News of Kaelen wielding two Forbidden Blades simultaneously spread quickly.
Reactions were mixed. Admiration for the power. Terror at the implications. Questions about whether he was still controllable.
Isabella's reaction was pragmatic. "If he can wield two, maybe he can wield more. We need three blades minimum for the sealing ritual. He's our best candidate for gathering them."
"He's also becoming less human with each blade," Karsten warned during council meeting. "I examined him after Heartseeker integration. His consciousness is maybe ten percent human now. The rest is blade-dominant. Add more weapons and that percentage approaches zero."
"Ten percent human controlling multiple Forbidden Blades is better than zero percent human controlling Shadow Lord," Isabella replied. "We use the tools available. Kaelen is available."
So Kaelen was sent hunting.
Second target: Shadowfang. Last recorded in southern swamps, wielded by assassin who'd been executed but whose blade was never recovered.
Third target: Dawnbreaker. Ironic name for Forbidden Blade, but historical records claimed it was designed to counter other shadow weapons. Location: ruins of old war-fortress, eastern territories.
Kaelen tracked Shadowfang first. The swamps were hostile—toxic air, predatory wildlife, terrain that tried to swallow travelers. Normal humans would have died within days.
Kaelen wasn't normal human anymore. He moved through the swamps like native predator, senses enhanced by two blade-consciousnesses providing overlapping perception.
*Left*, Soulrender guided. *Shadow signature, fifty meters.*
*No*, Heartseeker contradicted. *False signature. Shadowfang is northeast, using swamp corruption to mask itself.*
They bickered constantly, those two. Like having argumentative voices in his head. Kaelen filtered their input, extracted useful information, ignored personality conflicts.
Found Shadowfang three days into the swamps. It had been consumed by swamp itself—blade-consciousness merged with local corruption, no longer distinct object but diffuse presence throughout region.
"That's... problematic," Lia said. She'd insisted on accompanying again despite obvious danger. "We can't extract blade that's become part of the environment."
*We can*, Heartseeker said through Kaelen's voice. *Consume the environment. Draw it all into host body.*
"That would kill you," Lia protested. "Corruption levels that high—"
"Wouldn't kill Kaelen Voss," Kaelen said. "He's already mostly dead. Would just finish the process." He paused. "But the synthesis might survive. Blade-dominant consciousness can handle corruption standard humans can't."
"You're talking about completing your transformation," Lia said. "About becoming fully weapon with no human aspects remaining."
"Yes."
"And you're just... accepting that?"
"Alternative is leaving Shadowfang unclaimed, reducing our sealing capability, dooming the mission," Kaelen replied logically. "Personal transformation is acceptable cost for mission success."
"It's not personal transformation," Lia argued. "It's death with your face continuing to move. That's not acceptable."
"Your opinion is noted," Kaelen said. Then began the consumption process.
Shadowfang's diffuse consciousness fought back. But three blade-consciousnesses working together overwhelmed it. The swamp's corruption flowed into Kaelen—not just Shadowfang, but centuries of accumulated shadow energy.
His body should have disintegrated. Normal flesh couldn't contain that much darkness.
But Kaelen's body was no longer entirely flesh. Blade-transformation had been progressing for months. The corruption didn't destroy him—it converted him.
When the process finished, Kaelen held three Forbidden Blades. Two in hands, one manifested directly from his transformed body.
And he looked wrong. Shadow-marked skin had become shadow-constructed. His eyes glowed with internal blade-presence. He moved with inhuman grace that suggested puppet manipulated by multiple consciousnesses.
"Kaelen?" Lia asked tentatively.
"Designation acknowledged," Kaelen replied. His voice held three distinct layers now. "Primary consciousness persists. Human aspects minimal but present. Mission parameters unchanged."
"You're referring to yourself in third person," Lia observed.
"No. I'm referring to Kaelen Voss remnant in third person. This entity is synthesis. Kaelen is component, not identity."
"So he's gone," Lia said flatly.
"Transformed. Not eliminated." The synthesis-entity tilted its head in gesture that was almost human. "Lia Thorne. Emotional attachment to previous configuration is acknowledged and... appreciated? Yes. Appreciation is appropriate response. But previous configuration was insufficient for mission requirements. Current configuration is necessary evolution."
