The Awakening Flame
Aina's fingers twitched as she stared at the golden blade, still embedded in the stone. Though it had rejected her, she could feel a connection—a whisper in the depths of her soul, urging her forward.
Azriel placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're still alive. That's more than what most could say after touching a relic like that."
Tok Rimau huffed. "Tch. That just means we need to forge you into someone worthy of wielding it." His eyes gleamed with determination. "And we don't have time to waste."
The Nameless King chuckled under his breath. "Indeed. The blade is not just an object—it is a will, a force bound by the echoes of warriors past. It will not be claimed by mere desire. Only through trial and fire can one prove their worth."
As if on cue, the walls of the chamber trembled. A deep rumbling echoed from the depths of the cavern.
Aina turned sharply. "What was that?"
Azriel's eyes darted around the room, scanning for danger. "I don't think we're alone."
The Nameless King remained still, watching. His golden mask reflected the flickering flames, giving him an air of quiet amusement. "You are correct." He lifted his arm and snapped his fingers.
A pulse of golden light erupted from his fingertips, illuminating the chamber. The moment the light touched the shadows, they moved.
Aina's breath hitched as dark figures slithered from the cracks in the stone—humanoid, yet monstrous. Their bodies flickered like dying embers, shifting between forms. The only thing consistent was the hunger in their soulless eyes.
"The Guardians of the Blade," the Nameless King announced. "They are remnants of those who failed the trial. Trapped in eternal servitude."
One of the creatures lunged.
Aina barely had time to react before Tok Rimau intercepted, his Parang Seligi flashing in the dim light. Sparks flew as his blade clashed against the creature's ethereal form.
"Stop gawking and fight, girl!" Tok Rimau barked. "You want to be worthy? Prove it!"
Aina clenched her jaw. Her heart pounded. This was it—her first test since touching the blade.
With a swift motion, she unsheathed her Kerambit Bulan, the crescent-shaped dagger gleaming as it caught the firelight. The weapon felt warm in her grasp, as if sensing her resolve.
The creatures hissed and lunged.
Aina moved.
She ducked low, twisting her body as she evaded a clawed swipe. With a precise flick of her wrist, her kerambit slashed through one of the creatures, its form dispersing like smoke.
Azriel was beside her in an instant, muttering incantations under his breath. His fingers traced glowing sigils in the air, and a pulse of blue energy shot forward, pushing back the shadows.
Tok Rimau, ever the relentless warrior, carved a path through their enemies, his blade a whirlwind of destruction.
But the creatures kept coming.
Aina's muscles burned. Sweat dripped down her brow. Every strike demanded more from her—her stamina, her will, her very essence.
And then, in the midst of the chaos, she felt it.
A spark.
Deep within her, something stirred—something ancient.
The whispers returned, louder this time. The air around her pulsed with unseen energy.
Then, her vision burned gold.
The Kerambit Bulan in her grasp trembled, its form shifting. The blade glowed, changing shape before her very eyes. The warmth she had felt earlier ignited into fire.
Tok Rimau's eyes widened. "The blade—"
Azriel's breath hitched. "She's—"
Aina didn't hesitate.
With a fierce cry, she struck. The flames coursing through her weapon engulfed the battlefield, consuming the darkness. The creatures let out shrieks of agony as the purifying fire tore through them.
The Nameless King watched in silence.
When the flames finally died down, only Aina remained standing, her kerambit still burning in her grasp. Her breathing was ragged, her limbs shaking.
Tok Rimau was the first to break the silence.
"Well." He exhaled sharply. "Looks like you just might be worthy after all."
Aina tightened her grip.
She could still feel it—that spark inside her, waiting to be unleashed.
This was just the beginning.