The Key

They remained frozen in place as if caught in a silent standoff. The air in the room pulsed with Mana from the sword. The sword itself still floated between them, its tip lowered in a gesture not of threat but of submission.

Larsen now stood the most shaken of all.

His eyes locked onto the weapon he had known his entire life. The ancestral blade of his bloodline, a weapon steeped in high enchantments and bonded to his soul since his coming-of-age trial.

This sword had never left him. Even when dropped or torn from his hand, it returned at a mere thought. When taken by enemies it would lash out violently and slashing without mercy to return to its rightful master.

But now it floated in front of a stranger as if presenting itself.

"This feels like a betrayal," Larsen thougth. The sword had chosen another wielder and he didn't even know why.