Chapter 25
Star Above
The Skathrith hangs above me, a second more ethereal sun, sheathed in curtains of folded space.
Its presence is an intangible weight against my mind. Each pulse of light matches the rhythm in my chest, creating patterns that illuminate nothing but itself. The bond thrums between us.
Raw. Electric.
I shift upon the cold floor, my muscles protesting. The cut on my shoulder and side sting. The distant point of light follows my movement, adjusting its position with liquid grace. Through our connection, I sense its eagerness—an ancient hunger tempered by centuries of purpose.
A soft drip echoes through the cube-shaped chamber.
Red liquid seeps from a crack in the wall, viscous and dark. The sight of it triggers something in the Skathrith—a ripple of recognition that floods through our bond. The distant light gleams brighter, its hum dropping to a lower pitch.
I glance above me.
Then, unbidden, a shift—an alien awareness curves patterns onto the inside of my forehead. Pinpricks of light blinks out, replaced by something fractured and flickering. Shapes resolve into lines of jagged glyphs that burn faintly against the darkness.
Name: Skathrith.
Designation: Bound Construct.
Status: Bonded (Incomplete).
Synchronization: 14% (Minimal Harmony).
Abilities:
<ul>
<li>
Kinetic Transference: ACTIVE.
</li>
<li>
Ethereal Edge: LOCKED.
</li>
<li>
Spatial Lattice: LOCKED.
</li>
<li>
Symbiotic Maneuvering: EMERGING.
</li>
<li>
Directive Core: Adapt. Protect. Evolve.
</li>
</ul>
I lower my gaze, gripping my temples as the scribbles fade, leaving me with nothing but the Blade’s unrelenting hum. The words Incomplete and Minimal Harmony linger like echoes, digging into my thoughts. The Skathrith is not just a weapon—it’s something alive. Something ... evolving.
Time presses against me.
The growing pool of red speaks of urgency, but rushing forward without understanding this weapon would be foolish.
I reach toward the hovering light, fingers spread wide.
The Skathrith pulses above me, its song growing stronger, yet remains frustratingly distant. My jaw clenches as I focus harder, trying to grasp what feels like smoke.
"Come to me." The words escape through gritted teeth.
The light flickers, dims, then brightens—but refuses to take solid form. Sweat beads on my forehead as I strain against whatever barrier keeps the Blade from manifesting.
I drop my hand, chest heaving. Mother''s voice echoes in my thoughts:
"Power flows from truth, not force."
Drawing a deep breath, I close my eyes and reach out again, this time trying to channel the same connection I felt during our initial bonding. The Skathrith''s hum changes pitch, resonating with something deep in my chest, but still it refuses to materialize.
A whisper of movement draws my attention.
Binah stands at the edge of the shadows, her pale form untouched by the Blade''s glow. She watches me with those impossible violet eyes, head tilted in that unnervingly bird-like way.
Her hand rises to her chest, pressing her fist against her heart. The gesture is deliberate, meaningful. She extends her arm outward, fingers unfurling like petals, as if releasing something into the air.
Feel it, don''t force it.
The message is clear in her movements, even without words. The Skathrith''s song shifts again, harmonizing with her gesture, as if confirming her silent instruction.
I lower my hand, frustration warring with understanding.
The Blade is not some tool to be commanded—it is a presence seeking resonance, waiting for me to match its frequency rather than bend it to my will. The frustration builds in my chest, a familiar heat that wants to burst free.
I clench my fists, embracing the sensation rather than fighting it—and something changes.
A tingling spreads across my fingers, sharp and electric. The sensation crawls up my skin like frost forming on glass. I raise my hand, watching as a faint shimmer traces the edges of my fingers, catching the Skathrith''s light in impossible angles.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
A crack echoes through the chamber. My gaze snaps upward as a piece of stone breaks free from the ceiling, tumbling through the air. Without thinking, I slash my hand through empty space.
The motion feels different—precise, deadly. My arm moves as if guided by an unseen force, following a path I never chose. The falling stone splits cleanly in two, its halves clattering to the ground on either side of me.
I stare at my hand. The shimmer persists, transforming my flesh into something other. Not a weapon, exactly, but a conduit. The Skathrith''s song shifts, a note of approval threading through its constant hum.
Understanding floods through me. The Blade will not manifest—not yet—but it offers its essence, lending its power to my own form. I flex my fingers, feeling the strange marriage of flesh and energy, the way it changes how I move through space itself.
Binah nods, a slight tilt of her head that speaks volumes.
She extends her own hand, mimicking my gesture, though no power flows through her ethereal form. Her meaning is clear: this is the first step, the beginning of understanding what the Skathrith truly offers.
The second chunk of stone rips free with a grinding shriek. Binah''s hands dance through the air, her fingers plucking invisible strings. The jagged shard hurtles toward my face.
I slash upward, the Skathrith''s power coursing through my arm. The strike goes too deep, embedding my hand in the rock. Pain jolts through my wrist as I wrench free, barely dodging the next projectile.
More stones tear loose from the walls, a deadly constellation orbiting Binah''s graceful form. She launches them in rapid succession. My movements are rough, uncoordinated. A sharp edge catches my shoulder as I stumble backward.
The Blade''s song pulses with disappointment. My strikes are wild—either cleaving too forcefully through the stones or passing harmlessly through air.
