Fortune_Patrick

In the war-torn kingdom of Velmora, a prophecy foretells that only one warrior can wield the legendary blade Solmara and end the centuries-old war. That warrior is Kael Dain, a battle-hardened outcast raised among mercenaries, unaware of his true lineage.

But the prophecy comes with a cruel twist—Kael must forsake love, for the one he gives his heart to will bring the kingdom to ruin.

Then he meets Seraphine, a mysterious healer with eyes like molten gold and a past shrouded in secrets. Drawn to her in ways he cannot explain, Kael discovers too late that Seraphine is tied to the prophecy—her blood unlocks Solmara’s true power, and if she dies, the blade awakens.

As dark forces rise and betrayal lurks in every shadow, King Varos, a ruthless ruler obsessed with fulfilling the prophecy for his own gain, seeks to capture Seraphine and bend fate to his will.

Now, Kael faces an impossible choice: sacrifice the woman he loves to fulfill his destiny and save the kingdom, or defy fate and risk plunging the world into eternal war.

the fatebound blade

The moment Kael's fingers brushed the hilt of Solmara, a shockwave tore through the chamber.

The temple, the ruins, even Seraphine—gone.

Not the kind found in the night or shadows. This was deeper. Older. A void that stretched beyond time.

Kael stood frozen, his breath sharp in his throat.

Not a whisper this time, but a deep, resonating presence that filled the space around him.

Kael turned sharply, his sword half-raised—only to find that he was not holding it.

His hands were empty. Solmara was gone.

It was cloaked in black armor, edged in silver, the same runes that lined the sword carved into the metal. A helm obscured its face, but its presence was undeniable—powerful, ancient, watching him with something between expectation and disappointment.

The figure did not answer. Instead, it lifted its hand—and a familiar sword appeared within its grasp.

The figure turned the blade slowly, examining it with something almost reverent.

"Do you know what this is?" the voice asked.

The figure let out a low, almost amused sound. "Is that all?"

Kael clenched his jaw. "What else is it?"

The figure took a slow step forward, the void shuddering around them.

The voice continued. "You were meant to take this blade long ago. But you refused it. You ran from what you are."

Kael's breath came sharp. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The space around them cracked, as if reality itself was breaking apart. Flashes of light and shadow twisted around him—visions he could not grasp.

A figure standing on the ruins, Solmara in hand.

The armored figure watched him in silence, as if waiting for him to understand.

"You are not just a warrior," the voice said at last. "You are the consequence of a broken prophecy."

The words sent an ache through his skull, a pressure deep inside him that felt like something long buried was trying to rise.

Kael took a step back. "I don't believe in prophecies."

The figure tilted its head. "Then why do they believe in you?"

Another shockwave ripped through the void.

Kael stumbled. The darkness fractured.

A blinding light tore through the space—

Kael hit the temple floor with a gasp.

His lungs burned as if he had been drowning. His hands scrambled against the stone, searching for something solid.

The chamber was back. The ruins. The altar.

She was kneeling beside him, her hands gripping his shoulders. Her golden eyes burned with concern.

He sucked in a breath, the weight of the void still clinging to him. His limbs trembled.

His fingers curled around something cold and solid.

It was no longer resting on the altar. It was in his hands.

The runes along the blade glowed faintly, pulsing as if responding to his heartbeat.

Seraphine's grip on him tightened. "What happened?"

How could he explain what had just happened? The void, the armored figure, the words that still echoed in his skull?

Seraphine's gaze sharpened. "Kael."

He exhaled shakily. "I think I just spoke to something

chapter 9: The blade’s awakening