"Evolution," Lia repeated bitterly. "You sound like Marcus. Like transformation justifies any cost."
"Cost-benefit analysis supports transformation," the synthesis said. "World's survival outweighs one individual's humanity. Kaelen Voss made that calculation. Synthesis honors his choice."
They returned to civilization. Lia maintaining professional distance from the thing that had been Kaelen. The synthesis not noticing or caring about the distance—social dynamics were low priority compared to mission parameters.
---
Dawnbreaker retrieval was faster. The blade was buried in fortress ruins, protected by ancient wards but not conscious guardians. Kaelen's synthesis-nature let him bypass wards designed for human intruders.
Fourth Forbidden Blade claimed.
Power kept increasing. So did disconnection from humanity.
Isabella assigned Kaelen to preliminary sealing preparations. His role was blade-anchor—holding the Forbidden Blades steady while mages wove sealing magic through them.
"It's working," Lia confirmed during practice runs. "The blades are stable, controllable, perfect anchors for ritual structure. If we find three more wielders, we might actually accomplish this."
"Three more wielders with sufficient compatibility," Karsten corrected. "Forbidden Blades don't accept random hosts. They're selective about consciousness they merge with."
"Then we force compatibility," Isabella said. "We have two months remaining. We use whatever methods necessary."
Methods turned out to be cruel. They recruited prisoners—criminals and captured cultists—and forced them to attempt blade-bonding. Most died. Some went insane. A few achieved partial integration but couldn't maintain it.
Kaelen watched the experiments with detachment. Intellectually recognized the suffering. Couldn't access appropriate horror.
"This bothers you," Ronan observed during one session.
"Affirmative. Human remnant finds process disturbing. But synthesis acknowledges necessity. Optimal solution to resource constraints."
"You're talking like machine," Ronan said. "Kid—Kaelen—whoever you are now. Please tell me some part of you still cares about this. Still recognizes we're torturing people for tactical advantage."
"Recognition: confirmed. Emotional response: insufficient to override mission priorities." The synthesis paused. "Apology. This answer is inadequate. But it's accurate."
"You're lost," Ronan said quietly. "Completely lost. And I don't know how to get you back."
"Recovery not possible," the synthesis confirmed. "Only forward progression remains. Toward mission completion. Then..." It hesitated. "Unknown. Post-mission existence parameters undefined."
"You haven't thought about what happens after we seal the Shadow Lord?" Ronan asked.
"Negative. Survival beyond mission conclusion uncertain. Planning for uncertain future is inefficient."
"That's giving up," Ronan said. "That's accepting you're already dead."
"Accurate," the synthesis agreed. "Kaelen Voss died. Synthesis persists. But persistence past mission requirements questionable. Why maintain when purpose complete?"
"Because maybe you can recover," Ronan insisted. "Maybe someone can separate the blades, restore what was lost, bring back the person you were."
"Probability: near zero. Blade-consciousness irreversibly integrated. Separation would eliminate synthesis without restoring original configuration."
"You can't know that for certain."
"Projection based on available data strongly suggests—"
"I don't care what data suggests!" Ronan grabbed the synthesis's shoulders. "I care that you used to be a person worth saving! That Kaelen Voss was stubborn bastard who refused to give up! And maybe he's buried under blade-dominance, but maybe he's still fighting! Don't declare him dead while he might still be struggling!"
The synthesis processed this. Human remnant stirred—fragment responding to Ronan's emotion despite blade-dominance.
"...will continue," it said finally. Voice slightly different. "Past mission completion. Will persist. Will attempt recovery if possible. For Ronan. For humans who... care? Yes. Who care."
"Thank you," Ronan said. "That's all I'm asking. Just try."
"Trying," the synthesis confirmed.
But they both knew it was probably futile.
The countdown continued. Six weeks. Five weeks. Four.
They found two more blade-compatible individuals through the cruel experiments. Not full integration like Kaelen, but enough to serve as ritual anchors.
Three blades accounted for. Three anchors established.
The sealing became theoretically possible.
Just required surviving until ritual completion.
And hoping the Shadow Lord didn't manifest early.
And praying that something recognizably human remained when it was over.
Too many variables. Too much uncertainty.
But it was what they had.
So they prepared. Practiced. Refined.
And hoped it would be enough.