Sweat stings my eyes.
I struggle to match the weapon''s rhythm.
Binah pauses, lowering her hands. She moves forward, her form flowing like water. She mimes a slow, elegant arc through the air. The motion reminds me of mother''s lessons in Ath''rihn—the way air flows around obstacles rather than crashing through them.
I close my eyes, letting the Skathrith''s hum fill my awareness.
Its song shifts, aligning with my breath.
The power flowing through my arms no longer feels foreign, but like an extension of my own pulse.
The whisper of moving stone reaches my ears.
I open my eyes to see another barrage of shards racing toward me. This time, I do not fight the Blade''s influence. My body flows through familiar Ath''rihn forms—Wave of Stillness becoming Blade of the Wind. Each strike is measured, precise. The stones split cleanly, their halves falling harmlessly around me.
Binah''s assault continues, but now I move with purpose. The Skathrith''s power responds to my intentions rather than my force. Where before I struggled, now I dance between the deadly projectiles, each cut exactly as deep as needed.
Confidence surges through me as the stones shatter with each precise strike. The Skathrith''s power flows naturally now, an extension of my will rather than a foreign force to be mastered.
A massive shard of obsidian breaks free from the wall, its surface drinking in what little light reaches it. The sight of it quickens my pulse—a true test of this newfound harmony.
I draw my arm back, channeling the Blade''s energy through my flesh. The familiar tingle spreads across my skin. I step forward, driving my hand toward the approaching darkness.
The strike begins perfectly, my fingers trailing silver light—then nothing.
The power vanishes mid-swing, leaving only vulnerable flesh to meet unyielding stone. Pain explodes across my forearm as the obsidian shard tears past, opening a thin line of crimson.
Binah''s hand cuts through the air like a knife, halting the remaining stones in their orbital dance. Her pale form glides closer, movements sharp with displeasure. She taps her temple with two fingers, then presses her hand against her chest. The gesture repeats, more emphatic this time.
Mind and heart as one.
I steady my breathing, trying to recenter myself. The cut stings, a reminder of hubris. The Skathrith''s song shifts, dropping to a deeper register that vibrates through my bones. Something about the tone feels... wrong. Hungry. Like the weapon is savoring the scent of fresh blood.
I shake my head, pushing away the unsettling thought.
Focus. Control.
The power is mine to direct, not the other way around.
The obsidian shard crashes into the wall behind me, sending smaller fragments scattering across the floor. I shift my weight, preparing for Binah''s next assault. Her fingers dance through empty air, and three more stones break free from the ceiling.
They spiral toward me in a deadly arc. I step back, channeling the Skathrith''s power through my arms once more. The first two stones split cleanly—but the third curves unexpectedly, forcing me to dodge.
I push off the ground, intending a quick sidestep. Instead, my body launches upward with impossible grace. The stone whistles past beneath me as I float through the air, suspended for a heartbeat longer than gravity should allow. My movements mirror the Skathrith''s ethereal dance, as if its power has seeped into my very muscles.
The sensation is intoxicating—a weightless moment where flesh and energy blur into something new. But the landing catches me off guard. My feet touch down at an awkward angle, and I stumble forward, barely catching my balance.
My heart pounds against my ribs, equal parts shock and excitement coursing through my veins. This is more than just the ability to cut—the Blade''s influence extends to movement itself, offering glimpses of what it means to truly dance with death.
I look to Binah, searching for confirmation.
She stands motionless, head tilted slightly. A faint nod—barely more than a whisper of movement—acknowledges what just happened. Her violet eyes gleam with something that might be satisfaction.
The Skathrith''s song shifts, harmonizing with my quickened pulse. That impossible leap was just the beginning, a taste of what our bond might become.
I shake my head, freeing myself from the nascent longing.
The red liquid draws my attention, its surface twisting in ways that defy natural movement. Each ripple catches the Skathrith''s light, creating patterns that seem to writhe with purpose.
The crack itself pulses, as if breathing.
The Blade''s song changes pitch, filling the chamber with a resonance that makes my jaw clench. My teeth vibrate with each pulse, and something deep in my chest responds to the frequency. The sensation is not painful, exactly, but it sets every nerve on edge—like the moment before lightning strikes.
I take a step toward the seeping liquid, then pause. The Skathrith''s hum sharpens further, becoming almost predatory. Through our bond, I sense its recognition... or is it anticipation? The distinction blurs as the weapon''s hunger bleeds into my own awareness.
My gaze shifts to Binah.
Her pale form moves through the shadows with liquid grace, closing the distance between us. The weight of her hand settles on my shoulder—solid, real, grounding. The touch carries meaning beyond words: confidence, preparation, readiness.
I draw in a deep breath, letting it fill my lungs completely.
The air tastes metallic, charged with potential.
As I exhale, I force my muscles to relax, embracing whatever comes next.
I kneel before the crack, studying the red liquid''s unnatural movement. Something about it calls to both me and the Blade—a resonance that makes my skin prickle. Drawing in a steadying breath, I extend my hand and dip my fingers into the viscous pool.
The liquid surges upward instantly, defying gravity to wrap around my flesh like living flame. Heat floods through my arm, not burning but transforming, as if the substance seeks to remake me from the inside out. The sensation shoots straight to my core, igniting something primal and hungry.
I shatter—I scream.