The Relic （Part 2）
The Dissolver tried to approach the sword, but Rowena caught his arm.
"Stop! Don't touch it!" she warned, her voice tense.
"Why?" he asked, confusion flickering in his eyes.
Rowena took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts. "Did anyone ever tell you about the Great War?"
"You mean the one happening now?" he replied, puzzled.
Rowena shook her head. "No, this war happened a long time ago. It's one of the legends my father used to tell me."
The Dissolver shook his head.
Recalling her father's stories, Rowena began:
"Not long after Etheria was founded, a powerful foe emerged. His name is lost to time, but he was a ruthless archmage and necromancer who planned to enslave the world.
With a heart devoid of mercy, he delved into forbidden magics, raising legions of undead. He traveled across continents, conquering kingdoms, razing cities, and leaving devastation in his wake. His army grew with every victory.
Within a few years, his forces became unstoppable. None could stand against him.
But when he arrived in Solmira, he met resistance he never expected.
On Etherian soil, he faced the might of King Osias, who wielded ancient power strong enough to rival his own. Their armies clashed, and Osias realized the immense threat they faced.
Osias sent word to every corner of Solmira, uniting all kingdoms under one banner. He revealed the secrets of Ancient Power and how to resist dark magic, empowering his people to fight back.
Years of war followed. Enemy hordes seemed endless; towns burned, fields wasted, numbers dwindled. After a long siege, the enemy surrounded the last stronghold and demanded King Osias's head.
Despair swept through the people, but Osias had a plan.
In a miraculous feat of sacrifice, he exhausted his power, pouring it into conjuring seven legendary weapons. Each was said to be crafted in another realm by beings who transcend this world, the realm from which the Ancient Power originates.
These weapons could destroy the enemy, but Osias warned that only the worthy could wield them. For the unworthy, a single touch meant instant death.
He entrusted the weapons to his people, then surrendered himself to the enemy, sacrificing his life to buy time for the people.
A grim trial followed. Brave volunteers stepped forward, testing their fate by reaching for the weapons. Many perished, their lives snuffed out the moment they touched the hilts.
The weapons, cold and black as midnight, remained dormant until a true champion touched one. Then, it burst forth in radiant light, empowering the chosen.
After all seven champions were chosen, their weapons blazing with ethereal light, they led a final charge against the enemy's armies.
The tide shifted. The enemy fell before the champions, and within days, his dark magic was dispelled.
When peace returned, the weapons reverted to their black, dormant state. Their true power was sealed away again."
"What happened to the weapons?" the Dissolver asked, eyes wide with wonder.
"No one knows..." Rowena trailed off. Her eyes drifted back to the black longsword in the chest.
She remembered Lord Davenport's urgent plea: deliver something to Prince Ladomir.
"Do you..." The Dissolver's eyes followed hers. Realization dawned. "Do you think that is one of those weapons?"
"I-I'm not sure..." Rowena whispered, scarcely believing the words as she said them.
Rowena stepped closer to the chest, careful not to touch the blade. She lifted the leather flap, revealing more of the sword's midnight steel.
The longsword stretched nearly four feet. Its steel was so utterly black it seemed to devour the light, a subtle, shifting aura dancing along its edges. Despite the darkness, its artistry was undeniable.
The cross guard swept outward like raven wings, each side adorned with tiny black stones polished to a mirror finish and set deep within the metal.
Examining it closely, she noticed impossibly fine filigree etched in the metal-delicate patterns of interwoven vines and ancient runes, so subtle they revealed themselves only in the rare glimmer of light.
The grip was just as exquisite, wrapped in flawless midnight-black leather.
Rowena stared, jaw slack with awe. "I've never seen anything like this before," she murmured.
Her heart hammered in her chest.
A smile crept across her face, and tears welled in her eyes. Hope swelled within her.
"What if this really is the weapon of legend?" she breathed.
The Dissolver's face lit up. "Could it be?"
Rowena laughed, bewildered. "Do you know what this could mean for our people?" she exclaimed, excitement rising. "This could be the key to our salvation! There is still hope for us-for everyone!"
Rowena clasped the gold button, sealing the leather flap. She lifted the scabbard, unfolded the carrying strap, and slung it over her shoulder. The sword was heavy, but excitement overpowered any discomfort.
"Dissolver, we have to deliver this to Prince Ladomir. That's what Lord Davenport wanted-not the key, but the weapon itself."
"But how do we find him?" the Dissolver asked, doubt creeping into his voice.
Rowena paused, unsure how to answer.
"I don't know," she admitted, "but we must find a way. Too much is at stake. Now we have the answer-it's our duty to see this through."
The Dissolver nodded, determination returning to his eyes.
