  Why did she lie?

  The way the runes shimmered, the flawless construction of the chamber with no seams in the stone like it was made by the divine, this wasn't just some artefact left behind by a captain who didn't want to share- this was a sacred site, a prison.

  This sword wasn't just a weapon, but something much more. Kael had never shown much interest in worshipping the goddess beyond the bare necessities, but he knew that if she wanted this sword sealed away it was probably the best choice. This sword wanted something.

  And Veyla wanted it too.

  He could see it in the way her fingers twitched at her sides, how her gaze never left the sword now that she had gotten closer. She didn't look at the statue, not the treasure, not even the room's only exit. Just the blade.

  Hargan let out a low grunt, shifting the weight of his axe. “So, what's the plan? You grab it, or does the bard get to do the honours?”

  Veyla smirked, but her eyes were sharp, betraying her eagerness. “Let's not waste him. He's still useful.”

  “Appreciate that,” Kael muttered, his mind racing with ideas and fears.

  Veyla took another step forward, boots scuffing against the gold-strewn floor. The statue loomed over her now, marble fingers curled around the sword's hilt like a mother refusing to part with her child.

  “Veyla, stop!” Kael yelled as she reached up to take the blade. “This isn't worth it.”

  She stopped, her hand an inch away from the blade. “Worth what?” she asked without bothering to turn around, all traces of friendliness drained from her voice.

  Kael's gaze darted to Hargan, but he avoided meeting his eyeline. “Y- you know, don't you?” he challenged, but his voice betrayed him. He cleared his throat and continued, “That this… thing was trapped here by the goddess?”

  Veyla slowly turned around, a charming smile plastered on her face as she walked over to him at a brisk pace. “Whatever are you talking about? It's just a sword. You're talking about it like it is alive!” she reassured him.

  Kael took a step back, trying to put some distance between the two of them with no success. “It is! It wants something, bloodshed or something evil. The goddess sealed it!”

  Her magic flexed, a small wave of shadows carrying her right in front of him, negating every attempt to make distance like he had never even tried.

  “What are you talking about?” She put a hand on his head, tousling his hair as her laughter rang out, light and quick but slightly strained. “I already told you that this was all just the old pirate's treasure.”

  “No, you said that he had the map… you never said where this treasure came from,” he replied, trying to squirm away from her hand.

  She roughly tilted his head to the side, her smile dropping immediately. “Pity.”

  The spray of red hit his face before he even realised it, drawing a line across his cheek before he was shoved back.

  Kael hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of his lungs as his head cracked against a stone pillar. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as his vision swam, dark edges creeping in. His hands and feet scraped across the treasure-strewn ground, knocking over relics and piles of coins as he tried to push himself upright.

  Hargan let out a curse, tightening his grip on her blade that had halfway cut into the palm of his hand. “Enough, Veyla.”

  “What?” She tugged at her blade, but it didn't budge. “Don't tell me you want to throw your life away for him. Let go or die alongside him.”

  Hargan clenched his jaw, blood dripping from his cut palm as he held Veyla’s blade in place. His stance was firm, immovable. "I said enough."

  Kael blinked hard, shaking his head to clear the stars from his vision. He couldn't believe what he was seeing- barely processing the fact that Hargan was taking his side.

  Veyla pushed the sword forward, a line of blood flowing down her blade and dripping down the crossguard. “Oh, I see,” she laughed, “he reminds you of your daughter. Don't worry, I won't forget the promise I made you.”

  “You should walk away,” he intoned, his broad chest rising and falling with controlled breaths. “Now.”

  Kael struggled to sit up, his vision slowly clearing as he lurched up onto all fours. “Why??”

  His head was killing him, vomit pounding up his throat as he desperately tried to keep it down.

  Veyla cocked her head to the side, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Why what, birdie?” she asked in a sickeningly sweet tone, letting the weight of her sword drag it down lazily. “Why am I doing this? Why did I lie to you? Or why is Hargan throwing his life away for you?”

  Kael clenched his fists, his heart hammering in his chest as he finally managed to stand up. “Yes.”

