Of course. You can call me Tauph, by the way. Let’s get out of here—it’s been far too long since we breathed the open air.

Casek made for the centre of the room, where rows of steel shelving sat, untouched for only the Gods knew how long, listening carefully to Tauph’s description of what he was looking for. An assortment of strange, dust-smothered objects filled the shelves. Many were crafted from steel or some other metal dulled from time, in odd shapes that made it impossible to divine the use of.

Others were made of grimy bronze or wood, and even a few mystery objects seemed to be carved from some sort of ivory or bone. Had he any idea what they might have been, he would have considered taking them. After all, it was almost impossible to believe that none of these things would be useful to him if he could work out how. With no pockets or bag to keep them in, however, he pressed on, rummaging through the shelves with increasing desperation.

Finally, a row of shelves in the dead centre of the room bore fruit. These were black, rather than the once-gleaming silver of steel, and were mostly barren, save for a handful of ornately carved boxes, black with gold trim somewhere beneath centuries’ worth of caked on dust and grime.

The first two he prized open, laying bare moth-eaten velvet interiors that had, perhaps, once been a spectacular ruby-red. They were empty of anything. He scrambled across to the third box along and grinned madly as he opened it to the sight of a delicate golden band inside. Crafted from two threads of the precious metal, someone had masterfully worked it into a pair of intertwined serpents, their backs lined with a series of dull, cerulean jewels.

He could feel Tauph’s elation at the corners of his mind. Put it on. Quickly!

The head of the snake clearly fastened to the tail, and Casek gingerly picked up the bracelet and clipped it onto his wrist. The effect was immediate. Deep in his core, he felt a distinct pull—as though something he’d never realised he possessed was being drained from him. Then a single jewel spluttered into life, producing a dull cerulean glow on his wrist.

“What now?” he asked, staring at the bracelet and waiting for something else to happen.

The next part is on you. I need you to imagine that inside of you, is a well. A pool of water waiting for you to draw upon it. When you put on the foci, you should have felt it draw from that well, yes?

“I did,” Casek said, frowning. “What is that I can feel? My memories are gone, but I still know things. I’ve never felt this feeling before.”

Power. The voice said, simply. When you were last awake, humans did not have the means to tap into their natural power, besides in very rare cases. You would probably call it magic, though that’s much too crude of a description. What’s important is that you can fight against the Shadow with it.

The incessant pounding against the door continued to swell the longer they spoke, with more and more of the creatures arriving to throw their weight against it. They had little time. Casek could see the door itself had begun to splinter and crack, massive fissures in the heavy wood that grew larger by the second.

“We might need to skip the history, and get on with the how,” he said.

Right. That water I told you to imagine? Try to direct it. Let it flow from the foci and shape it into your hand. Picture it forming a weapon—the one you are the most comfortable with, ideally. This foci is specifically designed to allow you to materialise a one-handed weapon, so don’t bother with something like a spear or two-handed blade, at least for now.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Casek did as he was bid. The flow of power was spring-water cool, and it was easy enough to direct it in the way he needed. For the briefest of moments, he tried to force it into a shape, and the power slipped through his grip entirely, forcing him to start again. When he grit his teeth for a second attempt, he forced himself to relax. He guided the flow rather than directing it, allowing the power to channel itself where and how he needed it.

A weapon sprang from his hand, viscous energy coalescing into a solid form in his right hand. He closed his grip around it instinctively, and the comfort of the grip surprised him—like the foci had moulded it specifically for his hand. He supposed, a wry smile forming on his face, that it technically had been.

It was a simple enough blade. Comfortable leather-wrappings around the hilt, with a plain, round steel guard. The blade itself had a gentle curve with a single cutting edge that gleamed black in the dim light. Simple, but beautiful.

The foci, as Tauph had called it, had changed too. The thin gold band was now set inside a black leather forearm guard that, to Casek’s eyes, matched the weapon perfectly. Its surface was a plain black, besides a neatly carved circle inlaid with the same luminescent gems that were embedded in the bracelet itself.

“Impressive,” Casek grunted, glancing back towards the weakening door.

Only a weapon created using a foci will harm The Shadow, it—

The voice stopped dead as one last crash finally shattered part of the door, and the quiet gibbering exploded into a violent maelstrom of triumphant howls. Shadowy limbs stretched into the room, tearing away strips of wood from the door, until one of the monstrosities made it through.

It cackled, its face staring hungrily at Casek, serpentine tongue flicking eagerly across serrated teeth. Somehow worse than any of it was that this creature gazed at him from a twisted face that had no eyes at all.

Shit. Essentials only, then. The jewels on your wrist serve as an indicator of how much power you have left. The more of them lit and the brighter they are, the longer you can fight for.

The shade launched itself at him before Casek could answer. He tracked its movement with a steely calm he hadn’t expected from himself. It was a clumsy attack, all gangling limbs and whirling claws. Fast and frightening to behold, but predictable.

He stepped forward into the flurry of attacks; the movement timed to perfection, and his right arm lashed out with a precision that spoke of thousands of hours of dedicated practice, none of which Casek remembered.

The black blade passed through the shade as though it were made of water, cleaving it neatly in two with one clean movement from left hip to right shoulder. It hissed and gurgled as oily black liquid bubbled from its mouth for only a split second before the shade burst into a dense violet cloud.

The strange mist hung heavy in the air, and then, not a moment later, began to shift and swirl, drawn to the blade that created it. The weapon seemed to absorb the mist, and Casek frowned as the lone jewel lit on his wrist seemed to grow slightly brighter.

A question for later. Three more shades streamed through the gap in the door, and this time, Casek moved to meet them. His movements were those of a well-trained swordsman. Drilled. Practiced. He carved them apart with little effort, his blade absorbing their essence as it had with the first.

It was not that he was a brilliant swordsman. He knew how to use the weapon to a reasonable standard. That much was clear. But his gut told him he was merely competent, and there was a feeling inside telling him that in his old life, he had seen several men capable of felling him with as much ease as he carved apart these shades.

Instead, it was simply that they were weak, just as Tauph had told him. More and more streamed through the door, and he cut every single one down in a single flowing movement that only ceased when the creatures hesitated at the door, no longer nearly so willing to step into the grinder.

Sweat coated his face, and he held his muscles taut to stop them from shaking so visibly from exhaustion. The shade in the doorway stared at him, the essence of its fallen kin still hanging in the surrounding air, drifting towards his blade, and he stared back, an easy meal no longer.

It ran, along with the others left outside the door, and Casek allowed himself to let out an unsteady breath. His sword faded into nothing, and he felt the pull on him disappear, leaving him panting. The noise filled a silence that hadn’t existed in the building since the shades had first entered it, and Casek gave himself a moment to get his breath back before straightening and making for the door.