Kale awoke with a gasp, the cold air stabbing into his lungs like shards of ice. He jerked upright, chest heaving as the remnants of crackling energy danced around him. Flashes of light arced across the floor, then faded. The lingering charge prickled his skin.

He blinked, scanning the strange, dim surroundings. He wasn’t in his bed, hell, he wasn’t even in his house. Stone walls loomed around him, old and weathered, and an altar stood at the center of the room, bathed in eerie blue light.

He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, his movements stiff. Then he saw the blood.

It was everywhere.

Thick, dark pools of blood on the cold stone floor. Blood smeared violently across the altar. Droplets fell with a nauseating rhythm, dripping from bodies draped lifelessly over stone slabs. Their faces were twisted in agony, eyes wide and frozen in their final moments.

Kale took a step back. Where the hell was he? What the hell had happened?

He stumbled forward, his breath fogging in the cold air as he edged closer to the altar. He felt sick, his heart thundering in his chest, thumping in his ears. He moved closer to the altar, despite the voice in his head screaming at him to stop. That’s when he saw her.

A woman. Or, at least, what was left of her.

Her body lay on top of the altar, her skin charred and blackened, as if consumed by fire, but her head, severed from the neck, remained untouched, pristine. Her features were flawless, too delicate to belong to the blood-soaked horror around her. Long, silken white hair fanned around her unnaturally perfect face. Her eyes were closed, almost peaceful in death. What have they done to you? Kale thought.

On the floor next to the altar he spotted a small dagger. It looked simple, unremarkable, save for the gleaming ruby embedded in its crossguard. At first glance the blade appeared clean, untouched by the blood that drenched everything around it. But as Kale moved closer, a faint dark stain glistened along the edge. This was the instrument used to sever the head of the woman lying before him, sacrificed in this grim and violent ritual.

He reached for it almost instinctively. The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, a warm surge of energy shot up his arm and spread through his body. The blade responded, its surface glowing faintly blue.

The woman's eyes snapped open.

Kale froze as her red eyes bore into him. First, her expression was blank, almost confused, then her lips slowly twisted into a smile.

"You..." she murmured. "You’re not him."

Kale took a step back. "What the—?"

Her eyes flicked to the bodies around the room, then back to him. "Idiots. They botched their little ritual and summoned you instead of their god."

"What happened?" Kale asked, still struggling to process what was going on.

"You happened," she said, her grin widening. "They were trying to summon something divine, and instead, they got..." She looked him up and down. "...you."

Before Kale could respond, the sound of distant footsteps echoed down the stone corridor. They were coming fast.

The woman's voice cut through the panic that gripped him. “Take me! You need to take me and run, now!”

Kale stared at the severed head. “Take you? You’re—you're a—”

“Head? Yes, thank you for the observation, genius. Now grab me and run, unless you want to find out what happens when they realize their ritual failed."

The footsteps grew louder, closing in.

Kale hesitated for only a second, every instinct urging him to leave the head and get the hell out of there, but his body moved on its own. He grabbed her by the hair, her head lighter than he expected, and stuffed her under his arm.

“Not like that, you animal! Show some respect!”

The footsteps were getting louder.

“Go!” she yelled.

Kale clutched the glowing blade in one hand, held the severed head under his other arm, and bolted toward the exit of the chamber. His feet pounded against the stone floor, breath heavy and ragged as he sprinted down the dark corridor, the sounds of pursuit growing ever closer behind him.

“What... what is happening?”

"Congratulations," she said. "You’ve just been mistaken for a god, and if you want to live, you’ll start running faster."

***

The hallway was dark, the only light coming from the faint blue glow of the blade in Kale’s hand. Behind them, the distant rumble of crumbling stone echoed, like the dungeon was collapsing around them. Kale’s breath came in heavy gasps, his chest burning with each step. Finally, he skidded to a stop at a dead end. An entire section of the hallway had caved in, blocking their way out.

“We can’t keep running like this forever,” Kale muttered, leaning against the wall for support.

The head, still under his arm, sighed dramatically. “You’ve barely been running for a minute.”

Kale shot her a glare but caught his breath long enough to ask, “So, what were those guys trying to do back there? What’s this ritual?”

“They were trying to summon a god. Xeroth, the Lord of Unraveling, the Silent Rot, the Black Maw.” Her voice turned cold as she listed his titles, each name sending a chill through Kale’s spine.

Kale raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a real friendly guy.”

“Oh, he’s the life of the party. If that party involves death, decay, and the end of all things,”

Kale shifted uncomfortably. “And what was your part in all this?”

