The aftermath of the trial was chaos.
Forty-three dead—nobles, guards, civilians caught in the collapse. Another sixty injured. The Grand Chamber was a ruin. And Marcus Blackwood, the most wanted criminal in three kingdoms, had escaped.
Political fallout was instantaneous and savage.
"How?" Council Member Theron demanded during the emergency session. "How did cultists infiltrate a supposedly secure trial? How did the wards fail? How did Marcus escape from maximum restraints?"
"Systematic infiltration over months," Isabella reported, her voice tight with controlled fury. "The cultists placed explosives during construction renovations three months ago. They compromised ward maintenance staff. They had people in place as guards, as servants, as witnesses. It was comprehensive."
"And the Shadow's Champion?" another noble asked, looking at Kaelen. "Where was he during the escape?"
"Engaging enemy forces," Kaelen said. His voice came out flat, emotionless. "I neutralized multiple threats but couldn't prevent Marcus's extraction."
"Couldn't or wouldn't?" Theron challenged. "You have unprecedented power. Marcus was fifty feet away in a confined space. Why didn't you stop him?"
Because Soulrender had frozen him. Because the blade had asserted control at the critical moment. Because Kaelen wasn't actually in charge of his own body when it mattered most.
"Tactical complexity," Kaelen lied. "Multiple combatants, collapsing structure, civilian casualties to prevent. I made the choices that saved the most lives."
"But not the choice that captured our greatest enemy," Theron said coldly. "Convenient."
"Are you accusing me of complicity?" Kaelen asked, his temper flaring—and then being suppressed by Soulrender's influence. The blade wanted him calm, controlled, not making scenes.
That external control terrified him more than the accusation.
"I'm questioning your effectiveness," Theron replied. "You're supposed to be our ultimate weapon. But when we needed you most, you failed."
"Enough," Isabella cut in. "Kaelen fought. People would have died without his intervention. Blaming him for Marcus's escape accomplishes nothing. We focus on recovery and recapture."
The session continued—assigning blame, planning responses, managing political damage. Kaelen sat through it in numb horror, feeling Soulrender's presence in his mind like a second consciousness that could override his own at will.
*Why are you afraid?* Soulrender asked. *I helped. Prevented you from making poor tactical choices.*
*You took control*, Kaelen thought back. *Without permission. That's possession, not partnership.*
*Semantics. The result was optimal. Isn't that what matters?*
*No. The process matters. My autonomy matters.*
*Your autonomy is illusion*, Soulrender replied. *You were never fully in control. I've simply made the hierarchy explicit. Accept it and adapt.*
Kaelen couldn't. But he also couldn't fight it here, now, surrounded by people who'd imprison or kill him if they knew the truth.
So he played the role. Nodded at appropriate times. Accepted assignments. Pretended everything was fine.
And screamed internally.
---
After the session, Ronan found him.
"You okay?" Ronan asked quietly. "You seem... off."
"Forty-three people died," Kaelen said. "Marcus escaped. I'm not okay."
"That's not what I mean." Ronan studied him carefully. "During the fight—I saw you hesitate. Saw you freeze when you should have pursued. What happened?"
"Nothing," Kaelen lied. "Just tactical assessment taking too long."
"Bullshit. You don't hesitate anymore. Haven't in months. Your reaction time is inhuman—literally. So why did you freeze when Marcus was right there?"
Because Soulrender wouldn't let him move. Because the blade had demonstrated that Kaelen's control was conditional, granted at Soulrender's pleasure.
"I don't know," Kaelen said. "Maybe I'm not as in control as everyone thinks."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Ronan replied. "Kaelen—if the blade is affecting your judgment, your reactions, you need to report it. This isn't something you can handle alone."
"And what happens if I report it?" Kaelen asked. "Isabella locks me up. Probably tries to separate me from Soulrender. Maybe kills me if separation isn't possible. Those are my options."
"Better than losing yourself completely," Ronan said.
"Maybe I've already lost myself," Kaelen replied. "Maybe I'm just remnant consciousness in a weapon that's learned to talk."
"Don't say that," Ronan said sharply. "You're still you. Different, changed, but you. Fight for that. Don't surrender to the blade's influence."