  “Oh, that's easy,” Veyla replied, her smile genuine for the first time in a while, “You've outlived your usefulness and got in my way. Can't have you telling others about where this sword came from.”

  Grabbing his axe, Hargan lifted it high with a grim scowl, his eyes darkened in fury. With a low growl, he swung down so quickly Kael couldn't even see the axe moving.

  Veyla slipped her sword out of Hargan’s grasp, shadows rising up her legs and arms to allow her to glide across the floor effortlessly. They ebbed away like waves, melding into the mountains of treasure around her as she stopped in front of the statue. “But it doesn't matter. You're gonna die all the same.”

  “Veyla- don’t!” Kael managed, his voice raw with desperation as he staggered forward. He knew it was too late, she was too far from him and too nimble.

  Hargan grabbed Kael's arm, stopping him as he threw his axe at her with an underhand motion. He didn't aim to kill but for her center of mass, hoping to disrupt her plans. “Get her!“

  “Wh-what? I can't- I just tell tales,” Kael stuttered as Veyla dodged the thrown weapon, sending a wave of shadows at the duo.

  Hargan grabbed his shoulders, straightening him up as blood flowed down Kael's upper arm. “I don't know what you two did while I was fighting those ghosts, but you're a mage! Do something!”

  Veyla stood at the base of the statue now, her fingers brushing the black sword’s hilt. The runes on the blade pulsed faster, responding to her touch as if something inside it was waking up.

  Kael’s mind raced. He couldn’t overpower her. He couldn’t match her speed. He needed to stop her. His hands trembled as he grabbed his lute and strummed a discordant note, pouring everything he had into a desperate spell.

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  The air shivered. The hum in the room faltered.

  Veyla’s hand froze just shy of the sword’s grip, her body stiffening as the vibration surrounding them wavered for the first time. Her breath hitched- just a fraction of a second, but enough for Kael to see it.

  She turned around, a strained smile on her face. “Kael, please…you don't have to do this. We can get out of here together.”

  Hargan took the chance. With a roar, he charged, closing the distance in three powerful strides. His injured hand clenched into a fist as he swung at her, aiming to knock her away from the statue.

  Kael’s music stopped just as quickly as he had started as he noticed the shadow closest to him move. It wasn't Veyla, but something else reacted to his magic.

  Shadows flowed around Veyla’s legs, pulling her backward just in time. Hargan’s fist struck empty air where she had been a heartbeat before.

  “Clever,” Veyla purred, her gaze flicking to Kael. “You felt it, didn’t you? The magic of the blade.”

  Kael swallowed. His fingers tightened on his lute. “I felt enough.”

  “Good,” she said. “Then you understand.”

  Her hand finally closed around the sword’s hilt as she dodged another strike from Hargan.

  The statue's eyes crumbled inwards, quickly followed by the rest of the statue. But she was already gone, dodging Hargan’s next charge, the blade dragging along the ground. Shadows bled from her skin, dripping down the hilt and onto the blade. The runes glowed brighter before the shadows swallowed them, only for the light to burn through them a moment later.

  The air crackled with raw, unstable energy as Veyla staggered- a single step backward marked the moment her own magic faltered, surrendering to the cursed sword’s dark will. Shadows writhed along her limbs as the blade’s malevolent power took control. In the gloom, Hargan’s gruff command cut through the mounting chaos.

  “Kael! Use your magic- now!” he roared, gripping his axe tighter. Blood ran down the hilt.

  Kael readjusted his grip on his lute, but his fingers stopped just above the strings. He couldn't do it. If Lira was haunting him, she could immediately kill him. The shadow had already been so close.

  It would make sense for her to hold a grudge after he sacrificed her- for Veyla.

  So stupid! How could he not have seen it earlier?

  Hargan tried to hack at Veyla but she managed to jerk the sword high enough to block. He growled “The fuck are you waiting for?”

  “I can't! She'll kill me,” Kael replied, but his hand tightened around the neck of his lute. “Lira, she-”

  “Veyla will kill you if you don't,” Hargan yelled, dodging a wild strike from Veyla, her movements becoming more fluid with every step. “Do your magic!”