“I was... well, am... or, I was a powerful blood mage. So powerful, I gained immortality after years of serving my god. Those cultists used me as a sacrifice, chopped off my head, drained my levels to summon Xeroth. But here’s the kicker: they didn’t know I was immortal.” She gave a cold, bitter laugh. “That’s why my head still lives. But, thanks to their little ritual, I’m back to level one. I’ve gone from powerful mage to... well, this.”

Kale blinked, absorbing the information. “So, you’re telling me that I’ve been lugging around a decapitated immortal with amnesia powers?”

She narrowed her eyes. “How could any of what I just said make you think I have amnesia powers? Did you fall on your head when you were summoned?” She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning Kale’s face. “Since you’re clearly not Xeroth, who are you?”

“I’m Kale.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Like the vegetable?”

Kale shot her an annoyed look. “And what’s your name, then? Something equally clever for a... talking head?”

“It’s Liliana.”

Kale took a moment to consider, hoping to find a witty response, then admitted. “That’s... actually a pretty nice name.”

Liliana rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, that’s what happens when your parents actually like you, they give you a decent name and a fighting chance at a respectable life. Unlike naming your kid Kale.”

“Pretty rude for a talking head whose survival is completely reliant on my goodwill.”

“I am not a talking head. I have a body!”

“Where is it, then?” Kale shrugged. “Because you sure look like a talking head to me.”

“It got destroyed in the ritual.”

“So you’re just a talking head then.”

Liliana glared up at him. “I don’t think we’re going to be friends.”

“Yeah?” Kale said with a chuckle.

The crumbling sound of stones falling behind them cut off their banter. The collapse was getting closer.

Kale readjusted his grip on the blade and Liliana, his eyes scanning for an escape route. “Alright, head. How do we get out of here before the entire place caves in?”

“First of all, don’t call me ‘head.’ Second, we need to find a way around that collapse,” Liliana said, her eyes darting toward a narrow side passage hidden behind a fallen column.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Kale grinned. “Go a-head, lead the way.”

Liliana glared at him as Kale chuckled at his own joke.

***

Just as Kale and Liliana were about to enter the side passage, a hunched-over creature waddled out from the shadows. Its skin looked molten, sagging, bubbling in unnatural ways, and it had the crooked features of a large rat, though its eyes hinted at some intelligence.

“What are you doing here? What is this ruckus?” the rat-man said in a whiny, blubbering voice that grated on Kale’s ears.

Kale stumbled backward, dropping Liliana. “What the—?”

“Do something!” Liliana screamed.

Without thinking, Kale reached down, grabbed Liliana by the hair, and swung her head with all his might. Her skull connected with the rat-man’s crooked nose in a sickening, wet crunch.

The rat-man squealed, clutching his nose, now bent at an even worse angle. “Wehhh!” he whined, rolling onto his back, kicking his tiny feet in the air.

Kale blinked, not quite believing what had just happened. He wasted no time, though, sprinting out of the room and into the side passage.

“What is wrong with you?!” Liliana yelled.

“You said do something!” Kale panted, still sprinting.

“And the first thing you thought of was to use my head as a flail?! I’m a real person! I feel pain, you know!”

Kale grimaced but kept running. “I didn’t have anything else to use!”

“You are holding a dagger, you absolute idiot!”

“Oh... right.” He glanced down at the dagger still clutched tightly in his other hand. “Whoops.”

Liliana growled a deep, frustrated sound that seemed to rattle through his entire body. “If we survive this, I’m going to kill you.”

Kale couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the fear still pounding in his chest. “Gonna be kinda hard without a body, don’t you think?”

“Just wait,” she snapped. “I’ll find a way.”

***

Kale slowed to a stop, leaning against the crumbling stone wall of the dungeon. The air was heavy, and the faint sounds of the dungeon shifting and settling echoed in the distance. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath. They had managed to escape, for now.

They settled into a momentary quiet, after a few seconds, Kale glanced down at Liliana.

“So... what exactly is a blood mage?” he asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him.

“You... you don’t know what a blood mage is?”

Kale shrugged. “I’ve been a little busy lately.”

Liliana stared at him as if trying to decide whether he was serious. “I use blood to fuel my magic. My own, my enemies’, whatever I can get my hands on. The more blood I have, the more powerful my spells. Simple enough for you?”

Kale tilted his head, pondering for a moment. “Are you some kind of vampire?”

Liliana’s face twisted into an expression of sheer annoyance. “Do I look like a vampire?”

“You do have red eyes.”

Liliana let out a long, dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes. “How many vampires have you seen with red eyes?”

