Slick white metal crested out of Leland’s hand, forcing him to drop Lodestar. It vibrated, jolted, and thrashed like prey trapped within a bear’s mouth. Spikes of power shot from the scythe blade, each malnourished with hints of blackened spite. They gleamed softly, despite their sharpness and pointed tip.

Leland stepped back, Lodestar’s voice echoing in his mind. “A taste.”

The scythe’s handle and pole crumbled, fading away like decaying time before being reborn the color of a clam’s pearl. Ivory brandished itself like a cancerous growth, consuming the thrashing blade before withering itself. It deflated, coiling wide and far. It skirted through the sand, using the grains like a polishing stone. What little dark metal remained was soon gone, the whole of the weapon replaced with iridescent white.

It gleamed like a smith’s masterwork, sharpened and reflective. Circular in shape, if Leland laid down at its center with his arms out wide, he wouldn’t be able to touch its curves. Not that he would want to, not with how angry it looked.

He scoffed at that. An angry ring of metal? he questioned. How does that make any sense?

He wasn’t sure, but it did. Lodestar waded through the marshes of thought and idea in his mind, opting to continue its promise of power silently. It took up residence there, tethering itself like a quiet old neighbor with a lawn chair and all the free time in the world.

Slowly the ring of metal thickened itself until the band was the size of Leland’s fist, its sharpness never faltering. It began to move, shaking off the sand and taking to the air. Silently it moved until it was standing before him.

“A taste,” the ring, Lodestar, whispered, its voice reaching Leland’s ears rather than just being stuck in his head.

He shivered, but grit his teeth and sought to reclaim dominion over the weapon. “A ring? Is that the best you could come up with?”

Lodestar chuckled, its white pearly metal vibrating. “Not a ‘ring,’ but a halo.”

Leland didn’t flinch at the declaration, but he wanted to. Parasitic weapons were understood in only the most basic sense. How they functioned and how they formed were cause for many debates. Generally, all debates were centered around one simple thing. The host. Parasitic weapons were cunning. They waited and watched, often taking control of their host during their darkest moments. But Lodestar taking the form of a halo? The symbol that Leland fought so hard to distance himself from?

It was a low blow.

Regardless, he couldn’t show fear or anger now. The trail for evolution was over. And until Lodestar tried again, it was Leland’s.

“Still not understanding how a halo of metal is going to help me fight,” he said.

Again Lodestar chuckled. “It won’t.”

“Then what—”

A power rippled through the center of the halo. A midnight black wave of mana rose and fell like a rock dropped into a pond. What little light there was highlighted the darkness, profoundly developing depth until the darkness was all one saw. Leland stared into the darkness like he did Ashford’s eyes. The further he went, the more enthralled he became. Deeper and deeper the darkness ran, until a hand jerked him to the side.

“What—”

“Leland!” his dad yelled, gripping him and pulling him close. “We need to—”

Forcing himself out of his dad’s hands, Leland spun and forced whatever the darkness was closed. It instantly took to his will, Lodestar not under the illusion it could fight him right now. The ripple of power dripped away, leaving the pearl halo alone.

Leland breathed heavily, his upper lip hooked to the right in a snarl. “That wasn’t a taste,” he said, his voice tight and unbroken.

Lodestar slowly began to rotate, the movement hard to see as it was one continuous perfect ring of metal with no seams or cracks.

“What was it then?” the halo asked.

Spencer flinched, portals of all sizes and shapes opening all around. The third largest of which produced people, Lucia, the first to step through, Isobel right behind.

“It was… it was…” Leland bit his tongue. There was no point arguing. Not with a sentient piece of metal. Still, he needed to say something, if not to rebuke but to keep his pride intact. “It was hardly a sniff.”

Any other situation Leland would have kicked himself for uttering those words. But here he found them rather fitting… albeit a lie. Staring into the darkness wasn’t a sniff or taste. It was a full course candlelit meal. Yet Lodestar called it a taste, which begged the question: Just how powerful was the actual full course.

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Lodestar stopped spinning. “A lie to save face.” It chuckled again. “I’ll allow it.”

Leland took a deep breath. “Enough of this. What does the darkness do?”

“It is nothing more than a window into oblivion.”

Carmon lowered his head, slowly brandishing his weapon. Oblivion, he knew, was not something to take lightly.