  Veyla started wailing on Hargan, her strikes increasing in frequency with every second as she adjusted to the sword's influence. “You really think she's going to help you after you sent the captain after her? You killed her, Kael.”

  “Shut up,” Kael muttered, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to drown out Veyla’s voice. “You did!”

  “I can't empower the dead like you can, can't sicc a vengeful captain on my only friend in search for riches,” Veyla continued, feeding into Kael's intrusive thoughts, “You are the one who made the call, birdie.”

  The nickname he once thought was teasingly affectionate now felt sour in his mind as the reality of his situation dawned on him. He had been such a fool.

  She never took him seriously- never had.

  He wasn't a beautiful songbird to her, not something to cherish or love, but a simple canary. She had put him in a cage of his making and used his song to check for dangers.

  He was a tool.

  They just had to pray that Lira would understand- maybe he could even make her understand.

  If not, he'd die.

  “See?” Veyla asked, dodging brutal strike after strike from Hargan but unable to find any openings. “You killed Lira, now you're going to get Hargan killed.”

  “No,” Kael said, plucking the first note of a new song.

  It was a song of hope, something he had played so often yet never truly understood. Always stuck in the Saltrows, he had dreamt of being on the open sea, to experience another life than his own. Yet now that he had tasted it, his old life seemed much better.

  So many things he had missed before now felt better, almost nostalgic. The good he had always missed, now highlighted in a play of music.

  Kael's fingers trembled over the strings, the weight of every decision pressing into his ribs like a vice. The song he played was one he had sung a thousand times before, but never with this much desperation. Never with this much hope.

  The first note hummed through the air, delicate yet charged with something raw, something aching. The magic in the room recoiled, as if it recognized the melody. Even the cursed blade hesitated- just a fraction of a second- but it was enough for Kael to hear it.

  Veyla heard it too.

  “Oh, Kael,” she sighed, her voice dripping with mock pity. "You really think she’ll come? That she’ll help you? Lira is dead, birdie. You killed her. The only thing she could ever want to do with you is to kill you.”

  The words slithered into his chest like a dagger between his ribs. The song faltered, his breath hitching as guilt curled around his heart.

  Veyla took a step forward, shadows curling around her feet like ink in water. “But if you want to beg- ” she gestured toward the air, toward the unseen, laughing softly. “Go ahead. Let’s see if she forgives you.”

  Kael clenched his jaw. His whole body trembled as he forced himself to keep playing, the strings biting into his fingertips. The melody wove through the chamber, wrapping around the stones, the gold, the lingering remnants of magic. It bled into the cracks of the past, into the things left unsaid.

  The lantern light flickered.

  Veyla’s smirk faltered.

  Then, from the farthest corner of the room, a shadow stirred.

  It wasn’t Veyla’s.

  Veyla immediately dashed towards Kael as the shadow peeled itself from the wall. A wave of shadows burst out from her, seeking to knock over Hargan and free her way toward Kael.

  While Hargan did lose his footing, he managed to grab onto Veyla’s leg, stopping her in her tracks.

  Lira dashed out of the shadows, picking up a random dagger and a shortsword as she ran to defend Hargan.

  Trying to get him off of her leg, Veyla arced her sword down sharply in an attempt to cut him down. “Let go!”

  Metal clanked against metal as Lira redirected the blow, Veyla’s sword cutting into the ground an inch from Hargan's head.

  Kael kept going, playing louder and more confidently now. She wasn't killing him! He changed the melody on the fly, deviating from the known melody to better fit his story.

  The contours of Lira's form sharpened as her movements sped up. “Why, Veyla?” she asked.

  “She betrayed all of us!” Kael yelled.

  Lira tried to stab Veyla with the dagger but she leaned out of the way. “Oh, we're gonna have a talk,” Lira replied, “I haven't forgotten about you!”

  Veyla kicked Hargan in the face, the heel of her sturdy boot slamming down onto his forehead. “He's the one who killed you. Take it up with him. A useless bard who couldn't think of a better escape.”

  Hargan reeled from the brutal kick, his vision blurring as blood mixed with the dust of ancient stone. Yet even as his head pounded in protest, his resolve burned fiercer than ever. With a snarl, he grabbed a nearby chandelier and threw it up in another desperate swing.