Kale scratched his chin, thinking for a moment. “I guess I haven’t seen any vampires at all.”

Liliana stared at him, her lips twitching as if fighting the urge to scream. “I’m starting to think I would have been better off if you’d just left me at the altar. At least then, I wouldn’t have to suffer your stupidity.”

Kale raised an eyebrow. “I can still leave you behind, you know.”

“Mister leafy greens has jokes, I see.”

Kale shrugged.

Liliana grumbled under her breath before fixing him with a more serious look. “What class are you?”

“Uh... I don’t know. Maybe I don’t have one?”

Liliana stared at him, stunned. “That’s impossible.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you just know. Everyone knows what class they are! It’s like breathing; you just do it.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Kale said with a shrug.

Liliana stared at him, incredulous. “How can you not know?”

He shrugged again. “Guess I’m special.”

Liliana let out an exasperated huff. “Fine. Give me some of your blood, and I can tell you what your class is.”

Kale snorted. “See, now you’re definitely starting to sound like a vampire. You sure you’re not one?”

“Did you not listen to me explain that I’m a blood mage? I can read your blood and tell you what class you are.”

Kale sighed. “Alright, alright.” He brought the small dagger up to his finger and pricked it, watching as a drop of blood pooled at the tip. The drop of blood hovered in the air for a moment, as if suspended by an invisible force, before it slowly floated toward Liliana’s head.

Liliana’s eyes glowed a faint red as the blood neared her. She inhaled sharply, as though the blood carried with it some hidden knowledge only she could decipher. The blood shimmered briefly, and then with a soft hum of magic, it vanished into thin air.

Her eyes went wide.

Kale watched Liliana as she processed the results of the blood-reading ritual. Her awe was palpable, but it quickly shifted into something far more skeptical.

“You’re... you’re a bladeweaver,” she said, almost as if she couldn’t believe it. “There are hardly any of your kind left, if any at all. I haven’t seen one in over fifty years.”

“Great!” Kale replied. “…What’s a bladeweaver?”

“The bladeweavers were artists on the battlefield. With a mere thought, they could summon storms of blades, weaving them through the air like threads in a loom of death. Their movements were a like a dance, precise, and terrifyingly beautiful. They weren’t feared for their strength, but for the sheer elegance with which they dismantled their enemies. They say one bladeweaver was worth a thousand soldiers.

Now, their name is little more than a whisper. The bladeweavers are forgotten by most, their legacy buried beneath the sands of time. Of course," she added, smiling faintly, "those are the stories. Who knows what of it is true?”

Kale looked down at the dagger in his hand. “Guess I’m a living legend now.”

Liliana snorted. “A legend? You? Please. You’re about as graceful as a drunk skaarn with four left feet. Let me remind you: you used my head as a weapon. If there’s a bladeweaver council out there, they’re probably weeping right now. Honestly, if they found out about this, they’d revoke your bladeweaver pass before you even got it.”

Kale wanted to ask what a skaarn was, and when exactly he’d get his bladeweaver pass, but Liliana wasn’t finished. “In fact, if I hadn’t seen your blood with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it. But the blood never lies. And somehow, against all odds, it says you’re a bladeweaver.”

Kale shrugged. “Well, I’m currently moving a lot more gracefully than you are.”

Liliana glared at him. “Not by much.”

Kale chuckled, flipping the dagger in his hand, his confidence returning despite her sharp words. “Guess we’ll see.”

Liliana sighed. “You’ve got a gift. I don’t know how or why, but it’s there. If you don’t figure out how to use it, though, it won’t matter. We’ll both be dead.”

Her words settled uneasily in his chest. He nodded slowly. “Fair point...”

***

As they hurried through the crumbling corridors, the stench of decay clung to the air, thick and inescapable, the silence only broken by the echoes of Kale's footsteps.

“We need to find a way out of here,” he said.

“Oh yeah? I was just about to suggest we'd sit down and have a cup of tea.”

For a brief moment, Kale considered dropping her head right there and leaving her behind.

Just as they neared what looked like a collapsed exit, a guttural growl echoed through the corridor. Kale froze. From the shadows, another creature emerged, its form monstrous, unnatural, its flesh rotting, eyes glowing sickly green. The beast was larger than the rat-man they had encountered earlier, and had thick claws, curved, and crusted with filth.

Kale stumbled back. “Not again…”

“Run,” Liliana hissed.

But the creature lunged before they had a chance, closing the distance in a heartbeat. Kale threw himself to the side, barely avoiding the attack as the beast’s claws raked the stone floor, sending shards flying.

“Do something!” Liliana screamed.

