The ruins weren't silent anymore.
Something had shifted.
It was subtle at first—a low vibration in the stones, like the air was holding its breath. The carved sigils on the broken archways hummed with a resonance that hadn't been there the day before. Not loud, not obvious. But undeniable.
Honedge was awake.
I stood at the base of the sealed wall again, boots scraping moss, fingers twitching slightly near my belt. Tyrunt was out, standing behind me with an unusual stillness, as if he too could sense what I couldn't explain. Grotle and Luxio were in their Poké Balls. I didn't want this turning into chaos.
The sword floated near the center of the chamber now. Not resting. Not waiting. Suspended.
Watching.
I stepped forward slowly.
"I don't know what you are," I said. My voice echoed more than it should've in a room this size. "But you've been following me. Watching. Waiting for something."
No answer. Of course.
I kept walking.
"I'm not afraid of ghosts," I continued. "But I know better than to pretend I understand them."
The blade drifted toward me.
Tyrunt growled low, but didn't move. I raised a hand, calming him.
The air thickened, like syrup. My breath shortened.
Then—
Impact.
Not physical. Not entirely.
My vision whited out.
I stumbled back but didn't fall. Something had entered me. Crawled through my chest, my spine, my skull. It wasn't pain—not exactly. It was presence. Weight. A will not my own, testing the edges of mine.
Possession.
I dropped to one knee, panting.
Tyrunt roared behind me, but didn't attack. Smart. Too smart.
I closed my eyes.
Inside, there was pressure. A blade digging through memory. Thoughts not mine scraped across the edge of consciousness. Honedge was searching. Probing. Trying to take control.
And something pushed back.
Not me.
Or… not just me.
A fracture. A mirror. Another voice—familiar and not. Deep, buried.
The second soul.
I'd always known something was off. Too much instinct in combat. Too much memory in my dreams that didn't belong. Too many times I'd felt like I was living beside myself.
The possession faltered.
Honedge recognized it.
Not confusion. Recognition.
It withdrew suddenly, like a spark recoiling from fire.
I gasped and dropped forward, hands on cold stone. My skin tingled. My heartbeat thundered.
Honedge hovered above me. Still. Watching. Then, slowly, it bowed.
Not subservient.
Acknowledging.
It had tested me.
And found something it understood.
I stood again. My limbs shook, but not from fear. From… pressure equalized.
Tyrunt stepped forward cautiously. Honedge turned to him and did not react. No aggression. No dominance. Just presence.
I reached into my jacket and pulled out a Poké Ball. Held it up. No tricks. No throws.
"You've already seen what I am," I said quietly. "You're welcome to leave. Or you can stay. Fight beside me. Not as a weapon. But as something more."
Honedge floated forward.
And tapped the ball.
Click.
Silence returned.
Not emptiness. Resolution.
I stared down at the capsule in my palm. Still warm.
"Bladebound," I murmured.
Tyrunt stepped beside me and nudged my shoulder, as if to say, that better not replace me.
I smirked. "Don't worry. He's not family yet. He's probation."
Tyrunt snorted.
We left the chamber. No dramatic collapse. No glowing runes. Just air that no longer trembled, and a ghost that now followed by choice.
Outside, the sun was setting.
We had a long road ahead.
And one more soul to carry it.