Chapter 6: The Beckoning

The air grew colder as I began making my way down the stone steps. Some of them crumbled under my boots as I followed the cascading spiral stairs down into the darkness. Right now would be a great time for a flashlight. As I got deeper into the stairwell the darker it got. By halfway through I was clutching the walls attempting to feel my way down the the next step. No way in hell this is the way to any exit unless it was some underground tunnel system. Not that it would be any use to me in the pitch black. I was about to turn around and head back up when a flicker of light catches the corner of my eye. An oil lamp? It piques my curiosity enough to continue down the stairs towards the light source. When I finally make it down all the steps I'm met with a small room. The walls are unfinished and made from dried mud. A singular cell sits at the back of it. The iron bars heavily rusted from years of moisture this deep under the earth.

I advance towards the cell. The oil lamp sits in a dug out shelf in the dirt wall. The ominous light flickers against my face. The fact that someone surely had have been down here not long before me dawns upon me. Chills rise up my back as I look over my shoulder, spooking myself. The stairwell was far too narrow, I would have had to have squeezed past anyone else if they happened to cross my path. So, that only leaves the option of them being here in this room right now. I grapple the sword under my cloak tightly, my fingers trembling as I cautiously scan the room not wanting to see anything unordinary. Nothing. I sigh in relief.

"Darwin Bright." A voice whispers softly. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. I rapidly twirl around almost tripping looking for the source.

"Darwin Bright, be not afraid."

The disorienting voice, unidentifiable by any trait seems to be coming from the darkest corner of the cell on the other side of the bars. The putrid scent of mold lingers as my senses heighten. Even the drips of water begin to set me off.

"W-Who are you?" I stammer, attempting to act brave, the hilt of my sword peaking out from my cloak.

"See me, Darwin Bright and you will be most powerful."

I freeze in place, pacing backwards as my trembling fingers fumble with the handle to the oil lamp. I hesitantly walk forward towards the voice, almost unwilling to see what lingers in the darkness. The light from the lantern hits something that glistens in a deep purple. I scowl, my interest growing as I approach. I gasp in shock and almost drop the lantern as I jump back.

"See me, Darwin Bright and you will be most powerful." The voice repeats.

It takes everything in me to shine the light back on the sight. A skeleton with a sword embedded deep in its ribcage. It looks as if the ribcage has grown to intertwine around the sword which still gleams in purple. Most powerful? I assume it wants me to take the sword. I grab the cell door bars and yank. To my surprise it jostles open with a bit of effort. I check over my shoulder and advance into the cell, dropping the training sword to wrap both of my hands around the leather hilt of the mystery sword. Instantly I can feel a strong pressure exerting from the weapon, the hilt on my skill even reeks of the highest quality material compared to the training sword. I give it a yank. With a few snaps and cracks it loosens from the skeleton. It's ridiculously heavy.

I drag it out of the cell and into the center of the room to examine it in better light. It looks ancient, deep scratches in parts of the blade yet it still appears to be in prime condition. Delicate runes carved in the shape of eyes decorate the guard.

"Offer me something of yours, Darwin Bright and you will be most powerful." The voice echoes around my head. I peer down at my reflection on the blade. Nothing I'm wearing is mine, the sword isn't even mine. Then I think back to all the video games and movies I've watched in the past and it became apparent. Pays off to have been a bit of a nerd.

I take the sword in my one hand and press it against my palm before slicing it. The blade cut effortlessly and the sting of pain races through my palm. I grit my teeth and squeeze the blood onto the the blade. The crimson drops of blood spatter across the blade before glowing a bright white. I feel an overwhelming burning pain in my hand and let out a silent cry. I clutch it to my chest and stagger backwards as it becomes blinding. The entire blade begins to glow as my pain intensifies and leaks through my veins like a poison. I crumple to the floor writhing in pain, this is far worse than being hit by any truck.

"You will be most powerful, Darwin Bright." The voice says for a final time before the glowing and pain stops. I slowly come to my senses, propping myself up against the wall. I turn my once burning palm to check my injury but in the place of the gash is a marking. It looks identical to the eye on the sword. I try rubbing it off but it almost seems like a surreal tattoo. My gaze wanders from my hand over to the blade which sits idly on the floor. I shuffle over and grab its handle. It feels ten times lighter. Is this what Garth meant by weapon bonding? I pick myself up and tuck the sword under my cloak. I should probably head upstairs before someone notices my absence.