Kale stirred, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains of the lavish room. He stretched, his muscles protesting the movement, still sore from the training and the battle with the cultists. The bed was far more comfortable than anything he'd ever slept in, and for a moment, he allowed himself to sink back into the plush pillows.

"Get up, Kale," Liliana's voice cut through the morning calm, her head floating near the foot of the bed. "We have matters to attend to."

Kale groaned but sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I haven't slept that well in... forever."

"Enjoy it while you can," Liliana said. "Who knows where we will be tonight."

Kale smiled. "Not exactly what I expected from Varrick's hospitality."

"Nothing is ever what it seems with him," Liliana said.

After getting dressed, they made their way downstairs, where Varrick sat lounging in a large armchair, casually sipping from a silver goblet. His eyes flickered with amusement as he noticed them approaching.

"Well, well," Varrick said with a grin. "It seems my guests are finally awake."

Kale glanced at Liliana before stepping forward. "Thanks for the bed. We actually wanted to ask you something."

"Oh? And what might that be?" Varrick leaned forward.

Kale pulled out the scrolls they had found on the cultists and handed them to Varrick. "We found these on the bodies of the cultists. Any chance you can read them?"

Varrick took the scrolls, unrolling them slowly. His brow furrowed as his eyes scanned the text, and after a moment, he shook his head. "No, these symbols don't mean anything to me. But Zorian—your friendly neighborhood threadwraith—might have better luck with this sort of thing."

"Zorian," Kale said. "Of course."

Varrick handed the scrolls back to Kale, his eyes lingering on the dagger hanging from Kale's belt. His expression flickered, recognition lighting in his eyes, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he offered a charming smile. "By the way, try not to die. You've got a fight this evening, remember?"

"No promises." Kale said.

***

They left Varrick's grand estate and made their way through the busy streets of Harrow's Reach. The city seemed more alive than usual, with merchants shouting their wares and people bustling from one place to another. It felt oddly comforting, the normalcy of it all, despite the looming threat of the Xeroth's followers.

They arrived at Zorian's twisted, eerie home once again, and Kale hesitated for a moment before knocking on the door. Just like before it swung open on its own as if the house itself had been expecting them. Zorian stood inside, his translucent form shifting like threads of light and shadow.

"Well, this is a surprise," Zorian said. "What brings you back so soon?"

Liliana floated forward. "We need you to read something. It's important."

Kale handed him the scrolls, and Zorian took them with careful fingers, his eyes narrowing as he began to read the strange symbols etched into the parchment.

The room fell silent, save for the soft rustle of the scrolls as Zorian unraveled them further. His expression shifted from curiosity to concern, his fingers tightening slightly as he pieced together the meaning.

After a long moment, he looked up at them. "The good news is... they aren't after you."

Kale's shoulders relaxed slightly, but the tension didn't leave his body entirely. "And the bad news?"

Zorian sighed, setting the scrolls down on a nearby table. "They're after your dagger."

Kale blinked, looking down at the dagger hanging from his belt. "The dagger? What does it have to do with anything?"

"This isn't just any dagger," Zorian said. "It's Aeloria's dagger, or it once belonged to her. It seems the cultists want it back."

Kale exchanged a glance with Liliana, who looked equally confused and frustrated.

"So, they're after the dagger now?" Kale asked, still trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Zorian nodded. "Apparently they were after the dagger from the start, you just happen to have it. That's why they're hunting you."

Kale's thoughts were spinning. "But why this dagger? Why is it so important?"

Zorian leaned back. "Well, if it really is Aeloria's dagger, as they seem to believe, then maybe... it wasn't Xeroth they were trying to summon at all."

Kale's heart skipped a beat. "Who could they have been trying to summon?"

Zorian sighed, his fingers weaving through the air as he considered the question. "If they were using Aeloria's blade, they were likely trying to summon Aeloria herself. But rituals are tricky things, Kale. Very specific. One wrong move and everything falls apart. In this case... Liliana not dying at the precise moment might have thrown everything off. They didn't get a god; they got you."

Liliana laughed. "And then you even went ahead and stole their dagger. Oh, boy, they must be furious with you."

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A pit of dread formed in Kale's stomach. "I'm... I'm in big trouble, aren't I?"

"You both are. Very big trouble," Zorian said.

Kale swallowed hard, the weight of the revelation settling over him like a heavy cloak. "But... why Aeloria? Why not Xeroth?"

Zorian leaned forward, his voice quiet but steady. "Over two hundred years ago, Xeroth and his brothers orchestrated a great purge of the bladeweavers. They wanted to destroy Aeloria, she was too much of a threat, always standing in their way. But Aeloria's champions, the bladeweavers, were her sword and shield. Without them, she would be vulnerable. So they targeted her bladeweavers, wiping out nearly all of them."

"The purge wasn't just a war, it was a reckoning. Xeroth and his brothers didn't simply kill the bladeweavers, they unmade them. It was like a wave of darkness swallowing a flame, not just extinguishing its light, but leaving the embers to smolder and blacken the earth beneath."

He paused, his gaze distant as though he could see the terrible events unfold before him. "The Bladeweavers weren't just hunted. They were erased. Not in open combat, not in honorable battles. No, Xeroth turned the world against them. His followers spread decay in their wake, poisoning the land, corrupting the rivers, and then whispering into the ears of kings and warlords that it was the bladeweavers' doing."

"Everywhere they went, rot followed. Villages abandoned them, cities barred their gates, entire kingdoms declared them cursed. The land beneath their feet withered, the sky above them darkened with omens, and the people they once swore to protect became the ones who hunted them down."