  Lira, her eyes smoldering with a mix of grief and fierce retribution, advanced with a predator’s grace. Her dagger flashed as she darted toward Veyla, each step measured and driven by the memory of betrayal. “Why, Veyla?” she demanded, her voice echoing in the cavernous ruin. “We were a crew! You sacrificed me!”

  Getting forced on the defense for the first time in the fight, Veyla dodged and deflected strike after strike as Hargan stood back up. “Stop talking. Focus,” he growled.

  “Aww, can't keep up?” Veyla teased, ducking and weaving between strikes as they pushed her back.

  It wasn't much of a plan, but Hargan and Lira worked together to push Veyla back and around the pillars. They slowly edged towards Kael with Veyla’s back turned to him.

  Veyla laughed, but kept getting pushed back. “You scared I'll be able to change your mind still?”

  Noticing their approach, Kael felt awkward. He was no fighter after all, and had no weapon. Veyla seemed to ignore him, or didn't notice him.

  They got close, too close.

  He didn't know what to do but Hargan and Lira seemed to have a plan.

  Stopping his playing for a moment but continuing to sing along, he brandished his lute like an axe and slammed it down onto Veyla’s head from behind just as she turned around to strike at him.

  Hargan grabbed Veyla’s blade just like he had before, mutilating his hand even more as Lira stabbed her dagger between Veyla’s ribs.

  “No!” Veyla shrieked, immediately letting go of her sword and punching Kael directly in the face. “Stop it. You can't stop me!”

  Blood pooled in Kael's mouth, stopping his singing as he reeled backward. His lute flew away, clattering over the endless treasures.

  Hargan wrapped his unhurt hand around Veyla’s throat, tossing the sword aside as Lira faded. “Get her.”

  Kael looked around for a weapon as Veyla bucked in Hargan's grip, shadows ebbing and flowing out of her body to try and free her.

  His gaze fell onto the sword on the ground, a second of hesitation crossed his face before he noticed the sword on Veyla’s waist. He stepped forward and grabbed it, earning himself a kick to the leg before he managed to free it.

  “Idiots!” Veyla shrieked, all semblance of composure gone as she kicked wildly to try anything to break free. “Do you know what you're destroying? This was supposed to be a new age!”

  “Shut up!” Kael barked out, levelling his sword at her throat, ready to thrust through her. A moment later, he readjusted his grip for a slice. “Have you said anything that wasn't a lie since we met?”

  “I truly lo-” Veyla tried to speak up, to talk her way out of this and manipulate him only for Hargan to clamp his hand over her mouth.

  “Kill her, slice at her stomach,” Hargan instructed, his grip on Veyla slipping.

  Kael’s fingers trembled around the hilt of the sword, opening and closing repeatedly as he tried to work up the courage.

  He had killed Lira, true, but that was under coercion and not him directly. He literally hadn't gotten his hands dirty.

  This time, he'd have to cut her open.

  Then he looked into her eyes. He searched for any signs of regret but they only reflected hatred.

  Closing his eyes, Kael took a deep breath and tried to assume the right stance. He'd never fought with a sword, but had seen enough people that he knew what it was supposed to look like.

  That only meant that he knew how wrong his stance was, but it didn't matter.

  He sliced.

  The sword glided through her stomach like a knife through butter but caught on the grip of her revolver.

  Blood gushed forth, quickly covering her waist and legs as Kael raised the sword for another slice. Shadows laced her blood, flowing from her in a steady stream.

  Hargan let go of Veyla, staggering back as Veyla crumpled to the ground.

  “N-No…” she gurgled, clamping a hand over her belly to try and hold herself together. “How could you?!”

  Raising the sword to finish her off, Kael hesitated. Even now as she laid battered and beaten at his feet, her hold on him made him second guess himself. Maybe he had made a mistake.

  Hargan didn't have such qualms.

  He kicked Veyla to the ground before swiftly stomping down on her back. “Enough.”

  There was no last scream, no triumphant snarl, only the wet crunch of bones.

