The Blade’s Oath

Walid felt himself plummeting, his arms flailing in a void so vast and dark it seemed infinite. Shadows twisted and writhed around him, their jagged edges whispering venomously. A cacophony of laughter erupted, the voices cold and hollow.

"I will devour you."

"I will tear you apart."

"I will take your soul."

The words stabbed at his mind, each syllable more menacing than the last. A red glow burned in the distance, growing brighter as a monstrous figure loomed closer. Its maw stretched unnaturally wide, its eyes searing into his soul.

Walid screamed, but no sound escaped his lips. The creature lunged—

He awoke with a start, his breath ragged and his body drenched in sweat. For a moment, he couldn't tell if he was still dreaming. The dim room felt suffocating, the shadows lingering as if they had followed him from the abyss.

"Hey, newbie! Get up!"

Kael's voice broke through the haze. Walid blinked and turned to see the older man leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

"Wash your face and follow me outside. We've got a lot to cover."

Still shaken, Walid splashed cold water on his face from a basin near the wall. The coolness brought him back to reality, and he quickly dressed before hurrying after Kael.

Outside, the Crimson Veil's sanctuary city stretched before them, a stark contrast to the bustling vibrancy of Shaameach. This place was subdued and eerie, illuminated by the faint glow of lanterns casting long shadows on cobblestone streets. The buildings, constructed from dark stone and timber, leaned inward as though conspiring with the shadows. Veiled figures moved with purpose, their faces obscured and their steps silent.

Kael led Walid down a winding street, the faint sound of running water and the occasional murmur of voices breaking the stillness.

"I know Daemir gave you a crash course," Kael said, his tone light but edged with seriousness. "But I'm betting most of it went over your head. So I'll start from the top. Listen closely, Walid."

Kael pointed to a looming black structure in the distance. Its spires pierced the sky, shrouded in a perpetual mist that clung to its sharp edges.

"That's the Black Palace. It's where the Grand Master resides. His word is law, and disobedience here means death. No one questions him, and no one's ever seen his face. Some say he's more a myth than a man, but believe me, his influence is very real."

They turned a corner, passing through a narrow alley where the scent of metal and fire wafted faintly.

"Crimson Veil is a secret organization, independent of any kingdom or royal rule. Our missions vary—assassinations, espionage, and most importantly, acquiring crystals. These crystals are... well, let's just say they're the heart of everything we do. When bonded to someone, a crystal merges with their very soul, granting extraordinary powers. But it's a one-time deal. One crystal for life, no exceptions."

Walid nodded, trying to keep up with Kael's rapid explanations.

"You," Kael continued, "don't have a crystal yet. Instead, Daemir gave you something equally dangerous—a Blood Curse. It grants immense physical power but comes at a cost. Few survive the process, and fewer still control it without losing themselves. Be careful when you draw on it."

As they walked, Kael pointed out key landmarks—a quiet training courtyard here, a library of forbidden texts there. Finally, they arrived at a modest forge nestled near the edge of the city.

"This," Kael said with a grin, "is Sami Al-Haddad. The best blacksmith you'll ever meet, and the man who'll arm you for your missions."

The blacksmith looked up from his work, his face illuminated by the flickering forge light. He was a towering figure with a muscular frame, his hands calloused from years of shaping steel.

"A new recruit?" Sami rumbled, his deep voice resonating through the forge.

Kael nodded. "He needs a weapon. Something that suits him."

Sami circled Walid, his sharp eyes studying every detail—the way Walid stood, the shape of his hands, the tension in his shoulders.

"Hmm," Sami muttered. "A blade for someone who fights with precision but isn't afraid to get his hands dirty. A katana, perhaps. Something swift and lethal."

Without waiting for approval, Sami began gathering materials. Sparks flew as he hammered steel, the rhythmic clang of his work filling the forge. Kael leaned against the wall, watching with an approving smile.

"Your weapon will be your lifeline, Walid," he said. "Treat it with respect, and it'll never let you down. Sami's weapons are one of a kind. You're lucky to get one this early in your journey."

After hours of meticulous work, Sami finally presented the finished blade. The katana gleamed in the low light, its curved edge razor-sharp. The hilt was wrapped in black leather, the guard adorned with intricate carvings of intertwining flames.

Sami handed it to Walid with a solemn nod. "This is yours. It's more than just a weapon—it's an extension of who you are. Use it well."

Walid took the katana, feeling its weight and balance. It felt natural in his hands, as though it had been crafted specifically for him.

Kael clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to the Crimson Veil, Walid. Your real journey starts now."

Walid marveled at the katana in his hands, the intricate carvings on the blade's guard almost alive in the forge's light. The weapon seemed to hum faintly, resonating with something deep within him—a quiet, unspoken connection. He tightened his grip, a newfound sense of purpose coursing through his veins.

"Good," Sami said, his gruff voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. "But a weapon is only as strong as the one who wields it. Let's see if you're worthy of it."

Before Walid could respond, Sami reached behind the forge and pulled out a jagged, blackened blade. With surprising speed for someone his size, the blacksmith lunged at Walid.

