Fated Weapon

Nyxara's steps were light against the polished marble as she led Lira through a winding hallway of silver and sapphire stone. They passed tall arches carved with ancient runes and walls that shimmered faintly with locked enchantments older than empires.

Then they stopped at a set of wide double doors—simple, dark, unassuming.

Nyxara pressed a hand to them.

The doors didn't creak.

They breathed open—like something living had just exhaled.

Inside, a vast armoury unfolded, lit by floating lanterns of frozen fire. The walls were lined with weapons—racks and pedestals and suspended displays that glimmered with every kind of armament imaginable.

Short swords, twin daggers, spiked fans. Warhammers made of glacial stone. A whip of lightning held in stasis. An elegant spear forged from what looked like living bone. A golden bow humming with soft notes of music.

Even stranger things, too—like a flute resting in a glass case, or a ring etched with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.

Lira's breath caught.

"This… is incredible."

Nyxara stepped beside her, hands folded behind her back.

"This armoury is special," she said. "Many thousands of years ago, in a world much like this one, there was no magic. Just spiritual energy. I ran a sect back then—a sanctuary for misfits, seekers, strays."

She smiled faintly, something old in her expression.

"Most of my disciples started just like you. Not overly strong. Not overly gifted. But hungry. Curious. Willing to try."

Lira swallowed, her eyes wide as they moved slowly through the space.

Nyxara stopped her with a gentle hand.

"You don't need to pick."

She gestured to the center of the room, where a single round platform glowed softly.

"Sit. Close your eyes. Cross your legs in lotus position."

Lira hesitated, then obeyed, settling into place, hands resting lightly on her knees.

Nyxara's voice dropped to a near-whisper.

"Clear your thoughts. Breathe slowly. Reach out—not with your mind, but with your spirit."

Lira frowned slightly but said nothing.

"Your fated weapon will find you," Nyxara said. "And when it does—you'll know."

Then she stepped back.

And waited.

The room quieted.

The lanterns flickered low.

Lira exhaled.

And reached inward.

She sat with trembling hands resting lightly on her knees.

The stone beneath her was warm—not hot, not cold, but steady. Calming. As if it pulsed in rhythm with her breath.

The room was silent, yet not silent. She could feel something moving around her—like unseen threads tugging softly at her skin. It wasn't threatening. It was… curious.

Like the Armoury was watching.

She inhaled slowly, then exhaled, just as Nyxara had said.

And when she cleared her thoughts—

The darkness came.

But not empty darkness. Full.

A deep, warm space that seemed to listen.

Then—

She saw herself.

Older. Taller. Stronger.

Her posture was effortless. Her shoulders straight. Her lips pulled into a quiet, confident smile.

And in her hands—

A bow. Golden, glowing, strung with a faint ribbon of sunlight itself.

She watched her other self draw it back. The energy crackled like dawn breaking open. Power surged from every limb. Not violent.

Righteous.

And in that moment, one word, one name, echoed through her soul—

"Bow of Radiant Dawn."

Like she'd always known it.

Like it had always been hers.

Her eyes snapped open.

She gasped.

Floating just inches in front of her, pulsing with golden light, was the bow. Its limbs curved gracefully outward in orange-red arcs like flame held in divine balance. Runes shimmered across its spine, moving like living poetry.

Lira didn't speak.

Couldn't.

Nyxara stepped forward slowly, her voice soft—more reverent than amused.

"Ah…" she said, watching with something like pride. "So you have finally found your partner."

Lira raised one hand—unconsciously—fingers trembling as she reached toward it.

But the bow didn't wait.

It flared brighter—

Then condensed into pure golden light, and shot forward—

Straight into her chest.

Lira gasped, arching back as the energy sank into her, spreading through every nerve, every vessel. Not burning.

Awakening.

The light pulsed once more—then vanished.

She collapsed forward to her knees, breathing hard, eyes wide.

Her heart raced. Her skin tingled. She could still feel the bow in her chest, like an extension of herself.

And deep inside, a quiet voice whispered again:

"Radiant Dawn."

Nyxara smiled.

And for the first time since arriving in Skyreach—

Lira smiled back.

Still on her knees, Lira clutched her chest, her breath shaky but even. The warmth of the bow still hummed beneath her skin, like an ember nestled against her heart.

She looked up.

Nyxara stood over her, arms crossed, that knowing, content smile softening her otherwise imperious expression.

"I'm happy," Nyxara said quietly. "You finally found each other."

Lira blinked. "Each… other?"

Nyxara nodded. "The Bow of Radiant Dawn has waited for you longer than you've been alive. It's not just a weapon. It's a bond. A reflection of who you're meant to become."

Lira's hands trembled in her lap. "I… I have so many questions."

"You will," Nyxara replied, her tone gentle. "And answers will come. Just know this: the bow will grow with you. As you change—so will it."

She turned slightly, gazing at the weapons lining the walls.

"But right now, you're not strong enough to wield it in the world. You can't manifest it yet. That light inside you is still forming its roots."

Lira nodded slowly, swallowing.

Nyxara's eyes returned to hers, steady and proud. "That's why your training will be different. Separate."

"The others," she said, a flicker of steel entering her tone, "already have strength. Power. Discipline. But you… you are becoming."

She walked a slow circle around Lira as she spoke, her voice taking on its teacher's cadence once again.

"From now on, you will spend half of each day in meditation. Absorbing the spiritual energy that lives in this place. Let it shape you, fill you. Understand it."

"And the other half?" Lira asked quietly.

Nyxara smiled again, softer this time.

"You'll practice. With a regular bow."

She gestured to a modest rack in the corner—a set of simple, well-made training bows of different sizes and styles.

"Your body must learn before your soul commands."

Lira looked toward the rack, then back at Nyxara, her voice still quiet but sure:

"I understand."

Nyxara leaned forward and gently pressed two fingers to Lira's forehead.