The intelligence said the warehouse would be lightly guarded.
The intelligence was wrong.
Kaelen realized this the moment he dropped through the skylight and found himself facing not the expected three cultists, but fifteen—all armed, all ready, all positioned in a defensive formation that suggested they'd been expecting company.
"Trap," he muttered into his communication crystal.
"Confirmed," Lia's voice came back, tinny through the magical device. "I count twenty more approaching from the east. Ronan's position is about to be swarmed. This was a setup."
*Of course it was,* Soulrender said with dark amusement. *Marcus is not a fool. He knows our patterns by now.*
The lead cultist—wearing the silver-filigree bone mask that marked him as a mid-level leader—smiled. "Kaelen Voss. How kind of you to walk into our trap. Lord Marcus will be pleased."
"He won't be pleased when I walk back out," Kaelen replied, assessing his options. Fifteen opponents between him and the nearest exit, shadow magic already crackling in their hands. Bad odds, but he'd faced worse.
The problem was that this wasn't just about him. If Lia and Ronan were also walking into ambushes, they could all be captured or killed within minutes.
"Lia," he said into the crystal, "abort. Fall back to secondary position."
"Not without you."
"That wasn't a suggestion."
"Then it's a bad order," Lia shot back. "I'm already engaging. Ronan's pinned down. If we retreat now, they'll pick us off separately. We need to—"
The crystal went dead. Someone had deployed a magical dampening field.
"No calling for help," the lead cultist said. "No backup. Just you, us, and the choice you're about to make." He gestured, and two cultists dragged forward a struggling figure—a young woman, bound and gagged, terror in her eyes. "Surrender, and she lives. Fight, and she dies first."
Kaelen's hand tightened on Soulrender's hilt. The hostage was an obvious pressure tactic, designed to force him into an impossible choice. Fight and risk an innocent death. Surrender and lose the blade, letting Marcus win.
*There is a third option,* Soulrender suggested. *Use us. Fully. Unleash our true power and end this fight in seconds.*
"And accumulate how many Scars?"
*Does it matter? If you die here, the Scars won't matter. If your companions die, will you forgive yourself for holding back?*
The sword had a point. A terrible, seductive point.
"Ten seconds, Voss," the lead cultist said. "Then she dies, and we move on to making your friends' deaths very slow and very painful."
Kaelen looked at the hostage. At the cultists. At Soulrender in his hand. Every option was bad. Every path led to pain.
But some paths hurt fewer people than others.
"Alright," he said, lowering his blade. "I surrender. Just let her go."
"Kaelen, don't—" The hostage's voice, suddenly ungagged. Not the voice of a terrified victim, but something else. Something familiar.
The woman's face rippled, illusory magic falling away. Not a civilian hostage, but a Shadow Hunter in disguise. One of Selene's people, her hands not bound but positioned to look that way, small weapons concealed in her sleeves.
"It's a counter-trap," Kaelen realized.
"Now!" the disguised Hunter shouted.
Three things happened simultaneously:
The "hostage" exploded into action, blades appearing in her hands as she attacked the nearest cultists.
The warehouse's west wall detonated inward, and Selene led five Shadow Hunters through the breach.
Lia's purification magic erupted from above, raining down like arrows of light, disrupting the cultists' shadow spells.
And Kaelen stopped holding back.
Soulrender sang as he launched himself forward, but this time he channeled the sword's absorbed corruption—not its core power. The energy from dozens of cleansed sites poured through the blade, refined and controlled. Shadow tendrils erupted from the steel, each one precisely directed at a cultist's weapon hand, disarming them without killing.
The lead cultist tried to mount a defense, his shadow magic impressive but ultimately no match for Kaelen's momentum. Soulrender's edge caught his ceremonial dagger, shattered it, and the pommel followed up with a strike to the temple. The cultist dropped like a stone.
Around the warehouse, the Shadow Hunters were methodical and brutal. These weren't random mercenaries or converted civilians—these were professionals, trained specifically to counter shadow magic users. Every attack was precise, every movement efficient. Within two minutes, half the cultists were down.
The rest tried to flee.
Ronan's voice crackled through a new communication crystal—the backup Selene had provided. "East exit sealed. West exit sealed. North exit... north exit breached. Five cultists escaped. Pursuit initiated."
"Let them go," Selene's voice commanded. "We have what we came for."
"Which is?" Kaelen asked, binding an unconscious cultist's hands.
"Intelligence." Selene approached the lead cultist, who was groggily returning to consciousness. "This one has been coordinating Cult operations across three districts. He knows site locations, ritual schedules, resource caches. By the time I'm done interrogating him, we'll have enough targets to keep you busy for months."
Lia descended from her elevated position, slightly singed but unharmed. "You knew it was a trap. The intelligence was fake."
"Not fake," Selene corrected. "Leaked. We let the Cult discover our 'pattern' of site selection, then fed them information suggesting we'd hit this location tonight. They set a trap. We set a better one."
"You used us as bait," Kaelen said flatly.
