The first week back in Eredor was administrative hell.
Debriefings. Medical evaluations. Corruption assessments. Political meetings. Paperwork documenting everything that had happened at the ritual site. Kaelen attended dozens of meetings where people asked the same questions in slightly different ways, seeking details he barely remembered through the haze of transformation.
"When you merged with Soulrender, did you experience sensory distortion?"
"How would you describe your current emotional baseline?"
"Rate your aggression levels on a scale of one to ten."
"Do you experience intrusive thoughts from the blade's consciousness?"
Endless questions, endless probing, everyone treating him like a fascinating specimen rather than a person.
Mage Karsten was the worst. She'd been assigned as his primary evaluator—not Lia's, thankfully, since Lia had her own separate assessment schedule with different mages.
"Your corruption reading is stable but unprecedented," Karsten said during one session, magical sensors hovering around Kaelen's body. "You're not accumulating new Shadow Scars, but the existing ones are... evolving. Becoming part of your baseline physiology instead of damage markers."
"Is that good or bad?" Kaelen asked.
"Unknown. You're the first successful integration. We have no comparative data." Karsten made notes. "How are you sleeping?"
"Fine."
"How many hours per night?"
"Two or three."
"That's not fine," Karsten said. "Normal humans need seven to eight hours."
"I'm not a normal human anymore," Kaelen pointed out. "Maybe I don't need as much sleep."
"Or maybe your altered state is preventing proper rest." Karsten's sensors shifted to analyze his neural patterns. "Interesting. Your brain activity during waking hours resembles deep meditation. Like you're simultaneously alert and resting. That's... actually quite efficient."
"So it's not a problem?"
"It's an adaptation. Whether it's a problem long-term remains to be seen." More notes. "Tell me about your emotional responses. Any changes since last assessment?"
Kaelen had learned to lie during these sessions. Not completely—Karsten had too many magical sensors for complete deception—but strategically.
"Some detachment," he admitted. "But manageable."
"Define manageable."
"I can still function in social situations. Still make appropriate decisions. Just feel less intensely than before."
"And that doesn't concern you?"
"Of course it concerns me. But there's nothing I can do about it, so I'm adapting."
Karsten studied him with unsettling intensity. "You're very calm about potentially losing your humanity."
"Panicking won't help," Kaelen said. "I can either adapt to what I'm becoming or resist and suffer. Adaptation seems more practical."
"That's very rational," Karsten observed. "Almost too rational. Normal people would be more emotionally distressed by fundamental transformation."
"Maybe normal people don't have Forbidden Blades offering perspective," Kaelen replied.
*Careful*, Soulrender warned in his mind. *She's probing for signs of my dominance over your consciousness.*
Kaelen adjusted his response. "I'm distressed. But I'm also practical. What's the point of being consumed by fear when I need to function?"
"There's a balance between denial and pragmatism," Karsten said. "You're leaning heavily toward pragmatism. That can be a coping mechanism or a sign of emotional suppression."
"Which do you think it is?"
"I think you're changing faster than you're admitting," Karsten said bluntly. "And I think you're hiding it because you're afraid of being locked up. But Kaelen—hiding the changes doesn't stop them. It just makes them harder to manage when they inevitably surface."
She wasn't wrong. But admitting the full extent of his transformation felt like inviting imprisonment.
"I'm being honest about the changes I can identify," Kaelen said carefully. "If there are changes I'm not recognizing, I can't report them. That's why you're doing these assessments—to catch what I miss."
"Fair point," Karsten conceded. "But try to maintain self-awareness. The moment you stop questioning your own responses is the moment you've lost yourself completely."
The session concluded with Karsten's standard warning about reporting any unusual symptoms immediately. Kaelen agreed, as he always did, and left wondering how long until she decided he was too dangerous to remain free.
---
Training was different now.
Ronan ran him through combat drills daily, ostensibly to maintain skills but actually to monitor his control and aggression levels. Kaelen could tell. Could read the subtle ways Ronan pushed him toward frustration or tested his restraint.
"Again," Ronan commanded after Kaelen completed a form. "Faster this time."
Kaelen obliged, his transformed body moving with inhuman speed and precision. The form that should have taken thirty seconds completed in ten.
"Slower," Ronan corrected. "You're not trying to demonstrate power. You're trying to maintain human movement patterns."
"Why?" Kaelen asked. "This is more efficient."
"Because moving like that in public makes people afraid," Ronan said. "You need to be able to pass for normal when necessary. Save the superhuman stuff for actual combat."
It made sense. But it also felt like suppressing his nature, pretending to be less than he was to make others comfortable.
"How long can I sustain the illusion?" Kaelen asked. "Eventually people will notice I'm not aging normally, not tiring, not functioning like a regular human."
