Chapter Twenty- Four: The Whisper’s Edge

The Valley of Whispers stretched before them, a desolate expanse where mists curled like living things and petrified bones jutted from the earth like broken teeth. Ethan felt the Blade of Command, Severed Fang, Veydranos, thrum against his back, its hum louder under the severing star's silver light.

The Nightbound Court moved silently, their silver-threaded cloaks blending with the fog, but their ember-red and sapphire-blue eyes betrayed unease. The pack's wolves growled low, hackles raised at the valley's wrongness.

Helena clutched her satchel, her face pale as she scanned the shifting mists. "The voices here are old," she said, her voice steady but tight. "They'll try to unravel us."

Ethan gripped Veydranos's hilt, its pulse grounding him against the whispers that clawed at his mind. Faces formed in the fog: his mother, eyes hollow; a wolf, bloodied; a figure cloaked in fire. The Rite was close, but so was betrayal. The Nightbound's leader, who had warned of a false oath in Boneglass Canyon, watched him with unblinking red eyes, their silence heavier than words.

Rufik trudged beside him, axe slung over his shoulder, his bandaged arm stiff. "These Nightbound move like they've already died," he muttered. "I don't trust their oaths, Ethan. Not after that shadow's talk of traitors."

"They swore to the Blade of Command," Ethan said, though his own doubt lingered. The Severed Fang's weight felt heavier here, as if it sensed the valley's hunger. "If they break that, they answer to this."

The company pressed deeper, the ground soft and treacherous, swallowing boots with every step. The whispers grew louder, forming words: failure, betrayer, doomed. The pack tightened their formation, claws flexing, while the Nightbound's spears glinted, their runes pulsing faintly. Ethan's silvered eyes caught movement in the mist, but when he turned, nothing was there. Veydranos thrummed, urging him forward, toward the heart of the valley.

A vision struck without warning. His hand on the Severed Fang burned, and the world dissolved. He saw a warrior, clad in bone armor, betrayed by comrades, their blades piercing his back as Veydranos fell from his grip. Then a sorceress, her eyes glowing with stolen power, screaming as the Blade of Command consumed her. Then a king, kneeling at an altar, his soul unraveling under the severing star. Each vision ended with a woman's voice, sharp as flame: "They bled too early. You must not." Ethan staggered, the valley snapping back into focus. Helena caught his arm, her eyes wide. "What did you see?"

"Past wielders," he said, voice low. "They all failed. Veydranos showed me."

Helena's face tightened. "The valley amplifies the Blade of Command's memories. It's testing you, Ethan. Your heart must hold."

Rufik snorted, kicking a bone from the path. "Testing? Feels like a curse. That blade's more trouble than it's worth."

Ethan didn't answer, but the visions lingered, their weight pressing against his dual bloods. The wolf in him snarled, craving freedom; the vampire stirred, hungry for control. Veydranos wove them together, a convergence that felt both powerful and perilous.

The group halted when a Nightbound warrior, Kael, with ember-red eyes, lingered near Helena's satchel. Rufik rounded on him, axe half-raised. "Keep your hands off her scrolls, ghost. You looking to betray us already?"

Kael's spear twitched, his voice cold. "Your mistrust weakens us, wolf. I guard the Severed Fang's chosen, not your relics."

Ethan stepped between them, Veydranos flaring with silver light, silencing the argument. The Nightbound's leader approached, their voice like cracked stone. "The false oath is not Kael's, Half-Born. But it is near. Trust the Blade of Command, not its bearers."

The words hung heavy as the company resumed their march, the valley's whispers growing sharper. By dusk, they reached a narrow pass where the mists parted, revealing a towering figure clad in shattered armor, its face a hollow void. It wielded a shadow of Veydranos, its edge dull but menacing. The air grew thick, the pack and Nightbound frozen by an unseen force. The figure spoke, its voice a chorus of shattered glass. "I am the Keeper of the Severing. Prove your heart is whole, wielder, or join us in ash."

Ethan drew the Blade of Command, its silver edge blazing. "I'm not here to join you."

The guardian lunged, its blade cutting silently, conjuring illusions from the mist: Helena burning, Rufik's throat torn open, the Nightbound turning on Ethan. Each vision clawed at his resolve, but Veydranos guided his strikes, its light piercing the illusions. Ethan channeled his wolf's ferocity and vampire's precision, his movements a blur. The guardian's blows were ice-cold, pulling at his soul, but the Severed Fang flared, banishing the specter with a final strike. As it crumbled, it hissed, "The Rite demands all you are."

The valley's magic released the group, who stood breathless, weapons drawn but unused. Rufik spat, wiping sweat from his brow. "I really hate this place."

Helena's gaze lingered on Ethan, her voice soft. "The Blade of Command protected you. But the Keeper spoke truth. You're not the first, and they failed for a reason."

At camp, under the severing star's cold glow, Helena pored over a scroll fragment, her fingers trembling. She looked up, her eyes haunted. "The Rite of Severance requires more than blood. It demands a piece of your soul, Ethan. Past wielders failed because their souls were divided, by fear or betrayal. Your convergence might be enough, but if your heart falters, it'll unravel you."

Rufik's face darkened. "And you kept this quiet? We're marching to his death, and you're reading scrolls like it's a riddle?"

"I didn't know until now," Helena snapped, her fire returning. "The Blade of Command chose him for a reason. We trust it."

Ethan's chest tightened, Veydranos's hum a steady pulse. "And if I'm not enough?"

Helena had no answer.

As dawn broke, they reached the valley's heart, where a stone altar glowed under the severing star, its surface etched with runes that mirrored Veydranos's blade. The air thrummed, the whispers now a deafening chorus. Kael stepped forward, drawing a hidden blade, his voice sharp. "The Nightbound's leader lies. They seek the Blade of Command for themselves."

The leader countered, their spear raised. "Kael's oath is false. He would claim Veydranos and doom us all."

Ethan gripped the Severed Fang, its light flaring, revealing a shadow behind Kael, a wraith-like figure mimicking his form. Velhara's voice echoed in his mind: "Choose, or all is lost." The altar's glow intensified, the Rite imminent, but betrayal loomed closer than the enemy.

Trust was a blade, and it was turning in Ethan's hand.