It was freezing, colder than I had thought possible. I opened my eyes and tried to push the mist back from my brain. This wasn't my bed, wasn't my room. Where in hell's name was I? My thoughts came together: It shouldn't be cold. I sleep in my own bed. Where am I?

I lay along a jagged rock formation. Snowflakes floated lazily through the air, gently sifting down as delicate threads of cotton, but the cold cutting wind pierced me with icy sharpness. Where am I? Is this really earth? Cold only seemed to make my already throbbing headache worse.

I turned round again-the wood to my left stretched out into sheer darkness and infinity, the village stood fairly far to my right, enveloped by mist; is this a dream? No, I rubbed my eyes with all my might trying to make sense of everything, without an answer.

I puffed out a mist in the cold air, my clothes clinging to my skin like ice water was running right through me. I was desperate to move, to find some kind of shelter. but I stayed there slumped up against the boulder. Too exhausted to do what I thought of.

Then a voice interrupted the quiet: [You're just sitting there, aren't you?]

I froze, instinctively raising my fists out in front of me in a futile attempt at self-defense, but there was nothing there except the sword. The sword? Really, had it been standing there all this time? I blinked and narrowed my focus on it. Deeply buried into the stone upto the hilt, nearly radiant, it seemed to await my acknowledgment.

[How long do you intend to remain idle? I've been waiting for you to pay me some attention] the voice continued, its tone dry with an undertone of amusement. 

I raised my eyes, scanning the clearing. There, lodged in the stone, was the sword-the very one I had almost overlooked earlier, its blade wreathed by an ethereal light with silver particles floating around it.

"What do you want?" I mumbled, though I couldn't quite understand why I was speaking to it.

[I want you to help me,] it said simply, though an urgent undertone now colored its voice. [Pull me out, and I can give you everything you desire.]

I squinted at the sword, my heart racing. "Help you? How?" I certainly wasn't going to just grab a random sword. This place was weird enough without adding any more cursed objects.

[It's not a curse, you buffoon. You just don't get it, do you?] The voice had grown sharper now, deep and melancholic. [I am a memory blade-albeit dormant, but certainly real. If you help me, I will make sure that everything you ever wanted becomes yours. You want power, don't you?]

I froze, calculating my next step. A memory blade? What was that even supposed to mean? Again, I looked at the sword, unsure whether I was dreaming this all or if it was some trick the cold was playing on my mind. The forest around me seemed eerily silent, as if waiting.

"I don't even know who I am. How could I know what I want?" I tried reasoning.

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[No matter.] the voice said, [Just come here and pull me out.]

I was hesitant, the voice was alluring, pulling me, compelling me to grab the sword.

[We'll bind,] said the sword, pulling me back from my trance, breaking the cold silence once again. [That's what we'll do. You'll bind your soul with mine. We'll share our strength, and I will give you power-power beyond your wildest imagination. I promise you; it won't be too painful.]

I closed my eyes and thought hard. What did it cost? What would this really be like? It was tempting, yes, but nothing good ever came without its consequences. After all, 'There was nothing like a free lunch'.

I took a deep breath and asked, "What does binding actually mean? And what is going to happen if I agree?"

[It means we become one,] the sword said now, softer, as if to calm me down. [You'll have my strength, my memories. and I shall have yours. Our souls will intertwine to one. All your dreams will come true.]

I leaned forward to rub the bridge of my nose, thinking. All around me hung heavy, promises of all sorts of danger. Could I trust this sword? Or was this one of those choices that'd haunt me for the rest of my life?

Its words rested heavy on my shoulders; however, doubts curled in my stomach. I tried to shake this feeling: should I risk it? Could I really afford letting it go?

I stood up slowly, feeling the weight of the world pushing me toward the sword, I felt as if the sword was meant for me. I turned to glance back at the distant village, barely visible. No answers there. This might be my last chance of getting out of this hellhole.

"Fine," I growled to myself. The words came out easier than I expected. "Let's do it."

I stretched out a hand to the hilt, and in that moment, all came alive. The earth trembled subtly underfoot; mist danced as I curled my fingers about the icy steel of the blade. The moment my hand met the cold hilt, a shock up my arm leaped forth, nearly unbalancing me. I gritted my teeth, pulling harder this time, my muscles straining as beads of sweat formed on my brow.

A blinding light burst forth and then swirled around us in a dome of crackling blue energy. Words emerged in the air, strange runic symbols I didn't recognize, flashing like lightning: then the pain hit me.

It had nothing to do with the body. It was inside me, eating my soul, racking me apart and then stitching together bits of the thing to become something entirely wrong. The process repeated again and again for what felt like eternity.

My eyes reeled, and I could hear in my mind the voice of the sword speaking: a curious blend of relief and triumph. [It's done, we're bound now-partners for life.]

I was unable to move, unable to think. Fire coursed through my veins, stopping my breath from inside, I coughed, blood came up. My mind was leaving me. I was slipping away into the void, but, somehow through the dense fog, one last thought struggled in:

'I shouldn't have believed the sword.'

And then everything cut to black.