  Kael’s world slowed to a suffocating hush as the final crunch of bones echoed in the chamber. Veyla’s broken form lay amid scattered treasure and dark, spreading blood- a grim monument to betrayal. The sword glowed brightly for a moment as the light left Veyla’s eyes.

  Hargan, still breathing hard from battle, surveyed the ruin with eyes that mixed grim satisfaction and reluctant sorrow.

  “We need to collapse this place. Grab as much gold as you can and let's go back to the ship,” Hargan said, slumping down to his knees with a little shuffle, resting his weight on Veyla’s corpse. He paused for a moment, staring at his mutilated hand. “Do you know how to amputate a hand?”

  “No. No, I don't,” Kael said, swallowing down a wave of bile as he made the mistake of glancing down at his destroyed hand. “Do you?”

  Hargan nodded and ripped a few stripes off of Veyla’s tunic, holding them out towards Kael. “Here, take this. I'll… guide you through it, I guess.”

  Hargan’s voice came out in ragged whispers as he propped his shattered hand against the cold stone. “Take that fabric, Kael. We need to stem the blood before we lose more than just hope.”

  Kael’s fingers, still trembling from adrenaline and regret, obeyed as he tore a strip from Veyla’s ruined tunic. “Tie it tight,” Hargan instructed, his eyes dark and unyielding despite the pain. “Wrap it around the base of my injured hand- firm, but not so tight you’ll crush the veins. This will slow the bleeding until we can make a clean cut.”

  The dim lantern light revealed every grim detail- crimson rivulets seeping into ancient stone, the edge of Kael’s sword glinting with a promise of finality. “Focus,” Hargan growled, though his voice held an almost paternal quality amid the chaos. “I’ve seen too many men wasted by hesitation. When I say ‘cut,’ you must strike true, straight along the natural line of the bone.”

  A heavy silence fell between them as Kael knelt beside his friend, the gravity of the task pressing in as palpable as the lingering scent of blood and shattered magic. “But... how will I know where to slice?” Kael asked, his voice nearly swallowed by the oppressive gloom of the ruin.

  “Trust what you’ve learned, and trust your own hand,” Hargan replied, forcing a small, rueful smile even as pain twisted his features. “Look at the jagged wound- see the clean line that nature itself has set? Follow that. I want a swift, decisive cut. Do not falter.”

  Kael’s gaze drifted to Hargan’s face, where pain battled resolve, and he swallowed hard. “I’m not a healer, Hargan. I’m no surgeon.”

  “Then let this be your first lesson in survival,” Hargan said softly, his tone laced with bitter irony. “When betrayal and bloodshed have left you with no other choice, you learn to make hard decisions- even if that means severing a part of yourself to keep the rest whole.”

  As Kael steadied the blade with a shaking hand, Hargan closed his eyes for a brief moment- a silent farewell to a limb that had seen too many battles. “On my count,” Hargan murmured. “Three… two… one…”

  In the stillness that followed, Kael swung the sword in one fluid, determined arc. The sound was sickening- a split between flesh and bone, a final note of agony in the song of their doomed camaraderie. Crimson spray fanned out beneath the blade, the world narrowing to the relentless echo of the cut.

  Hargan exhaled a ragged breath as the seared pain blossomed, then faded into a cold numbness. “You did well,” he managed, voice strained yet laced with a strange relief. He handed Kael his dagger, continuing to instruct him swiftly to turn his forearm into a tapered stump instead of him plain missing a hand.

  Kael bandaged it with shivering hands, coated in blood as he put pressure on the bandages. “Where did you learn this?”

  Hargan kept gritting his teeth, waiting for Kael to finish before letting out a strained sigh. “I was in the marines with Veyla,” he growled, lifting the stump experimentally, “Medic of our squad, patched up more men than I killed.”

  Kael tried not to look baffled, but clearly failed as Hargan rolled his eyes. He stood up on wobbly legs, offering a hand to Hargan. “Let's blow this thing up. Rubble serves us better than a world ender- or… whatever that is. Is there anyone we can trust to get the loot?”

  “Not really,” Hargan thought for a moment before accepting Kael's arm, standing up himself before immediately sitting back down. “Let's wait a bit. Still got some food in your bag? Need a fucking bite…”