A swelling of sympathy for the entity came over Leta.
The Atlantians had built it to serve and protect.
It had likely seen countless battles, taken countless lives, and led thousands to victory.
Nevertheless, it had been lost to the sea - probably by intent.
She glimpsed memories of former Masters who were proud and dedicated to their cause. The last one had left his weapon, an extension of himself, with the life work of the Atlantians, as if to guard it in the afterlife.
He had literally severed a limb to keep what Doctor Pherenike had cherished safe from whatever would come next.
“Compared to your previous Master, I don’t think I’m worthy.” She said quietly, “But I am in danger. I’ve drawn the attention of others who are prepared to kill me, and they’ve almost been successful several times. They have already taken my mother and injured my father. I know I and those I care for are being hunted, and I wish to make them pay for every tear and drop of blood they have caused.”
When the weapon spoke this time, the vibration resonated like the collective voice of the hive-mind and all previous masters of the Weapon speaking as one entity.
~I, as all Weapons are, was created with reverence to the Atlantians and, in turn, to the Godseed. I bow to you now as a servant of the Atlantians and the Godspeed. I am yours to command, Monarch. ~
The energy continued as it lowered itself in a direction that seemed to be downward as if it were bowing to her.
“You will allow me to wield you?” Leta asked in confirmation.
~If that is what you wish, yes. I long for the ring of metal on steel as I defend a great cause. I can think of no greater honor than to be branded by the Godseed herself and to act as her instrument of both retribution and mercy. ~
Gada’s aura flared behind her, the threads that bound them together quivering as they extended outwards like wisps of silk towards the alien aura.
Words tumbled out of Leta as if they had been there resting against her soul all along, and yet she’d never spoken them before.
“Will you vow your loyalty to me? Will you act as an extension of my form and with my intent? Do you swear your form unto my keeping for all time, shaping yourself to my desires and needs? Do you pledge to be strong in my time of great peril and sharp as I exact my vengeance? No other shall give you commands, and should you falter under the pressure of others to point your blade at me, you will become truly lifeless, unable to be wielded forever more?”
~On every god among the stars and on those that watch behind the veils of the worlds, I swear this unto you, my Master. ~
[The Host has performed their first Oath Binding.]
[The Host has gained the skill Oath Binding: Level One. More than any spoken or written contract, the Oath Binding skill allows for a mutual agreement to be made between the Host and another entity. The Host and the counterpart entity must agree to the pact and accept all rewards and punishments associated with the Terms of Agreement. Please note that a reward and punishment must be given in the oath for it to be binding.]
[At level one, the Host can create minor Oath Bindings, resulting in less severe penalties possible for entities composed of living matter. With non-living matter, such as Atlantian Weapons, oaths are completely binding and can only be removed by those in the Atlantian Judiciary System.]
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Tendrils of power wrapped around the baseball-sized entity before Leta felt something click into place. The wisps that tied her, Gada, and the entity glowed white, resembling a star on the verge of exploding in the void’s darkness.
Eons of memories flashed through her mind’s eye as the cords which connected them tightened their hold as they sparked and crackled, lightning arched from her to the other entity.
The object seemed to groan softly as it enlarged from the size of a grapefruit to that of a small house.
Undeterred by the the size of the thing in front of her and acting on instinct, Leta’s soul grabbed hold of a cord and pulled, dragging the entity to her as she stared up at its large mass.
Her fear of it had burned away with the binding until all that remained was a calm sense of peace.
“Who do you serve?” She commanded, her town strong and echoing into the void as if to rattle the cosmos.
~I serve the Monarch of Earth, ~ It answered with a confidence no computer could muster, ~The True Crown. Queen of Storms. Master of Systems. Heir to the Lady of Mysteries and Atlan herself. ~
With its last words, the entity suddenly went supernova, its brilliance exploding outward in a dizzying display of power until it had completely consumed the surrounding darkness.
Colors danced around and through her in the radiance, their tendrils gliding over her like the reverent fingers of the devoted over a prophet.
Leta gasped as something pulled her consciousness back into her body. In her hands the sword vibrated, glyphs glowing a white-blue under the rock hard sediment.
The Blade hummed like an angry bee with a tone so loud some of the onlookers winced and covered their ears.
Clutching tightly, she watched as the ancient weapon’s long-standing filth and grime heated up, releasing a scent of burnt earth into the room as the sediment sizzled and steamed. Around the glowing glyphs, the stone began to turn orange and red as the weapon’s super-heated metal quickly turned the sediment to slag.
Goblets of liquid mineral dripped off the metal to hiss and burned the metal table until the grim that had coated it was literally burned away.
In her hand was…something.
It resembled a sword, clean and beautiful, and yet lacking detail. It looked more like an oversized toy than a weapon of war.
Her eyes fluttered; it felt like something tickled her brain and caused a shiver to run down her spine. She could feel the weapon’s hive mind integrating with Gada - the two separate entities but working in perfect tandem.
Leta shuddered as the Blade sifted through her memories and stored the echoes within itself among the copies of its other masters.
Thousands of years of memory flickered before her eyes as the weapon stretched outward in various directions like a cat waking from a map before it began to truly transform.
It molded itself into various weapons as if it were trying on clothes, changing into one form only long enough for someone to recognize what it was before it was changing again.
A sword.
A battle axe.
A dagger.
A bow.
A war hammer.
A flail.
A war hammer.
It was almost dizzying to watch the weapon change shape so quickly until it finally settled on a form that it liked.
From where she held it firm, the weapon pulled outward in opposite directions to form a pole shaft, one end expanding and sharpening to form a spear’s tip.
It was nearly seven feet tall from top to bottom and made entirely of a silvery metal with the faintest of blue toned waves running over it like Damascus steel, but in a very uniformed and geometric way that almost looked like circuit boards.
The spear tip was the length of her forearm and seemed to glow with its sharpness. On the blade just above the transaction, she recognized the Sumerian god star symbol.
Over the shaft, she could see Atlantian glyphs and geometric shapes that flowed as one with a mesmerizing beauty that was almost hypnotic.
Leta gazed at the weapon in her hand in awe, catching in the reflection the blue glow of her eyes on the spear tip. For all its mass, it was impossibly light in her hands, no heavier than holding a notebook.
The weapon hummed with the faintest line of white-blue light that promised to eviscerate anything that stood in its path of destruction.
And yet, it dulled only when she ran her fingers over the edge of the spear, never willing to harm its Master.
It was beautiful.
A kind of weapon that one only heard about in ancient sagas or sacred texts.
Leta placed the pole end on the ground and held it in a relaxed carry as if it were a quarterstaff, which made a metallic ‘thump’ against the stone floor.
Smiling as she beheld the weapon, she whispered to it, “I give you the name…Barzal. The White Light Before Dawn.”