The forest held its breath.

Not a single leaf rustled. Not a bird sang. Even the wind seemed to recoil from the clearing where Eren stood Akreth resting against his shoulder, its obsidian blade faintly pulsing with an unnatural red glow. The silence wasn’t peace. It was anticipation.

Elira stood a few steps away, draped in her white cloak like a ghost of the forest. Her eyes, usually gentle, now brimmed with something else worry? Or fear?

“You said you wouldn’t draw it,” she murmured, almost too quiet to hear.

Eren didn’t look at her. His eyes were fixed on the sword.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said. “But it called to me.”

“Everything in this world calls to something,” she replied. “But you answered.”

His grip tightened. “I thought I could resist. Thought I was stronger than the whispers.”

“Akreth doesn’t whisper,” Elira said, stepping forward. “It binds. And once you take its hand, it never lets go.”

He finally looked up. “You knew this would happen.”

“I hoped it wouldn’t.”

“And now?” he asked.

Her gaze softened. “Now the world begins to shift.”

The runes etched into Akreth’s blade flickered faintly, like veins under skin. Eren felt the thrum deep in his bones, as though something ancient was waking inside him.

He wanted to drop it. To throw it away, bury it under a thousand miles of rock. But he couldn’t. His fingers wouldn't obey. His soul had already been pierced.

“Elira,” he asked, voice raw, “what is this sword?”

She hesitated for a long moment, then sat cross-legged on the moss. “There are many stories about the Black Blade. Some say it was forged in the blood of a fallen god. Others say it’s not a blade at all, but a curse given form. But one thing is known Akreth chooses its bearer.”

Eren knelt across from her. “And it chose me.”

She nodded. “Not for who you are… but for who you must become.”

He frowned. “You speak in riddles.”

“No,” she said. “I speak in warnings. Because once the blade binds itself to your soul, your path narrows. Every choice you make feeds it. Every life you take, every bond you sever Akreth grows stronger.”

A chill crawled down his spine.
“Then why let me draw it?”

“Because fate doesn’t ask for permission,” she replied, her voice suddenly sharp. “It only waits for the right moment to open its jaws.”

They sat in silence for a while, the weight of her words hanging between them.

Then, as the last light of dusk dipped beneath the treetops, Elira spoke again.

“There are three names etched into Akreth’s soul,” she said. “Three destinies. One to wield it. One to seal it. And one to destroy it.”

Eren’s breath caught. “And my name?”

“It’s the name of the Wielder.”

He felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs. “So I’m meant to what conquer the world with this thing?”

“No,” she said. “You’re meant to survive it. To carry it. To bear the weight of its sins.”

The pulsing of the blade grew stronger, as if affirming her words.

“But why me?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she turned toward the trees.

And in the next breath, the ground trembled.

A low, guttural sound rippled through the forest like a heartbeat too loud, too ancient. Trees groaned. Shadows lengthened.

Then came the howl.

It tore through the night like a claw through silk, deep and feral. Eren stood, blade raised instinctively. Elira stayed where she was.

“They’ve felt it,” she said.

“Who?”

“The Woken Beasts,” she replied. “They guard the edges of the seal. Or they did. Now, with Akreth awake… they’ll come to end its bearer.”

He stepped forward, heart racing. “Then I’ll fight.”

Elira finally looked up at him, eyes dark with something unreadable.
“No, Eren. You’ll endure.”