Chapter 16: The Claiming of the Voidblade

Eryndor's fingers tightened around the hilt of the Voidblade. The sword felt cold, a chill that sank into his bones, yet his grip remained steady. The translucent figure before him—its eyes voids of endless dark—watched with an unsettling stillness.

"Eryndor!" Lyra's voice cut through the shadows, strained but firm. "Don't let it take you."

He felt the pull, a thread connecting him to the blade, to the cavern, to the sea itself. It whispered to him, a susurrus of promises and threats. His vision wavered, the world tilting as if he stood on the edge of a precipice.

The specter's voice echoed, each word layered with distant screams. "To hold the blade is to bear the curse. Are you willing, Captain?"

Eryndor's pulse thundered in his ears. He thought of his crew, their haunted eyes, the desperation etched into their faces. He thought of the drowned, souls forever lost to the tide. If he did nothing, they would join them—one by one, dragged into the depths.

"I am willing," he said, his voice firm. "But on my terms."

A ripple passed through the cavern, as if the very air held its breath. The specter leaned closer, its form wavering. "A bargain, then?"

Elys took a step forward, her blade gleaming with the damp. "Be careful, Eryndor. Bargains with the dead rarely end well."

Orin's runestones glowed with a cold light. "We need to understand the terms. What does the sea demand?"

The figure's hollow eyes turned to Orin, and a shadow stretched from its feet, curling along the ground like spilled ink. "The sea is owed blood and bones. The blade must be sated. The promise of old fulfilled."

Lyra raised her hands, a faint shimmer of magic dancing at her fingertips. "And if we refuse?"

The specter's mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile. "Then the sea will feast on your refusal. The void is always hungry."

Eryndor glanced at his companions. They were weary, their faces streaked with salt and shadow. But they stood with him—unwavering. He turned back to the specter. "If the blade is bound to a curse, then tell me how to break it."

The specter hesitated, a ripple of something almost human passing over its features. "To break the curse, you must face the storm. The blade must draw the blood of the one who forged it. Only then will the sea release its claim."

Orin's expression darkened. "But if the forger is long dead?"

"Then the blood of his line shall suffice."

Elys's eyes widened. "A bloodline curse? Do you know who forged it?"

The specter drifted closer, its form losing cohesion, edges blurring. "The forger was a king. His blood still walks the earth, though shadows cling to his lineage."

Eryndor's mind raced. "A descendant. We need to find the bloodline."

The specter's voice thinned, as if carried away by the wind. "The sea knows. It will guide you. But beware—the void does not part with its prey easily."

The figure dissipated, its form unraveling like smoke. The cavern shuddered, stalactites raining briny water. The Voidblade pulsed in Eryndor's hand, its blue veins flaring with each beat of his heart.

"We need to leave," Lyra said. "This place is unraveling."

The crew hurried back through the winding path, shadows curling at their heels. The ship awaited them, its deck slick with rain and the remains of frost. As they boarded, the water churned, a whirlpool forming at the mouth of the cove.

"The sea is angry," Orin muttered, his runestones vibrating in his grip. "We've awakened something."

Eryndor sheathed the blade, feeling its weight against his side. "Then we sail. We find this bloodline. And we end this."

The ship creaked as it pushed away from the island, the storm swallowing the sky. Lightning flashed, and in its brief light, they saw shadows beneath the waves—figures gliding just below the surface, their hollow eyes watching, waiting.

Elys tightened the sails, her knuckles white. "Where do we start?"

Lyra closed her eyes, her magic reaching out. "I'll find them. The bloodline. The sea may guide us, but I'll see beyond its lies."

The wind howled, and the ship cut through the water, a sliver of hope in a sea of dark. The void pulled at them, but Eryndor stood firm, his resolve like iron.

The journey ahead was uncertain, but the first step had been taken. And in the depths, something stirred, ancient and restless, watching their every move.