"I used your known capabilities as bait," Selene replied without apology. "You can absorb shadow magic and fight multiple opponents. Lia can disrupt enemy spells from range. Together, you were the perfect lure to draw out mid-level Cult leadership. And it worked."
"You could have warned us."
"If I'd warned you, your behavior might have tipped them off. Natural reactions sell deception." Selene's silver eyes met his. "You wanted to know how to fight smarter, Kaelen? This is how. We can't match Marcus's resources, so we make him waste them. Can't predict his moves, so we make him react to ours. Can't out-muscle his forces, so we out-think them."
Kaelen wanted to be angry, but he couldn't argue with the results. They'd captured a dozen cultists, including a leader with valuable intelligence. No friendly casualties, minimal collateral damage. By any objective measure, it was a successful operation.
But being used as bait without his knowledge left a sour taste.
"Next time," he said carefully, "I'd appreciate a heads-up. Partner, remember? Not asset."
Selene considered, then nodded. "Fair. I'll brief you on future operations where deception is required. You've earned that much trust."
It was the closest thing to an apology he was likely to get from Selene.
The Shadow Hunters efficiently secured the warehouse, collecting evidence and prisoners. The "hostage"—a Hunter named Vera—approached Kaelen with a slight smile.
"Sorry for the deception. Selene said you'd need an emotional stake to sell the reaction."
"You're an excellent actor," Kaelen said. "That fear looked completely real."
"It was real. Those cultists could have decided to kill me at any moment. The whole plan depended on them being more interested in capturing you than eliminating me." Vera shrugged. "Shadow Hunter work isn't for the risk-averse."
As they wrapped up the operation, Kaelen found a moment alone with Lia on the warehouse roof. The Eredor cityscape stretched out before them, lights twinkling in the darkness.
"She used us," Lia said quietly.
"She used the situation," Kaelen replied. "There's a difference."
"Is there?"
"I think so. Selene's ruthless, but she's not Marcus. She's not sacrificing innocents or corrupting people. She's just... playing the game at a level we're not used to."
Lia leaned against the rooftop's edge. "I don't like being a game piece."
"Neither do I. But I can't deny it worked." Kaelen joined her at the edge. "We got intelligence, captured leadership, prevented whatever corruption ritual they were planning here. That's a win."
"A win that required us to walk blind into danger."
"We walk into danger every night anyway. At least this time, backup was already in position."
Lia was quiet for a moment. "Do you trust her? Selene?"
Kaelen considered. "I trust that her goals align with ours. Stop Marcus, protect civilians, prevent the Shadow Lord's return. Beyond that?" He shrugged. "She's Shadow Hunter first, ally second. We need to remember that."
"Ronan trusts her."
"Ronan's known her for decades. We've known her for three weeks. Give it time."
Below, the prisoners were being loaded into unmarked wagons for transport to Shadow Hunter holding facilities. Selene directed operations with casual authority, every movement precise and purposeful.
"She's good at this," Lia admitted grudgingly. "The planning, the coordination, the tactical thinking. Even if her methods are... questionable."
"Good at what she does, questionable about how she does it," Kaelen agreed. "That's going to be our challenge—working with her without becoming like her."
"Is that possible?"
"It has to be. Because if we lose our principles trying to win, then Marcus was right—we're no different from him. Just another faction fighting for power, convinced our ends justify our means."
*Principles,* Soulrender mused. *Such fragile things. Easily discarded when convenient. But also, we suppose, what separates humans from weapons. We will never understand why you cling to them so fiercely.*
"Because they're all we have," Kaelen replied silently. "Take away the principles, and all that's left is the killing."
*Perhaps. Or perhaps principles are the lies you tell yourselves to make the killing bearable.*
It was a disturbing thought that Kaelen didn't want to examine too closely.
Selene called up from below: "Debrief in thirty minutes back at base. Everyone attend. We have plans to make."
Lia sighed. "Another late night of strategic planning."
"Welcome to the resistance," Kaelen said with a tired smile. "Coffee, questionable ethics, and very little sleep."
"At least it's never boring."
They made their way back down, rejoining the team. As they walked through Eredor's night streets, surrounded by Shadow Hunters and prisoners, Kaelen reflected on how much his life had changed in just a few weeks.
From drowning in a canal to fighting an apocalyptic cult. From desperate and alone to surrounded by allies. From wielding a cursed sword with no control to managing the power with increasing skill.
Progress. Messy, complicated, morally ambiguous progress. But progress nonetheless.
*You grow stronger,* Soulrender observed. *Not just in power, but in understanding. Soon, you will be truly formidable.*
"Or truly damned," Kaelen replied.
*Perhaps both. The line between formidable and damned is often very thin.*
Another uncomfortable truth from a weapon that saw the world in stark terms.
But as Kaelen walked beside Lia, with Ronan ahead and Selene leading, he realized something important: he wasn't walking that thin line alone. Whatever came next, whatever darkness they had to face, they would face it together.
It wasn't much of a comfort. But in a world of shadows and betrayal, any comfort was worth holding onto.
Even if it was as fragile as principle, as uncertain as trust.
Even if, in the end, it might not be enough.