Easy to say. Harder to do when the blade could override his will at any moment.
---
That night, Kaelen sought out Lia. Found her in the archives, as usual.
"We need to talk," he said.
"If this is about us—" Lia started.
"It's about Soulrender," Kaelen interrupted. "During the fight, it took control. Complete control. I couldn't move, couldn't act, couldn't do anything except what it allowed. Lia, I'm losing the war for my own consciousness."
Lia's expression shifted from guarded to concerned. "How long has this been happening?"
"First time it was complete. But I've felt it before—gentle nudges, suggestions that feel like my own thoughts but aren't. It's been gradual, but today it just... took over. Reminded me that I exist at its pleasure."
"And you didn't tell anyone?" Lia demanded.
"Who do I tell? Isabella will imprison me. The council wants me gone anyway. You're the only person who might actually help instead of just neutralizing the threat."
Lia was quiet for a long moment. "I might know someone. Researcher who specializes in Forbidden Blade consciousness. She's... controversial. The kingdoms banned her work decades ago. But if anyone can help you reclaim autonomy, it's her."
"Where is she?"
"Northern territories, beyond kingdom jurisdiction. Three days travel, maybe four."
"Isabella won't approve that mission," Kaelen said.
"So don't ask," Lia replied. "Just go. I'll cover for you—say you're on deep reconnaissance or something. Buy you a week."
"That's desertion," Kaelen pointed out.
"That's survival. Kaelen, if you don't fix this, you're going to lose yourself entirely. Either to Soulrender's control or to Isabella's preventive execution. Running is your only option."
She was right. But running meant abandoning his position, his responsibilities, his mission.
*You see?* Soulrender observed. *Human concepts of duty are traps. Go. Seek this researcher. Learn what you wish. I'm confident in my control regardless.*
That arrogance might be an opening. If Soulrender was confident, maybe it would be less vigilant.
"Okay," Kaelen said. "I'll go. But Lia—if I don't come back, if this goes wrong—"
"You'll come back," Lia said firmly. "You're too stubborn to give up. Now go, before someone notices you're planning to leave."
---
Kaelen left that night.
No fanfare, no goodbye, just slipping out of the palace in darkness. His transformed senses made stealth trivial—he could feel guard patrols through shadow connections, avoid detection by simply not being where people looked.
By dawn, he was miles from Eredor, heading north toward territories where kingdom authority didn't reach.
*Running away*, Soulrender observed. *How human.*
*Strategic retreat*, Kaelen corrected.
*If you say so. Though I question the logic—this researcher can't help you. I'm integrated too deeply. Short of death, we're permanent.*
*Then I learn to coexist*, Kaelen thought. *Learn to fight back.*
*Or learn to accept your nature*, Soulrender replied. *Accepting would be easier.*
*Easier isn't better*, Kaelen thought.
*Philosophy of the weak*, Soulrender said dismissively.
They continued north in silence, consciousness and blade, human and weapon, locked in struggle for control of one body.
The journey would take days. In that time, Kaelen needed to figure out how to reclaim himself.
Or accept that the person called Kaelen Voss had already ceased to exist.
Leaving only the Shadow's Champion—tool of kingdoms, puppet of forbidden magic, monster wearing human face.
He walked into the northern wilderness, carrying both hope and dread.
And behind him, in Eredor, Lia began the complicated process of covering for his absence.
Buying time she wasn't sure would be enough.
For a person she wasn't sure still existed to save.
But she'd try anyway.
Because that's what you did for people you'd once loved.
Even when they'd become something else entirely.
---
In his cell, Marcus smiled.
The escape had gone perfectly. But better than the escape was what he'd learned.
Kaelen Voss, the great Shadow's Champion, was losing his battle with Soulrender.
Soon, very soon, the kingdoms would have a much bigger problem than one escaped prisoner.
They'd have a Forbidden Blade in complete control of unprecedented power.
And Marcus would be there to welcome it into the new world he was building.
Everything was proceeding exactly as he'd planned.
Better than planned, actually.
He laughed in the darkness of his temporary hideout, already planning his next move.
The game continued.
And this time, victory was inevitable.