CHAPTER TWENTY #2
"You're up early," Brynn said without breaking her form, completing the sequence before lowering her weapons. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe knot, emphasizing the sharp lines of her face. Sweat glistened at her temples despite the biting cold. "Couldn't sleep either?"
"I haven't tried," Thalia admitted, patting the new sword at her hip. "I've been in the forge all night."
Brynn's eyes narrowed, her gaze shifting to the cloth-wrapped object in Thalia's hand. "And what's that? Doesn't look like breakfast."
"Something better." Thalia unwrapped the black blade, holding it up for Brynn’s inspection; Brynn grimaced at the sight of it. "I need your help testing a theory."
She explained quickly—the silver-blue ore from the abandoned mine, her suspicion that it could counter the Isle Wardens' weapons, the night spent forging the experimental blade.
As she spoke, Brynn's expression shifted from skepticism to calculated interest, her eyes measuring the new sword at Thalia's hip with professional appraisal.
"You want to spar," Brynn concluded. “To test the blade.”
"It's our only chance against their next attack," Thalia said, nodding. "We need to know if it works before we commit resources to forging more."
Brynn considered for a moment, then grinned, holding out one hand. "Hand it over, then.”
Thalia extended the wrapped Warden blade, hilt first. Brynn took it with uncharacteristic hesitation, a visible shudder passing through her as her fingers closed around the grip.
She tested its weight with a few experimental swings, her movements stiffer than usual, as if the blade itself resisted her control.
"It feels... wrong," she said, frowning. "It’s well-weighted, but….”
"The metal has strange properties," Thalia agreed, drawing her new blade. The ice-glacenite caught the morning light, sending flickers of blue-white across the frost-covered ground. "Ready?"
Brynn assumed a defensive stance, the black blade held low. "Don't hold back. If this works, I want to know it will work against a real attack."
They circled each other, boots crunching on the frozen ground. Thalia adjusted her grip, the leather-wrapped hilt warm against her palm. The blade hummed faintly, as if eager for its purpose.
Brynn moved first, always the aggressor. The black blade cut a dark arc through the air, whistling toward Thalia's shoulder. She brought her sword up to parry, bracing for the shock of impact—or worse, the disintegration of the blade she’d spent hours forging.
Metal met metal with a clear, ringing tone. The impact sent a jolt up Thalia's arm, but her blade remained whole, its edge unmarred where the Warden weapon had struck. A laugh burst from her chest, triumph and relief mingling in the sound.
"It works!" she exclaimed, disengaging to circle again. "It actually works!"
Brynn's eyes narrowed, professional interest overtaking her initial caution. "Let's be certain," she said, and attacked again, this time with a series of rapid strikes designed to test the blade's resilience from multiple angles.
Thalia met each blow, the weapons singing together in the crisp morning air.
Each successful parry confirmed what the first had suggested—the ice-glacenite withstood the black metal's touch.
But as they continued, she noticed something strange.
Her breaths came faster than they should, her muscles trembling with an exhaustion that couldn't be explained by physical exertion alone.
A strike that should have been easy to deflect nearly slipped past her guard. She stumbled back, blinking against a sudden dizziness. Something was wrong. An unfamiliar, gnawing fear coiled in her chest, irrational yet overwhelming.
"What's the matter?" Brynn pressed forward, her strikes more controlled now, testing rather than attacking. "You're faltering."
Thalia couldn't answer. Her vision had begun to narrow, the edges darkening as if she were peering through a tunnel. Sweat chilled along her spine despite the cold air. The fear intensified with each clash of the blades, a sickening dread that pooled in her stomach like ice water.
Then she heard it. A scream that cut through the morning air, high and desperate. A voice she would recognize anywhere.
"Mari?" The name tore from her throat. She whirled, searching the empty plateau for her sister.
"Thalia?" Brynn's voice seemed distant, confused. "There's no one—"
Another scream, more desperate than the first. Thalia's sword arm dropped, her focus shattered. "Mari!" she called again.
The world tilted suddenly. Her knees struck the frozen ground, though she didn't remember falling. The blue-silver blade slipped from her fingers, landing beside her with a muted thud. A gray haze descended, the physical world receding as another reality imposed itself over her senses.
She found herself surrounded by a towering, endless wall of storm, wind howling in her ears, lightning clawing at the sky in jagged white fingers.
The air tasted of salt and rain and something else, something acrid and burning.
Through the tempest's roar, Mari's voice reached her, thin and terrified.
"Thalia! Help us! Please!"
She tried to move toward the sound, but her limbs were leaden, unresponsive. The storm wall pulsed before her, a living barrier between her and her sister. Within its churning heart, she glimpsed shadowy figures moving with inhuman grace, their outlines briefly illuminated by lightning flashes.
"Mari!" she cried, the word torn away by the wind. "I'm coming!"
Another voice joined her sister's—her mother's, hoarse with fear. "They're coming back! Thalia, we can't—" The words dissolved into a scream that made Thalia's blood freeze.
She fought harder against her body's strange paralysis, straining toward the storm wall. Her mother and sister were there, just beyond reach, surrounded by Isle Wardens with their black-metal blades raised high.
"No!" The word tore from her throat, raw and desperate. "Stay away from them!"
The tempest roared louder, drowning out their voices.
Lightning struck closer, blinding her. In that white flash, she saw Mari clearly—her sister's face contorted with terror, hand outstretched toward Thalia, tears cutting clean tracks through the grime on her cheeks.
Behind her, dark figures advanced, their features obscured by the storm but their intent unmistakable.
"Mari!" Thalia screamed soundlessly, her voice lost in the howling chaos. "Mother!"
The white light intensified, consuming the vision in a searing flash.
Pain lanced through her head, sharp and sudden.
The storm collapsed inward, and Thalia found herself gasping on her hands and knees on the frost-covered plateau, the morning sun harsh in her eyes, reality reasserting itself with brutal efficiency.
Brynn knelt beside her, one hand gripping Thalia's shoulder, the other holding both blades well away from them. Her face was drawn with concern, all traces of her usual reserve vanished.
"Thalia," she was saying, her voice sharp with urgency. "Come back. Whatever you're seeing, it's not real."
Thalia blinked, struggling to orient herself. The storm was gone. The plateau stretched empty around them, silent but for their ragged breathing. No Mari. No mother. No Isle Wardens. Only the cold ground beneath her palms and the lingering echo of screams that had never actually sounded.
"What..." she managed, her throat raw as if she'd been screaming. Perhaps she had been. "What happened?"
Brynn's eyes flicked to the silver-blue blade, now lying several paces away. "Something's wrong with that weapon," she said grimly. "You collapsed. Started screaming about someone named Mari. I couldn’t get you to listen again until you’d dropped that sword."
Thalia pushed herself to a sitting position, her limbs still trembling. The vision had been so real, so immediate. Even now, the echo of Mari's scream lingered in her ears.
"It showed me my family," she whispered. "In danger. Surrounded by a storm. I could hear them… screaming for help."
Brynn's expression hardened. "That’s not a weapon," she said flatly. "It’s its own wielder’s nightmare."