Scoffing, Leland said, “You are no Lord or king. You do not get to say half-truths and riddles to me. You are my weapon, not my partner or friend. Answer me and answer me well, what does the darkness do?”

Briefly Leland noticed the winds of fate rushing through the desert. They headed west, a pathway to what he wanted most.

“Nothing much,” Lodestar said. “I am and have always been, a summoning circle. The darkness is the construct that brings Calamity into the world.”

Leland didn’t react, not that he needed to. Lodestar was a part of him just as he was part of it. There was no point in lying, no point in trying to hide face. Lodestar was right in that matter, they were tethered and could feel one another. Although, to Leland, the weapon was nothing more than a blank husk of raw power. It had no emotion, no humanity, no will other than to consume him and become whole.

“What is Calamity in this scenario?” Leland asked.

“For a master? Death. For you? Fire and brimstone.”

“That is not helpful. Speak clearly.”

Lodestar said, “No. Not until you speak with my creator.”

“And who might that be?”

“Is it not obvious? The Lord of Souls.”

Leland watched the former scythe unsummon itself. How it could do that against his will, not to mention plainly not answer his questions, he didn’t know. Everything he knew about parasitic items was, evidently, false. How could it even speak! That wasn’t supposed to happen!

Movement caught his eye. Looking at his crow tattoo, the mark of the Curse Lord, the ink looking at its new surroundings with confusion. Around it used to be Lodestar’s summoning circle. Now, the circle was gone.

Leland had his back turned to the group and his contract with the Seraph Lord had run its course. Meaning his shirt was ripped apart and he was wingless. His mirage noticed it first.

“Nice ink!” Leland Two said, having walked forward and pulled at his shirt.

“What?” Original Leland snarled.

“Woah, woah, woah. No need to get mad. I was just trying to see our new ink.” Leland Two thought for a second. “Oh! I guess you want to see it yourself. Here, look!”

The mirage turned around and lifted his shirt, revealing his back. Or well, Leland’s back. There, perfectly centered, was Lodestar. A white circle of ink that rose along his shoulder blades and wrapped down along his ribs and across the flat of his back. In the ring’s center was pure darkness. Ink, yes, but more than that. It hinted, like a sniff, of the true power the darkness held.

Leland tore his eyes away, lowering his mirage’s shirt and spinning him around. The others watched carefully, the Judes and Glennys wobbling slightly.

“No one is allowed to look at my back from this point on,” Leland announced.

“Lodestar evolved?” Isobel asked, her voice like ice.

“Yes.”

“And you won, right? Because I’ve never heard a parasitic weapon talk. Hell, I’ve hardly heard mine talk inside my head.”

“I won,” Leland said no louder than a whisper.

“Good.”

Lucia stepped forward, grappling her son into a hug. Spencer followed suit, doing the same. The three stood there, which Leland decided was good, as he didn’t think his legs could carry him right now.

Eventually they separated and everyone watched him cautiously. It was Carmon that broke the silence. “It said oblivion.”

The statement wasn’t directed at Leland but more at the other parents. Lucia was the one who replied. She spun on her heel, her hand front and center and her pointer finger locked onto the blade dancer.

“Don’t you start with this again! Oblivion does not mean what you think it does!”

Carmon was taken back. “And what do I think it means?”

“Death, destruction?” When Carmon didn’t take the bait, Lucia’s hard stare softened. “She’s gone, Carms. We all looked for a way to get her back. Oblivion is the end.”

Glenny looked between his father and his best friend’s mom. They had been together since their early adventuring days, but he had never heard his dad be called “Carms.”

“Dad?” he asked, but his dad had already turned and walked away. He followed after, leaving the group.

“What just happened?” Leland quietly asked.

Lucia sighed. “When Annie died, we all looked for ways to bring her back. Every lead turned out bad. Death is the end, and the end is oblivion. There is power in oblivion, yes, but not the kind that resurrects people.”

“I-I see. Maybe I could—”

“Shh, honey. It’s okay. No one is expecting anything from you.”

Leland gently nodded.

Isobel waited a moment, then swooped in. “Well kid, you impressed everyone watching you take out that nest. It is only fitting that your weapon evolves now, huh?”

Leland forced himself to smile.

“Anyway. There were things you could improve—”

“How fast?”

Now it was Isobel’s turn to smile. “Forty one seconds for the nest’s total annihilation.”