Instinct took over. Walid sidestepped, bringing the katana up to parry. The clang of metal on metal echoed through the forge, sparks flying as the weapons collided.

"Not bad," Sami growled, pressing forward with another strike. "But hesitation will get you killed."

Walid gritted his teeth, each movement of the blade a delicate dance between survival and defeat. He felt the blood curse stir within him, a faint whisper in his mind urging him to let it loose.

No, he thought. Not yet.

"Focus!" Kael's voice rang out from the sidelines. "The blade is an extension of you, Walid. Feel its rhythm. Move with it!"

Sami struck again, his blade a blur. Walid deflected, then countered with a swift arc that forced Sami to step back. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Sami's lips curved into a grin.

"Good enough," the blacksmith said, lowering his weapon. "You've got potential, kid. Just don't waste it."

Kael clapped his hands together. "Well, that was entertaining. Come on, Walid. We've got more to cover."

Walid followed Kael out of the forge, his heart still racing. The streets of the sanctuary city were quieter now, the faint glow of the Black Palace ever-present in the distance.

"Why did he attack me?" Walid asked, breaking the silence.

"That's just Sami's way," Kael replied with a chuckle. "He doesn't trust anyone with his weapons until they prove themselves. Consider it a compliment—you passed his test."

They turned onto a broader street, where Kael stopped abruptly. He pointed toward a towering structure with a glass dome that shimmered under the pale moonlight.

"That," he said, "is the Hall of Crystals. It's where the Crimson Veil stores the crystals we've collected. Most of us can only dream of stepping foot inside. It's heavily guarded, and only the Grand Master himself decides who gets access to what's inside."

Walid stared at the structure, his curiosity piqued. "Have you ever been inside?"

Kael shook his head. "Not even close. Kane has, though. It's how he got his Soul Crystal. But the process isn't as simple as just picking one. The crystal has to choose you, and if it rejects you..."

Kael didn't finish the sentence, but the look in his eyes said enough.

"Let's keep moving," Kael said, leading Walid down another street.

They passed by more figures in cloaks, their faces obscured by masks. Some nodded at Kael in recognition, while others simply melted into the shadows. The air grew colder, the streets narrower.

Walid's mind buzzed with questions, but he knew better than to press further. He glanced back at the katana in his hand, its blade gleaming faintly in the brazier's light.

"You'll need more than skill with that sword to survive here, Walid," Kael said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "This place... it changes people. The Crimson Veil demands loyalty, but it also demands sacrifice. Keep your wits about you, and trust no one—not even me."

Walid frowned. "Not even you?"

Kael smirked, but there was no warmth in it. "Especially me."

The narrow alley reeked of damp stone and desperation, the perfect setting for Kael's low profile. As he led Walid deeper into the shadowy streets of Shaameach, his sharp eyes caught the faint flicker of crimson cloaks at the mouth of the alley.

Kael's body went rigid. His hand shot out, gripping Walid's shoulder firmly, halting him mid-step. "Not a word," he hissed, his tone brooking no argument.

"What is it?" Walid whispered, eyes darting nervously.

Kael didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pressed his back against the wall, motioning for Walid to follow suit. The air seemed heavier now, laden with an unspoken tension. Kael peered around the corner cautiously, catching a clearer glimpse of the approaching figures. Crimson cloaks. Enforcers.

Even within the Crimson Veil, the enforcers were a league of their own—a shadowy, elite force operating without transparency or accountability. Their presence struck fear even in the hearts of loyal members, for their brutal methods and uncompromising authority left no room for negotiation. Their arrival often signaled something sinister: an execution, a purge, or a mission of high stakes and deadly outcomes.

Kael's heart quickened, though his face remained impassive. The enforcers had no reason to be after him—or Walid, for that matter—but it didn't matter. Crossing their path, even unintentionally, could spiral into a dangerous confrontation. Their reputation was one of efficiency, not fairness.

He glanced at Walid, whose unease was palpable. The boy's breathing had quickened, his youthful naivety betraying him. "Calm yourself," Kael muttered under his breath. "If they notice you panicking, it's over."

Walid swallowed hard, nodding but saying nothing. He pressed himself further into the shadows, mimicking Kael's stillness.

The enforcers moved with an eerie precision, their bootfalls echoing ominously against the cobblestones. The crimson sigils on their cloaks glinted faintly under the dim light, a grim reminder of the power they wielded. Pedestrians scattered, averting their gazes, instinctively knowing better than to draw attention to themselves.

Kael remained perfectly still, his breathing controlled. His mind raced through contingencies, every one of them ending with the same conclusion: avoid contact at all costs. He could feel Walid trembling slightly beside him.

Finally, the enforcers passed, their presence like a storm that dissipates as quickly as it arrives. Kael waited a few moments longer before exhaling quietly. "Let's go," he murmured, his voice low but firm. "Keep your head down."

As they emerged from the alley, Walid whispered, "Who were they?"

Kael shot him a sharp look. "The kind of people you never want to meet," he replied curtly. "Not if you value your life."

The boy nodded, a mix of fear and curiosity etched on his face. Kael's expression hardened. The enforcers had passed, but their shadow lingered, a reminder of the dangerous game they were all playing. And in this game, one misstep could mean the end.