A child knelt beside the rubble, crying uncontrollably over her dead mother. An elf, engulfed in flames, ran screaming through the chaos and accidentally set another woman ablaze as she searched for her family.

In the midst of it all, a shadow dragged a fighter as far from the battle as she could manage, her own injuries slowing her down. She then limped over to the warrior, struggling to lift him.

“Leave me,” the warrior groaned, his face pale from blood loss. “I’m dead weight.

A bolt of lightning struck nearby, and the shadow shouted, “I’m not leaving you! Now help me move you!”

The warrior tried his best to shift, but his strength was fading fast. Blood loss clouded his vision, and within moments, darkness consumed him.

In a void, the warrior slowly lifted his head from a kneeling position as a dim glow appeared beneath him. He was kneeling on what seemed to be a floor of blood, though the surface did not ripple as he moved. In front of him, droplets of blood fell from somewhere, causing faint ripples to spread across the crimson floor.

A sword descended from the darkness above, its voice cold and familiar. “Hello, bearer.”

The warrior blinked, confusion clouding his mind. “Am I dead?” he asked.

The sword hovered before him, its blade gleaming. “Not yet,” it replied.

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The warrior looked around, disoriented. “Where am I, then?”

“We are in a small domain of mine,” the sword said, circling him slowly. “But that doesn’t matter. I’ve pulled your spirit here to amend our contract.”

The warrior’s eyes narrowed as he followed the sword’s movements. “What contract? Who are you?”

The sword stopped in front of him once more. “I am the blade you wield, the one you call upon in battle.”

Recognition flickered across the warrior’s face. “I remember now,” he muttered. “You gave me your hatred in exchange for… what? A simple bond between sword and master? You’re cursed. Any deal with you will lead to my demise.”

The blade hummed, the sound low and ominous. “This is true.”

The warrior flinched at the sword’s blunt admission.

“But I can give you what you want,” the blade whispered. “Strength. More strength than you could ever imagine, and enough power to lead your people from the suffering that—”

The warrior tried to push the floating sword away from him and hung his head low. “And what will it cost me?”

The sword’s voice became darker, more insistent. “You will never know true love, your freedom will be stripped from you, and not only will you have my hate but you will have the hate of the world as well…”

The warrior stared at his reflection in the pool of blood beneath him, his lip trembling. “No. I refuse.”

The sword’s size doubled, glowing with fierce green light. “You cannot hide from me, bearer. We are bound. I can peer into your soul, and you are lying to yourself.”

Tears welled in the warrior’s eyes. “I— I am.”

The blade’s laughter echoed, resonating deeply within the space, causing the pool of blood to ripple violently around them. “You will restore my divinity yet,” the sword declared, and with a sudden thrust, it plunged itself into the warrior’s chest, sending him doubling over.