Darian stood amidst the quiet wilderness, Twilightfang still humming faintly in his grasp. The connection between them felt surreal—like a bond etched into his very soul, rather than one formed by mere possession. He swung the blade once more, the air parting effortlessly before its edge. It felt natural in his hand, as if it had always belonged to him. And yet, he couldn't shake the unease settling in his chest.
He exhaled sharply, staring at the sword. "This is insane… I barely touched it, and now it won't let go of me?" He tightened his grip, feeling the strange warmth that pulsed through the hilt. "Just who were you hiding from?" he muttered, recalling the woman who had left the blade behind.
The mysterious woman—would she return? And what of those who hunted her? Whoever they were, they would not stop. If Twilightfang was valuable enough to be sealed away, then wielding it had surely placed a target on his back. Yet, the idea of simply abandoning the weapon was unbearable. The bond had been forged, whether by fate or accident, and now the sword felt like an extension of his very being.
With a quiet sigh, Darian sheathed Twilightfang. "Well, nothing I can do about it now." He glanced at the fading sky. "Might as well head back before someone starts asking questions."
---
The path back to the castle wound through rolling hills, their crests bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. Tall pines lined the dirt road, their whispering needles swaying gently in the evening breeze. The scent of damp earth and fresh foliage filled the air, carrying with it the distant chirping of crickets and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures moving through the underbrush.
A stream meandered alongside the road, its waters reflecting the dying light in scattered flecks of gold. Darian paused for a moment by its edge, gazing into the rippling surface. His reflection stared back, but something about it felt... different.
"Am I imagining things, or do I feel… stronger?" He shook his head. "No, not stronger. Just… different."
He touched the hilt of Twilightfang at his side. "This sword… It's more than just a weapon, isn't it?" The thought unsettled him. Weapons were meant to be wielded, but this one—it felt like it had a will of its own.
As the castle walls loomed in the distance, he knew one thing for certain—his path had changed. Twilightfang had not simply fallen into his hands. It had now chosen him. And with that choice came consequences he had yet to understand.
For now, he would return. But something told him that this was only the beginning
******
Darian was a few miles from the castle when he came to an abrupt stop. He stood at the edge of a hill, looking down at the familiar path that would lead him straight into the royal gates. The weight of Twilightfang at his side suddenly felt too much to bear. "I can't go in with this," he muttered to himself, glancing at the sword. "It'll draw too much attention, and the last thing I need right now is to explain this."
He hesitated for a moment longer, then took a step forward. But something changed. The sword, which had been so steadfast in its presence at his side, suddenly seemed to vanish. One moment it was there, and the next, it was gone.
Darian froze, startled. "What in the world…" He quickly checked his belt, only to find that Twilightfang had completely disappeared. He felt a strange emptiness, as though it had never been there at all.
Then, just as he was about to speak again, a faint, sharp sting pricked his hand. Looking down, he saw a mark—like a small, glowing sword-shaped symbol—on his palm. It wasn't painful, but the sensation was unnerving. Without thinking, he stroked the mark absentmindedly with his other hand. "What the hell is going on?" he muttered under his breath.
As if in response to his thoughts, the sword reappeared at his side with a soft shimmer. The hilt reformed in his grasp, materializing as if it had always been there, its presence now even more undeniable than before.
Darian stared at the blade, eyes wide. "Well, that's new," he murmured, trying to make sense of it all. "I didn't even summon it, it just… came back." He glanced down at the mark again, now fading into his skin. It felt… personal. And just as he thought that, the sword settled back against him, as if it had never left.
A pleased expression spread across his face. "Guess that solves that problem."
With newfound resolve, Darian continued down the path toward the castle, the weight of the sword now feeling oddly comforting. Whatever this bond was, it seemed he had little choice but to accept it. And maybe, just maybe, it would be more of a blessing than a curse.