Chapter 4: Shadow of Will

The fog cloaked the Eastern Forest like a silent veil… No birds sang, no breeze stirred. The trees here were taller and older than those they had known deep within Valmair, as if they bore witness to a forgotten era etched into every stone and trunk.

Jyn stepped cautiously, his eyes scanning every detail. Since approaching the forest's edge, he felt something strange… as if the piece of Elthan he carried trembled lightly, as if remembering.

"Feels heavy here… do you sense it?" Rock whispered.

Jyn remained silent for a moment, then replied, "The shard… it's reacting. We're close."

Behind them, Sera gripped her dagger tightly, her eyes probing the shadows between the trees. "This isn't just the tightness of the place—someone's watching us," she murmured, tightening her hold.

But Jyn pressed on, quickening his pace toward a hidden hill among the thick oak trunks. There stood a stone temple buried beneath the earth, visible only to those who knew what to seek. Its ancient symbols were almost erased, yet resembled the carvings on the first sword shard.

"This is it… the next memory lies here," Jyn said as he bent toward the stone door.

Before he could touch it, a voice echoed from the shadows: "Step back—this place wasn't made for the likes of you!"

Three masked men appeared, bearing black symbols on their chests resembling a distorted flame.

"Laryn Thayler has been dead for ages… but she was no hero. She was a traitor. We've sworn to bury her legacy forever," the tallest said.

Shock flashed on Sera's face, while Jyn gripped his sword's hilt and muttered to himself.

The masked man raised his hand, sparks of gray ash crackling around it. "Whoever steps toward this temple will have their will stolen," he warned, his voice like a grave whisper.

Jyn stepped forward.

"Steal our will? I've lost much already. My will is the one thing you'll never have."

The first guard attacked, his long sword descending like a falling star. Jyn bent quickly, spinning like a whirlwind, striking with his broken blade. The two steel edges clashed, and something strange happened…

The first shard of Elthan glowed a deep blue, its edges trembling. Around Jyn, a metallic shimmer rose like a ghost protecting him!

"Jyn! That aura—it's reacting!" Rock shouted from behind.

"Not an aura. A memory," Jyn answered steadily, parrying the next strikes.

With each blow, his body moved to a new rhythm, as if dancing to an ancient beat stored within the sword's fragments. Dodging the second attack, he struck swiftly, hitting the guard's side and sending him sprawling.

The other two guards exchanged sharp glances and leapt simultaneously—but Jyn was not alone.

Rock swung his double-edged axe, blocking blows with the weight of mountains. Sera moved like a cat through shadows, stabbing the second from the flank.

In moments, silence fell.

The three lay exhausted on the ground.

Then the stone door breathed a strange sound and slowly began to move, revealing a dark stairway leading downward.

"Laryn Thayler… who was she? Why is her will buried here?" Jyn asked as he stepped forward.

Sera's face tightened. "Her name is not unknown in Valmair's history… but her story remains hidden. Perhaps the second shard will tell it."

When King Ragnar fell in the Battle of the Grey Valley, the sword slipped from his grasp… until his adopted daughter, Laryn, caught it.

The sword would obey no one—but before her, the blade trembled as if it recognized her.

Laryn was no heir to the throne, but heir to a vow.

She fought for those without a voice, and Elthan's sword flared when she faced her hardest choice:

To end the life of someone she loved… to protect those who needed her.

Jyn stopped reading and stared at the shard.

"Each piece… is more than metal. It's a life."

Rock whispered, "You really think the shards will come together on their own?"

Jyn lifted the second piece.

"No, they force you to know their history… to deserve them."

Suddenly, a white aura radiated from the two shards, and a beam of light shot through a crack in the ceiling as if the sword itself was announcing its presence.

At that moment, footsteps thundered from above.

Sera drew her dagger, eyes sharp.

"We asked ourselves many times: Where did the sword go? Did your father hide it? Did he bury it with himself? Has the will died?"

She looked at Jyn.

"But now… we have the answer. The will is alive."

The sound of pounding footsteps grew louder, the air thickening with tension.

"No time to explain, attack!" Rock shouted, pointing to the stairs.

From above rushed men cloaked in black armor, faces hidden behind rough masks, wielding sharp weapons.

Jyn raised both swords cautiously—the first shard in his left hand, the second in his right—both pulsing with newfound power.

Sera lined an arrow, releasing it toward one attacker while Rock guarded their rear with his massive axe.

In the heat of battle, the glowing shards pulsed stronger, and faint whispers echoed in Jyn's mind—voices of ancient heroes guiding him.

"This is a test… not just of strength, but of will," he murmured.

Suddenly, the attackers' leader screamed, a dark figure cloaked in black appearing behind him. He wielded a shadowy sword that swallowed light.

His glare was sharp, filled with hatred.

"You will not let your arrogance rebuild Valmair. This legacy must die."

Jyn breathed deeply, eyes burning with unyielding resolve.

"Elthan did not die. Will does not perish."

The clash began—light against darkness, will against oppression.

With every strike, Jyn felt the shards uniting—not merely a weapon, but a message from heroes past.

Rock and Sera fought fiercely, proving they were not mere guards but true companions in this fateful journey.

The attackers fell, but the shadowy figure lingered, a dark promise in his eyes.

Before vanishing, he whispered:

"You cannot escape destiny… the shadows hunt you."

The hall closed slowly on the three heroes, their breaths heavy, knowing this temple was no mere refuge—it was a trial of their will.

Jyn sheathed both shards and said,

"This road will not be easy, but we will go on… for will is what keeps us alive."

As Jyn secured the two shards into the old hilt, he knew the sword remained incomplete. Yet it still held an undeniable power.

"This is Elthan," he said quietly. "Broken, scattered, yet still mine. Not just because it carries shards, but because it holds the will of those before me."

Rock looked at him in awe.

"Do you really think you'll gather all the pieces someday?"

Jyn smiled with certainty.

"I will. For Valmair's sake. Until then, this sword is mine—and that is enough because I am its bearer of will."

Jyn sat before the forest temple, shards in hand, immersed in deep focus. The shards' light flickered rhythmically as he envisioned waves of energy flowing from his hands into the sword.

"This metallic flash… I must master it for what's to come."

He moved the broken sword through precise, swift motions, repeating advanced techniques from the first shard's book. A soft blue glow faded into a pure white radiance, stronger and sharper.

In his mind's eye, a spirit of an ancient hero whispered guidance, teaching him to merge deeper with the sword's power.

Jyn exhaled slowly.

"This is just the beginning… the second stage. The metallic flash evolves with me."