A biting wind howled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of blood and snow. The world was a blur of white and gray, swirling flakes obscuring the towering pines that loomed like silent sentinels. A storm was coming.

Slowly, I became aware of myself—of the icy ground beneath me, of the weight in my arms. My breath came ragged, misting in the frigid air. My fingers, stiff with cold, clung to something warm yet unmoving.

A child.

His small body was curled against me, as if seeking warmth that I could no longer provide. A deep wound marred his chest, the crimson stark against the pale blue of his skin. His face, peaceful in death, was one I should have recognized—but there was nothing. No memories, no names, only a vast emptiness where familiarity should have been.

My hands trembled as I pressed my fingers to his throat, searching for a pulse that I already knew was gone.

Nothing.

I swallowed, but my throat was dry. My eyes darted around, seeking answers.

Scattered across the snow were bodies—men, women, all dressed in ragged clothes. Some bore deep slashes, others had succumbed to the cold. A tipped-over carriage lay on its side, its wheels still slowly spinning, as if it had only just crashed. A massive, furred corpse slumped in front of it—a beast of some kind, its broken form half-buried in the snow.

And then—laughter.

I turned sharply. A figure clad in tattered robes strode toward the tree line, their back already to me. They walked with an easy gait, as if nothing in the world concerned them.

"Good luck," the stranger chuckled over their shoulder, their voice lilting with cruel amusement.

Then, before I could call out—before I could ask anything—they disappeared into the storm.

The world tilted. A dull ringing filled my ears.

And then came the roar.

A low, guttural sound rolled across the clearing, shaking the ice from the branches above. My body reacted before my mind could process—turning, scrambling to my feet.

There, emerging from behind the ruined carriage, was a beast that was neither wolf nor bear—a hulking predator, its eyes gleaming like coals in the dim light. Snow clung to its thick fur, and the jagged scars along its hide told of battles survived. It had been drawn here by the scent of blood. By the bodies. By me.

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I ran.

The snow was deep, each step a struggle. My breath burned in my lungs as the beast gave chase, its snarls growing closer. I didn’t know where I was going—only that I had to move, had to survive.

Then—a cave.

A narrow crack in the mountainside, half-hidden by snow-laden branches. Safety.

I forced my legs to move faster. The beast lunged—I threw myself forward, barely slipping past the jagged rocks at the entrance.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

Behind me, the beast let out a furious growl, its claws scraping against the stone. It tried to reach in, but the passage was too tight for its massive frame. I pressed myself against the cold rock, heart hammering as it clawed at the entrance.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the creature gave a snort and turned away. It had fresher, easier prey back at the wreckage.

I was safe.

For now.

***

The cave was deathly silent, save for my ragged breaths. The cold still seeped into my bones, but at least the wind no longer cut at my skin.

I sat there for a long while, curled against the stone. Who am I? The question echoed in my mind, but no answer came.

I turned my attention to my clothes—patched and threadbare, as if they had been mended over and over again. Not meant for this weather. The scent of damp earth and sweat clung to them. Had I been traveling for a long time?

I rubbed my arms for warmth and scanned the cave. It wasn’t deep—just a hollow in the rock. But something caught my eye.

In the dim light, I saw bones.

A skeleton lay against the far wall, clad in tattered remains of what might have once been fine clothing. Not fresh. They had been here a long time. But it wasn’t the body that drew my attention—it was what the corpse held.

A sword.

It rested in their lap, gripped loosely in bony fingers. The blade was elegant, its dark steel gleaming even in the faint light. The guard and pommel were silver, shaped like a crescent moon, and the hilt was wrapped in green leather.

I hesitated. It felt wrong to take from the dead. But I had no weapon, and there was still a beast lurking outside.

I reached out. The moment my fingers grazed the hilt—

Hello there!

I yelped, nearly dropping the sword. My head snapped up, eyes darting around the cave.

The voice—a woman’s voice—hadn’t come from my ears. It had come from inside my head.

Oh, you can hear me! Wonderful!

I swallowed hard. "Who’s there?" My voice came out hoarse, as if unused for days.

That would be me!

The voice was warm, almost cheerful.

My name is Shadebinder, and it is so nice to finally talk to someone again!

I stiffened. "Where are you?"

A soft laugh. Where else? Right in your hands.

I looked down.

The sword.

I released it instantly, scooting back against the rock.

Another laugh, though not unkind.

Oh, don’t be like that. I promise I don’t bite. Well, I can cut, but only if you want me to.

I stared at the blade. My mind told me this was impossible, but my instincts said otherwise.

Slowly, hesitantly, I reached for it again.

"...What are you?" I asked.

A pause. Then, a gentler reply.

I am a Soul-Weapon. My name is Shadebinder. And... if you’ll have me, I’d like to help you survive.

I exhaled shakily.

Outside, the storm raged on.

Inside, in the dark... I was no longer alone.