Three days had passed since Aeren silenced the scout. Kaelmoor no longer whispered—they watched. Eyes filled with fear, awe, and something darker: reverence.
Aeren didn't ask for followers. But the village's outcasts and misfits—those who never heard their own Fatesong—began gathering around him. One boy with a cracked voice. A girl whose song only brought pain. Broken notes, all of them. And now, drawn to the only one who had turned silence into strength.
He trained alone in the Ashwood clearing, where the old roots twisted like petrified bones. The Dissonant Blade pulsed with each movement, disrupting the air, making birds flee and the trees tremble. But it still felt unwieldy. Aeren wasn't a warrior—yet.
The Codex spoke again that night.
> "Calibration required. Harmonics incomplete. Assimilate dissonant cores."
"What does that even mean?" Aeren muttered.
> "You must devour. You must grow."
He didn't sleep.
---
Far across the plains of Dareth, a golden airship hovered over the Sanctum City of Altheris. Inside its crystal chamber, five armored warriors knelt before Veylor. Their armor shimmered with radiant etchings, and from their backs hung banners bearing musical runes.
These were the Choral Blades—elite enforcers of divine harmony. Each one chosen for their perfect Fatesong, trained to enforce the sanctity of the weave.
"You are to locate and retrieve the source of the Dissonance," Veylor instructed. "Alive if possible. Silenced if necessary."
One of them, a woman with silver hair and crimson markings on her throat, stepped forward.
"If it is the Codex… shall we not destroy it outright?"
Veylor's eyes narrowed.
"No. We must understand it. Then erase it."
---
The next morning, Kaelmoor awoke to fire.
The Choral Blades descended from the sky like falling stars, their songs shattering the clouds. The village's defenses—if they could be called that—crumbled in seconds. A harmonized barrier enclosed the perimeter. No one would escape.
Aeren stood at the edge of the village square, surrounded by frightened faces.
"Run," he said.
"But—"
"RUN!"
The villagers scattered.
The first Choral Blade landed like a thunderclap, his blade made of vibrating light.
"You are the bearer of the Codex," he intoned. "By divine decree, you will be unmade."
Aeren raised the Dissonant Blade. It hissed.
Then the symphony began.