The cavern had grown colder as Zarin slipped the pendant around his neck, the small crystal resting against his chest like a quiet heartbeat. The sword on the altar still gleamed in the pale light, but its call had faded. The weight of his decision sat heavily on his shoulders, but it wasn’t the oppressive burden he had feared. Instead, it felt… steady. As though the pendant was grounding him, soothing the raw edges of the power that had so often threatened to consume him.
He closed his eyes for a moment, his fingers brushing the pendant. The storm of energy within him—the surge of Old Magic—had calmed. It was still there, still powerful, but it no longer clawed at him, no longer demanded to be unleashed with the same reckless intensity. The pendant’s warmth spread through him, like a steadying force, reminding him that he wasn’t defined by his power, but by how he chose to wield it.
When Zarin opened his eyes, the cavern seemed less threatening. The shadows were still long and deep, but they no longer pressed in on him, no longer whispered fears and doubts. His path felt clearer now.
He turned and made his way back down the passage, his footsteps echoing in the silence. Every step felt lighter, more purposeful, as though the weight of his past—of his uncertainty—had been lifted. The pendant hummed softly against his chest, and Zarin couldn’t help but feel that he had made the right choice. Not just for himself, but for the future he wanted to build.
As he emerged from the narrow tunnel, the light of the ravine hit him with a gentle warmth. The air was crisp, and the oppressive energy that had filled the cave seemed to have dissipated. For the first time in a long while, Zarin felt a sense of calm—a calm that he hadn’t realized he had been searching for.
He spotted Reya at the far end of the ravine, standing still, her eyes fixed on the sword at her feet.
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Reya hadn’t moved since the sword had fallen from her grip. The blade, once so familiar, now felt distant, as though it belonged to someone else. She stared at it for a long time, her heart heavy with the weight of her choice. Maros’ words echoed in her mind, mingling with the voice of her mother: You don’t need it to be strong.
But could she really let it go?
Her fingers twitched at her side, the instinct to reach for the sword still strong. It had been her constant companion, the thing that had saved her life time and again. She had learned to fight with it, to trust it, to become one with it. And yet, for the first time, she realized that the sword wasn’t what made her strong. It was a tool, yes, but it wasn’t her only source of power.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Reya took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing as she stared down at the blade. She wasn’t ready to give it up—not entirely. But she understood now that her strength came from within, not from the steel in her hand. The sword didn’t define her, just as it hadn’t defined her mother. It was an extension of her will, her spirit, her skill. But it was only part of who she was.
With slow, deliberate movements, Reya bent down and picked up the sword. The weight was familiar, comforting, but it no longer felt like a lifeline. She sheathed it at her side, her hand resting on the hilt for a moment before she let it fall away. She would keep the sword, but it would no longer be the only thing she relied on. There was more to her than the blade.
Zarin’s footsteps approached, and Reya looked up, meeting his gaze. There was a new sense of calm in his eyes, a steadiness that hadn’t been there before.
“You made your choice,” Reya said, her voice quiet but steady.
Zarin nodded, his fingers brushing the pendant at his chest. “Yeah. I think… I think it’s helping.”
Reya glanced at the pendant, feeling the warmth that seemed to radiate from it. “What is it?”
“I’m not sure,” Zarin admitted. “But it’s calming. Like it’s helping me control everything inside me. The power, the… anger. It’s not gone, but it’s quieter now.”
Reya studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. Zarin had always struggled with his power, had always been afraid of what it might turn him into. But now, as she looked at him, she saw something different. He wasn’t fighting against the magic anymore. He was learning to live with it.
“That’s good,” Reya said, her hand resting lightly on her sword. “We’re going to need that control if we’re going to face what’s ahead.”
Zarin gave her a small smile. “What about you? Did you… make your choice?”
Reya’s hand tightened briefly on the hilt of her sword before she let it fall away. “I did. I’m keeping the sword. But I’m not going to let it control me anymore.”
Zarin nodded, understanding. “It’s part of who you are, but it doesn’t define you.”
“Exactly,” Reya said, her voice firm. “I’ve been fighting with it for so long that I forgot I was the one wielding it. It’s not the sword that gives me strength. It’s me.”
Zarin smiled, a sense of relief washing over him. Reya had always been the strongest person he knew, but now, standing there with her, he realized that strength came from more than just her skill with a blade. It came from her spirit, her determination, and her willingness to face her own fears.
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their choices settling over them like a quiet understanding. The journey ahead was still uncertain, but they had both taken a step forward—toward understanding themselves, and toward the strength they would need to face the challenges ahead.
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The cave wasn’t finished with them.
As they began to make their way back toward the entrance of the ravine, a sudden tremor shook the ground beneath their feet. Zarin’s hand instinctively went to the pendant, feeling the warmth surge through him as the earth beneath him shifted.
“What now?”