The forest no longer breathed.
Rain hissed down the iron slope of the valley, each drop echoing faintly off his armor. The man stood motionless beneath a dying tree, his blade resting upright before him, both hands on the hilt. Steam rose from the runes etched into the sword's surface — ancient markings pulsing faintly with violet and blue, like a heart that refused to die.
They had given him many names once:Executioner, Oathblade, The Silent Storm.But among the Syndicate, he was known simply as the Blade of Silence — the weapon they unleashed when all others failed.
He closed his eyes, letting the storm wash over him.Each gust carried voices — echoes of memory, whispers from another life.
"You swore an oath to the Stormblood heir."
A woman's voice — soft, resolute. It haunted him even now.He tried to push it away, but memory bled through anyway: a flash of sunlight on a battlefield, a boy crying amidst smoke, a woman standing before him with her arms spread wide.
"Lyria…" he murmured.
Lightning split the sky, revealing the faint line of the old ruins far below — where his prey had taken shelter.
He started walking.
Every step was measured, deliberate. Mud clung to his boots, but he moved with the silent precision of a wraith. Around him, the world dimmed, the forest bending away from his presence. Birds ceased their cries; even the rain seemed to fall quieter.
The blade on his back began to hum — low and resonant — sensing what he sought.
He reached a ridge overlooking the watchtower. Below, two faint lights flickered within: a small campfire, and the shapes of two figures moving in its glow.
The girl.And the boy.
He studied them for a long time. The girl was as his reports had described — silver-haired, eyes like tempered glass, magic drawn from her bloodline's ancient ties.But the boy… that mark. Even from here, the faint glow beneath his collar was unmistakable.
The Sigil of Stormblood.
He exhaled slowly, resting one hand on the runed hilt. "So it's true."
A voice broke through the rain — a whisper not of this world.
"He is your quarry. Your silence will bring balance again."
The whisper crawled through his mind like smoke. The same presence that had bound him to the Syndicate years ago — the one that twisted his loyalty, that turned his oath into a chain.
"Balance?" he said quietly. "You mean obedience."
No answer. Just the faint pulse of energy from the sword, feeding on his bitterness.
He stepped back into the shadows, cloak merging with the mist.
He would not strike yet. Not until he knew.
Hours passed.He moved silently through the ruins, studying the ground where the two had passed. Tracks, burned roots, shattered stone from magic — the girl's handiwork.But near the outer wall, he found something else.
A half-buried charm. Small, copper, shaped like a feather. He picked it up, brushing off the mud. The faint emblem engraved on its side froze him.
The mark of the old Stormblood Guard.
He remembered forging those charms himself — decades ago, before the betrayal, before the Syndicate turned his blade against the very house he once served.
He closed his fist around it, the metal biting into his palm.
"Lyria's son…" he whispered. "You survived."
For the first time in years, something cracked in his expression — not anger, not hate, but grief. He sank briefly to one knee, head bowed against the rain.
"I warned them not to trust the High Council," he muttered. "But she believed in peace. And it killed them."
His sword pulsed faintly, feeding off the tremor in his voice.He looked at it, eyes narrowing. "You're the only witness left, aren't you?"
The blade vibrated once, its runes shifting — rearranging to form a single sigil: the Raven's Eye.
He slammed the weapon into the ground, cracking the earth. "No. I won't be your puppet forever."
For a moment, silence. Then a voice whispered again, colder this time.
"Defy us, and the silence will claim you."
He grinned darkly beneath his helm. "It already has."
He pulled the sword free and turned toward the tower. "But before I break your curse, I'll finish what you started — on my terms."
The Watchtower — Just Before Dawn
He arrived as the first light crept over the horizon. Mist rolled across the valley floor, veiling his form as he approached the ruin's edge.Inside, faint movement — the girl shifting in her sleep near the dying fire, the boy standing watch by the window.
Kael's eyes were fixed on the distance, restless, wary. The young assassin hadn't slept all night. His instincts were sharp — too sharp for his age. A reflection of Ardyn's training… or blood memory?
The Blade of Silence lingered in the shadow of a fallen pillar, watching him.
For a heartbeat, the world slowed.He saw the faint trace of Lyria's face in the boy's eyes — the same spark of defiance, the same stubborn calm before the storm.It hit him like a blow.
He could end it now. One strike. One heartbeat.But his hand didn't move.
"Why?" he whispered to himself. "Why can't I draw?"
The sword in his hand pulsed again, as if mocking him.
"Because you remember," the voice hissed.
He clenched his teeth. "I remember truth."
A sudden flare of energy from the tower snapped him back. Elara stirred, her magic resonating unconsciously — a faint protective barrier humming around her.The boy turned toward her, his expression softening briefly.
The Blade felt something inside him twist.He'd once looked the same way — at Lyria — before everything burned.
"Stormblood heirs," he muttered. "Born to defy fate, even in love."
The thought almost drew a smirk from him — almost.
Then he sensed movement behind him.A shadow detached from the trees — another Raven operative, blade drawn.
"My lord," the operative whispered. "We tracked them to this—"
The man never finished.
A blur of steel, a flash of violet light — and silence.The Blade of Silence lowered his sword, the operative's body falling wordlessly into the mud.
"No interruptions," he said softly.
He stepped forward once more, staring up at the crumbling tower. The decision burned in his mind like lightning — the line between duty and memory finally cracking.
"If he truly bears her mark," he whispered, "then he deserves to know what the Syndicate took from him."
His sword hummed violently in protest, runes shifting in angry rhythm.He ignored it.
"I'll play their game for now," he said, turning away. "Let the Syndicate think I hunt him. But when the moment comes…"
He looked back toward the tower, his eyes glinting faintly beneath the helm.
"…I'll make sure the storm returns."
He vanished into the mist, leaving only a faint echo of thunder in his wake.
Elsewhere — The Raven Division Stronghold
Deep within the fortress halls, the masked commanders waited. The central chamber glowed crimson as the communication runes activated.
"My lord," one of them said to the flickering projection of a robed figure. "The Blade of Silence has engaged pursuit."
"Good," came the voice — layered, inhuman, dripping with power. "But his silence wavers. I can feel it."
Another commander hesitated. "You think he remembers?"
A long pause. Then:"If he remembers, he dies."
The voice faded, leaving the hall colder than before.
Back on the Ridge
The Blade of Silence stood once more at the edge of the valley, the watchtower a faint silhouette below.
He spoke softly, to no one in particular.
"You were right, Lyria. The Syndicate never destroyed your line — they feared it."
He raised his sword, its runes flickering between violet and pale blue. "And now, your son carries your storm. I'll guide it… even if the world brands me their executioner."
Lightning flared behind him, casting his shadow across the valley.
He sheathed the blade and began walking north — toward the old ruins, where Kael and Elara's true mission awaited.
The storm followed him.