Chapter 10 · free to read
Three hundred swordsmen died here in one night, and nobody ever came back for the steel. The ash under my ribs sang the whole way down.
It was not the swallowing that changed everything. It was what came UP with it.
The blade remembered its last duel. Devouring it, so did I.
Every grave has a keeper. This one had three hundred of them, and they remembered dying.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.