"Cross that bridge when we reach it," Ronan said. "For now, focus on blending in when possible. Makes life easier."
They continued drilling. Ronan adjusted Kaelen's stance, criticized his footwork, demanded repetition until movements looked human rather than optimal.
"You're frustrated," Ronan observed.
"I'm being asked to perform worse than I'm capable of," Kaelen replied.
"You're being asked to be strategic about displaying capabilities. That's different." Ronan paused the drill. "Listen, kid. You're powerful now. Genuinely dangerous in ways that make kingdoms nervous. If you want to avoid being locked in a dungeon for everyone's safety, you need to prove you can exercise restraint. That means not showing full power unless absolutely necessary."
"So I pretend to be weaker than I am," Kaelen said.
"You demonstrate control," Ronan corrected. "There's a difference. Weak means incapable. Controlled means capable but disciplined. People trust controlled power. They fear unrestrained power."
It was manipulation. Political theater. Everything Kaelen's transformed mind recognized as necessary but couldn't genuinely appreciate the importance of.
"I'll try," he said.
"Don't try. Do." Ronan's expression softened slightly. "I know this is hard. Adjusting to new capabilities while everyone watches for signs you're going rogue. But you're handling it better than most would. Just... stay human enough that people remember you're still Kaelen Voss, not just the Shadow's Champion."
That was the challenge, wasn't it? Remaining recognizably human while becoming fundamentally inhuman.
Kaelen wasn't sure it was possible.
But he had to try.
---
Evenings were for Lia.
They'd negotiated permission for regular "research collaboration sessions"—political language for spending time together without scandalizing the court. It meant they could be in the same room, working on their respective projects, maintaining some semblance of their previous connection.
Tonight they sat in one of the archive rooms, surrounded by ancient texts. Lia researched echo-scar management while Kaelen studied historical accounts of Forbidden Blade wielders.
"Listen to this," Lia said, looking up from a crumbling manuscript. "There's a technique called 'sympathetic purification' where two corrupted mages can stabilize each other by balancing their corruptions. Like how our resonance armor worked."
"We can't use the resonance armor anymore," Kaelen pointed out. "You said one more activation would kill you."
"But the principle might work without full activation. Small-scale balancing instead of combat-level power." Lia's eyes lit up with research enthusiasm. "If we could develop a passive version, it might slow both our corruption progressions."
"Worth trying," Kaelen said. Though he wasn't sure he wanted to slow his progression anymore. The changes were uncomfortable but also freeing in ways he couldn't fully articulate.
They worked in comfortable silence for a while. This was easier than trying to maintain romantic connection—they could just exist near each other, pursuing parallel goals, not demanding emotional engagement Kaelen struggled to provide.
"Can I ask you something?" Lia said eventually.
"Sure."
"Do you still want to be with me? Honestly?"
The question Kaelen had been avoiding. "I don't know. Part of me does. Part of me thinks I should let you go before I hurt you. And part of me doesn't feel strongly either way, which is probably the most telling answer."
"At least you're honest," Lia said quietly.
"You deserve honesty."
"I deserve a lot of things," Lia replied. "But apparently this is what I'm getting—a relationship with someone who's losing capacity to reciprocate. It's not ideal, but it's not nothing either."
"You could find someone else," Kaelen said. "Someone who can properly—"
"Stop," Lia interrupted. "Stop deciding what I should do. I'm an adult. I know what I'm getting into. If I want to stay with you while you transform into something unprecedented, that's my choice."
"It's not fair to you."
"Neither was getting permanent echo-scars from our resonance armor. Neither was watching you nearly die multiple times. Neither was falling in love with someone wielding a Forbidden Blade in the first place." Lia's voice held frustration but also determination. "None of this is fair. We're just dealing with it."
She had a point. Their entire relationship had been built on unfair circumstances and impossible situations. Why should this be different?
"Okay," Kaelen said. "We keep trying. But Lia—the moment I become genuinely dangerous to you, emotionally or physically, I'm walking away. That's not negotiable."
"Agreed," Lia said. "And the moment you're too far gone to be worth staying for, I'll leave. Deal?"
"Deal."
They returned to their research, the tension eased slightly but not resolved.
*She will leave eventually*, Soulrender observed. *Your transformation is ongoing. The distance will become uncrossable.*
*Maybe*, Kaelen thought. *But not today. Today we're still trying.*
*Hope is a dangerous thing for beings like us*, Soulrender said.
*Then I'll be dangerous*, Kaelen replied.
Outside, the city settled into evening routine. Inside, two changed people tried to pretend they could sustain normalcy.
Knowing they probably couldn't.
Trying anyway.
Because what else was there to do?