Kale’s hands trembled. He tried to steady the dagger, but his mind was blank with fear. “I-I don’t know what to do!”

The creature swung again, and this time its claws found their mark, slashing across Kale’s arm. Pain shot through him, and he fell back, clutching the wound. Blood dripped from his fingers.

As he staggered, a faint whisper echoed in his mind. Pick up the blade...

“What...?” Kale gasped, clutching his arm. The whisper was soft, almost imperceptible, but it was there. He shook his head, trying to focus. The creature was closing in again, and Kale almost managed to dodge another swipe, but the beast’s claws caught his leg, sending him sprawling.

“Get up!” Liliana shouted, but Kale was shaking, his body screaming in pain and his mind clouded with fear.

The whisper came again, this time louder. "Fight..."

“I... I don’t know how!”

The creature loomed over him, its breath rancid and hot, its claws raised for the final strike.

"Fight!"

A surge of energy pulsed through him. The whisper became a voice, firm, commanding. "Feel Aeloria’s might... feel the power of the Blademother..."

Kale’s eyes widened as he felt something shift inside him, an ancient power stirring. His vision blurred, and a blue glow began to flicker in the corners of his sight. The dagger in his hand thrummed with energy, as if it had a life of its own.

The creature charged, snarling, but this time, Kale felt no fear. His body moved on its own, as if guided by an unseen force. He leapt aside, the creature’s claws slicing through empty air, and before he even realized what he was doing, he raised the dagger.

Blue light flared in his eyes, and the whisper became a roar. "Feel the power of the Winged Blade!"

Without thinking, Kale slashed the dagger forward, and from the blade, a dozen ethereal blades erupted, slicing through the creature’s decayed flesh like paper. The beast let out a bone-chilling howl, its movements jerking as its body was ripped apart. It staggered backward, massive limbs trembling, before collapsing in a lifeless heap at Kale’s feet, the ground beneath it darkened by its foul remains.

Kale stood over the fallen creature, exhaustion creeping into every part of his body. Every ache and sting from his wounds seemed to intensify as the adrenaline ebbed away. He stared at the dagger in his hand, its faint glow pulsing softly, unable to fully grasp what he had just done.

The power that had flowed through him moments before—it was like nothing he’d ever felt. He had fought, not out of fear, but with purpose. It had saved him. She had saved him.

Closing his eyes, he whispered, “Thank you.”

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then, a soft, gentle blue light enveloped him, the same light that had flickered through his eyes during the fight. It washed over him, warm and calming, as if his thanks had been heard. His pain eased slightly, the sharp stings of his wounds dulling, his body feeling just a bit lighter.

The glow faded as quickly as it had come, leaving Kale standing there, still battered, but now with a strange sense of peace.

For the first time since he’d met her, Liliana was silent.

Kale swallowed, glancing down at the dagger. “I... I heard a voice. Aeloria... she told me to fight.”

Liliana’s eyes showed something like awe. “Aeloria? You heard Aeloria?”

Kale’s brow furrowed. “Who is she?”

“Aeloria, the Winged Blade, is no ordinary goddess. For many who favor the blade, she is everything, their muse, their guide, their ultimate ideal. Her followers revere her as the Blademother, the embodiment of mastery itself, a divine force who forges warriors into legends. But to her enemies, she is something far more terrifying. They know her as the Angel of Finality, the Goddess of Severance—names spoken in hushed, fearful tones by those who have witnessed her wrath."

"She is not simply the goddess of blades; she is the blade itself: sharp, unyielding, and absolute. Aeloria is the force that carves perfection from chaos, the storm that strips away the weak to reveal the exceptional. She demands more than devotion, requiring perfection, sacrifice, and unwavering discipline."

"Those she blesses are tested without mercy, pushed to their limits and beyond. And those who falter are cast aside, for Aeloria has no patience for weakness and no tolerance for failure. She is a goddess revered by her chosen and feared by all who oppose her.”

Kale stared at the dagger in his hand. “So... I’ve been chosen?”

Liliana nodded slowly. “It seems that way. But don’t let it go to your head, you barely survived that.”

Her words settled over him. Chosen. Bladeweaver. It all felt too surreal, but one thing was clear: whatever had awakened inside him, whatever connection he now had to Aeloria, it had saved his life.

He exhaled and muttered, “Let’s get out of here.” The fatigue pulling at his body, but his resolve burned brighter now.

“You’re the one with legs, so start walking... And next time, maybe tap into your ‘chosen warrior’ powers before we’re scraping ourselves off the floor.”

Kale managed a small smile, despite the pain still gnawing at him. “I’ll work on it.”