"The few who survived the initial onslaught were forced to scatter, hide in the farthest corners of the world. Their temples were razed, their symbols destroyed. And over time, their legends were twisted. What was once a proud order became a whispered myth. Aeloria's champions—the very warriors who had once been the vanguard against Xeroth—were reduced to ghosts, forgotten by all but those who sought to finish them off."

He leaned in, his eyes locking onto Kale's. "It wasn't just about killing the bladeweavers. Xeroth needed them gone so he could get to Aeloria. Without her champions, she couldn't stand against him, not in the same way. The bladeweavers were more than warriors; they were her connection to this world, her physical manifestation of power. And with them gone, Xeroth believed her vulnerable."

Kale's chest tightened. The revelation of his heritage—the truth of what he was—settled over him. He wasn't just a pawn in some random summoning ritual. He was a bladeweaver, a survivor of a nearly extinct lineage, a remnant of warriors who were once the champions of a goddess. Aeloria's godly power coursed through him, but it also painted a target on his back. His mind raced with a mixture of fear and purpose. Was this really what he was meant to be? A warrior?

Zorian continued, his tone grim. "If they're still trying to destroy Aeloria, it means they're planning something bigger, something that could change the balance of power. And if you're holding her blade, it means you're a threat to whatever that plan is."

Kale felt a cold shiver of realization crawl up his spine. He wasn't just caught in a power struggle between gods. He was right in the middle of it.

"I... I never asked for this," Kale muttered.

Zorian leaned back, his dark, void-like eyes focused on Kale with a knowing gaze. "No one ever asks for the role they're given, Kale. But sometimes the gods have their reasons. Whether you like it or not, you've been chosen, and that dagger... it's not just a weapon. It's a symbol, a reminder of what once was, and what might be again."

Liliana, who had remained quiet, finally spoke. "We don't have time for you to wallow, Kale. They're after that blade, and by extension, they're after you. We need to be smart about this. You need to be ready for what's coming."

Kale swallowed hard. "What if I'm not?"

Zorian gave him a stern look. "Then you die."

The room fell silent, Zorian's words lingering between them. Kale looked at Aeloria's dagger. He didn't feel ready. He didn't feel like the champion of a goddess. But if he didn't step up, what choice did he have? He certainly did not want to die either.

Then, a thought struck him.

His stomach twisted. Oh no.

His hand went to his belt, fingers brushing against cold steel. The dagger. The one they had taken off the cultist last night. How had he forgotten?

He fumbled it free, holding it up as if it might bite. "This," he said, forcing the words out. "We—uh, took this off one of the cultists we killed last night."

Liliana, understanding the implication, said. "You took it, don't drag me into this."

Kale winced, his sense of dread growing by the second. "Please tell me this isn't another dagger that belongs to some god. Please tell me they're not going to come for this one too."

Zorian looked at the blade in Kale's hand. He took the dagger carefully, inspecting it, turning it over in his hands as if feeling for something hidden beneath the surface. His silence only made Kale's stomach twist tighter.

After what felt like an eternity, Zorian sighed, his long fingers tracing the intricate carvings on the hilt. "It doesn't appear to belong to a god," he said slowly, though his tone held no real certainty. "But there's no way to be sure. The design is... peculiar. If one of their assassins was carrying it, it's probably just a weapon. But even if it were something more, it wouldn't make much of a difference."

"Why not?" Kale asked.

"Because they're already coming for you. Whether you have one of their daggers or ten, it won't change anything. They want Aeloria's blade. That's all that matters."

Kale felt a sinking sensation in his chest. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Good. You shouldn't feel better. You should feel focused. We need to stay ahead of them, not worry about every little trinket you pick up from corpses." Liliana said.

Kale stared at the dagger Zorian handed back to him. It wasn't glowing, it didn't have some godly aura... but it still felt wrong. He slid it back into his belt. He exhaled, the sense of dread refusing to leave him. Great, he thought. Just one more thing to worry about. He glanced at Zorian, hoping for something, anything, that could tip the odds in their favor.

"What about finding other bladeweavers?" he asked. "Do you think you could help with that? I mean... someone who could teach me. I don't know what I'm doing with this power. I need someone who understands."

Zorian leaned back in his chair. "The bladeweavers who remain, if there are any, are not exactly advertising their location. Being a bladeweaver is a death sentence in most parts of the world, especially with Xeroth's followers still hunting them down. They've spent centuries rooting out any trace of your kind."

Kale nodded slowly. He understood the danger, but the thought of being the only bladeweaver was overwhelming. "It would really help to have someone with more experience. Someone who's been through this, who can guide me..."

Zorian's gaze softened just a bit, and he gave a slow nod. "You're not wrong. It would be invaluable. But I can't promise anything. Bladeweavers are hunted, finding one would be like trying to find a ghost. I'll put out some feelers, discreetly... but don't expect too much from it. If they're still out there, they're well hidden for a reason."

Kale's shoulders slumped slightly, but he managed a nod. "Thanks. I appreciate it. Even if it's a long shot."

Liliana floated beside him, but she didn't offer any snide remarks. She knew the stakes too.

Zorian rose from his seat, his web-like form shimmering. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to," he said, his tone polite but firm. "I'll let you know if I hear anything."

As they turned to leave, Kale noticed the sky through the window. The sun was dipping low, its golden light painting the rooftops of Harrow's Reach in warm hues.

Liliana looked toward the horizon. "Sun's going down. It's time."

Kale felt a knot tighten in his stomach. "The arena."

Zorian nodded slightly, as if he too understood what was coming. "Try not to die tonight, bladeweaver. You have much left to do."

With that, Kale and Liliana left Zorian's home and headed toward the arena, the echoes of what they had just learned still ringing in Kale's mind. Tonight, he'd need to prove himself again.

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