Chapter 22: The Broken Oath
The Library of Unsaid Things disappeared behind them like mist retreating from sunlight. As Wale, Chris, and Grey trekked across the scarred plains of Orin, the sky remained heavy, the clouds slow to pass—as though the world still considered what had just been witnessed.
They traveled without speaking. Each of them carried the weight of what they'd seen—Wale especially. The First Lie hadn't simply been a monster; it had been his reflection, the dark filament of his past given breath.
It was evening by the time the trio reached the ruins of Aurel's Gate—once a sanctuary of oaths and divine law, now a place of broken stones and bent truth. Here, long ago, the first warriors of the Oathbound had sworn never to alter fate. It was here Wale had broken his first vow.
"I never thought I'd see this place again," Chris whispered, brushing moss from a toppled stone inscribed with forgotten prayers.
Grey knelt by a shattered column, running a gloved hand across a carved name—Kaelen. "This is where you chose to change your path, isn't it?" he asked Wale. "Where the monster in you was born?"
Wale's gaze was distant. "No. It's where I fed it for the first time."
They set camp among the ruins. Chris built a small fire; Grey cooked roots and salted meat in silence. Wale didn't eat. He wandered through the pillars, his fingers tracing their edges like he hoped they might answer his guilt.
He stopped at a cracked plinth, half-buried in rubble. There, etched in flame-worn stone, was an ancient creed:
"May oath be weight, and word be blade. May what is sworn be stronger than what is feared."
Wale remembered speaking those words once. He remembered meaning them.
He knelt, touching the cold surface. "I broke it. All of it."
A voice answered from behind him—soft, but edged like steel.
"You broke more than words. You broke me."
Wale turned slowly.
She stood in the shadows, framed by the firelight.
Kaelen.
Not alive, not dead. A specter bound in fractured armor, hair drifting like strands of ash. Her eyes glowed with ember-light, and her sword—the Blade of Covenant—was cracked down the center.
Chris stood up fast. "Kaelen? But—you died when—"
"When he rewrote me out of time," Kaelen said, voice calm but bitter. "When he broke our oath to win a war we were already losing."
Grey drew his weapon, uncertain. "Is she real?"
Wale raised a hand. "She's not a memory. She's a consequence."
Kaelen approached slowly, each step silent. "Do you remember what you said to me, Wale? Just before you changed the script?"
Wale didn't answer.
So she answered for him.
"'Trust me. I'll make it right.'"
Wale stood tall. "And I did. I saved thousands. I stopped a war."
"You killed truth," Kaelen snapped. "You made the world believe a lie was justice."
Chris stepped in. "That's not fair. He—"
Kaelen raised her cracked blade. "You weren't there. You didn't see what he did to the weave of time. I did. I was there when the cost came due."
She pointed at Wale. "And now I've come to collect it."
Grey moved to block her, but Wale held out a hand. "No."
His voice was steady. "She's right. I owe her this."
Chris stared at him. "You're not seriously going to—"
"I am."
He stepped forward, drawing the Memory Blade.
Not to rewrite.
To fight.
The duel began in silence.
Wale's blade glowed with stories remembered; Kaelen's pulsed with broken oaths and shattered trust. They met with a clash that echoed through the ruins, dust flying, forgotten names stirring beneath the rubble.
Kaelen fought with fury—no wasted movements, no hesitation. She was not a ghost. She was vengeance made form. Every strike she dealt came with the weight of what was lost, every blow a demand for atonement.
Wale fought with sorrow. He did not seek to win—only to endure, only to prove he had changed. The fire from Chris flickered in the distance. Grey watched, gripping his hilt, but stayed his hand.
This was not their battle.
Blades locked.
Kaelen sneered. "You always did hold back when it mattered."
"I'm not holding back," Wale growled. "I'm choosing restraint."
She pushed off, slashing across his shoulder, drawing blood.
"And what does restraint mean to a man who rewrote a timeline to erase his guilt?"
Wale didn't respond. He pivoted, deflected, stepped inside her guard—and placed the tip of his blade just under her heart.
They froze there.
Silence again.
Kaelen breathed hard, her fire dimming slightly.
"You won't do it," she whispered.
Wale lowered his blade. "No. I won't. Because I already lost you once. I'm not losing you to hatred, too."
She stepped back, shaking, torn between rage and sorrow.
"Then take it," she said bitterly, dropping the shattered Blade of Covenant at his feet. "Take the last piece of your failure."
And she vanished—like smoke scattered by wind.
Chris ran to Wale's side, catching him as he staggered.
Grey retrieved the broken blade. "What do we do with this?"
Wale stared at it, tears barely held back. "We carry it."
Chris looked up at him. "What now?"
Wale turned toward the darkening horizon, where the next shadow stirred.
"Now we find the next one I wronged," he said. "Because this is what redemption costs."