As Rowena adjusted the sheath, trying to hide it under her cloak, a folded parcel slipped from the bindings and landed on the floor. The Dissolver quickly picked it up.
He turned it over in his hands. "What is this?" he asked, curiosity piqued.
Rowena took it delicately, peeling the layers apart with care. The parchment was incredibly old. Inside, she found a detailed map of Solmira.
Rowena studied the map, brow furrowed. Most of the names and landscapes had changed over time. Some settlements were unfamiliar, while others sparked recognition.
She pointed to an X at the top of the map, nestled in a mountain range.
"This must be where we are," she said. "In the Northern Mountains."
Her gaze swept the page for other markers. Another red X appeared, far to the west, in a distant mountain range. She eyed it with suspicion.
"This red mark is curious," she murmured. "It's the only other location marked. But it's in the Great Divide-the mountain range that splits Solmira between the fertile lands and the dead lands."
"What are the dead lands?" the Dissolver asked, his voice wavering. He didn't like what the name implied.
Rowena offered reassurance. "It isn't what it sounds like. We call it the dead lands because it's a vast desert-hot, and almost lifeless. Few people live there, and the settlements are small."
She pondered their next steps, grateful for the map, even if it was old and out of date.
"I think we should go here," she decided, tapping the red X. "There must be a reason our ancestors marked it."
The Dissolver's eyes widened as he took in the distance.
"How will we make it?" he asked, overwhelmed. "We have no supplies."
"First, we'll travel south to Goldhaven," Rowena explained, pointing to a settlement on the map. "They were-maybe still are-an Etherian territory. Before the war, it was a peaceful lumber town. If we go there, we can rest and gather supplies. Then, we'll head west to the Great Divide."
The Dissolver stayed silent, brow creased with worry as he tried to comprehend the enormity of their task.
Rowena saw the fear in his eyes and remembered he was still just a child. She folded the map, tucked it in her pack, then took his hands and looked him in the eyes.
She spoke with quiet conviction.
"I know you're afraid. I'm afraid too. But this task is bigger than us. Don't fear what's ahead-you are strong and brave enough to face it. You saved my life today. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. You're a hero, Dissolver, and this task was meant for us."
The Dissolver lifted his chin, a small smile forming at her words. It was the encouragement he needed.
But as Rowena looked at him, she glimpsed a deep sadness in his eyes; a burden he couldn't voice. Instead, he simply asked,
"Which way should we go?" He glanced back the way they'd come, then over his shoulder where the tunnel stretched onward, past the large chamber.
"We should follow the breeze," she said, suddenly recalling their precarious situation. "And we need to hurry-those soldiers might be missed. Their company could come looking for them. We can't linger here any longer."
They pressed on through the darkness. The winding passage angled upward, becoming a seemingly endless flight of stone stairs. Step by step, they climbed, legs aching and lungs burning, until at last a faint, silvery glow appeared above them.
At last, they reached a rough-hewn doorway carved into the mountainside, its entrance veiled by thick ivy and trailing vines. Rowena and the Dissolver pushed through the greenery and emerged at the brink of a sheer cliff, the chasm plunging into shadowy depths below.
They abandoned the torch, relying on moon and starlight. Clinging to tangled ivy and knotted roots, they painstakingly scaled the treacherous cliffside.
Sore and breathless, they hauled themselves onto a narrow ledge and paused, the vastness of the world spread out beneath them.
From their high vantage, they gazed back down the way they'd come. Through breaks in the clouds, starlight revealed faint shadows of smoke drifting above the ruined village.
Their sanctuary was now a scar, etched into the land; unmistakable, even in moonlight. The sight was a stark reminder of all they had lost and the peril still awaiting them.
Together, they surveyed the wild, unknown landscape ahead, understanding their journey had only just begun.
Rowena pressed a trembling hand to her side, feeling sticky blood soaking through her bandage and shirt. The deep cut throbbed with every heartbeat, each breath sending sharp pain through her chest.
She steadied herself, forcing her gaze ahead. The Dissolver stood beside her, shivering. Their packs were nearly empty, exhaustion hanging over them like a shroud. Every step was a test of sheer will.
Danger loomed all around.
A cold wind blew from the east. Thick, dark clouds gathered in the distance. This time of year, the weather was volatile. A storm was not far away.
The cold bit through their cloaks as wind howled around them. But the storm was not their only concern.
Somewhere in the trees below, beyond the moonlight's reach, came a sound-the low, guttural yipping of wolves carried on the wind.
It was close.
Too close.
Rowena tightened her grip on the scabbard slung across her back.
The path to Goldhaven stretched before them.
Empty.
Unknown.
Perilous.
She exchanged a glance with the Dissolver. Both understood without words:
the night was far from over,
and the dangers had only just begun.