The reforging took place at dawn, when Verithax's ancient magic was strongest and the boundaries between realms were thinnest. Thane stood in the center of the dragon's ritual circle, Dawnbreaker held across his palms like an offering.
"Once this begins, there is no turning back," Verithax warned, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "The sword will be unmade completely before it can be reborn. For a moment, you will be defenseless in ways that transcend the merely physical."
"I understand," Thane replied, though he wasn't entirely sure he did. The dragon's explanations of the process had involved concepts that seemed to exist beyond normal language—ideas about the fundamental nature of existence and the bonds between souls that mortal minds weren't equipped to fully grasp.
The other survivors stood in a circle around the ritual space, their faces reflecting mixtures of awe and concern. Derek Ironhold clutched the hilt of a borrowed sword with his remaining hand, ready to defend Thane if something went wrong. The others had arranged themselves according to their former specializations—warriors on the outer ring, mages and healers closer to the center, scouts and support personnel watching the approaches.
Even in their desperate circumstances, they'd automatically fallen into the formations they'd been trained for. It gave Thane hope that the institutional knowledge of their Orders hadn't been entirely lost.
"Begin when ready," Verithax rumbled, settling into the precise position required by the ancient ritual. Dragon magic was older than human civilization, its techniques refined over millennia of practice.
Thane closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, feeling for the familiar presences of his brothers' spirits. They were there, gathered around him like invisible guardians, their essence somehow woven into the very metal of his blade.
We're ready, Captain Aldrich said softly. Whatever happens, know that serving beside you has been an honor.
Don't get all sentimental on us now, Marcus added with forced levity. We're about to become part of the most legendary sword in history. I plan to enjoy the experience.
Verithax began to breathe dragon fire—not the wild, destructive flames of battle, but a controlled stream of creative force that could reshape reality itself at the molecular level. The fire surrounded Dawnbreaker in a cocoon of golden light, and Thane felt the weapon beginning to dissolve in his hands.
It should have been painful, watching his most treasured possession unmade before his eyes. Instead, he felt a strange sense of completion, as if everything had been leading to this moment. The sword's physical form was disappearing, but something deeper—its essential nature, its history, its connection to the ideals it represented—was being preserved and transformed.
The spirits of his fallen brothers became visible as the reforging progressed, their forms outlined in silver fire as Verithax's magic gave them temporary substance. One by one, they stepped forward to touch what remained of the dissolving blade, adding their own essence to the transformation.
Captain Aldrich brought his tactical wisdom and unshakeable leadership. Sergeant Korven contributed his loyalty and protective instincts. Marcus offered his courage and adaptability. Master Korvan added his knowledge of magical theory and artifice. And dozens of other spirits—Runeguards who had died over the years, their essence somehow drawn to this moment of renewal—each contributed something unique to the growing matrix of power.
The blade reformed slowly, its new shape emerging from the dragon fire like a flower blooming in fast motion. But it was no longer quite a sword—instead, it had become something between a weapon and a talisman, its metal shot through with veins of silver and gold that pulsed with inner light.
"It is done," Verithax announced, the dragon fire fading to reveal the completed transformation. "Behold Oathkeeper—a blade that carries within it the essence of every Runeguard who has ever lived, and the potential for every one who will come after."
Thane reached out hesitantly, then grasped the weapon's new hilt. The moment his fingers touched the metal, he felt a rush of connection that nearly knocked him off his feet. Not just his original brothers-in-arms, but hundreds of other voices—Runeguards from across the centuries, all somehow preserved within the weapon's transformed matrix.
But more than that, he could sense empty spaces within the blade's structure—places where new spirits could be added, new voices joining the eternal brotherhood. This wasn't just a weapon for him to wield, but a legacy that could be passed down through generations of defenders.
"The blade will grow stronger with each worthy soul it touches," Verithax explained. "And those who prove themselves in service to the New Guard will find their own essence added to its power when their time comes. In this way, no hero need ever truly die, and no knowledge need ever be lost."
Derek stepped forward, his eyes wide with wonder. "May I...?"
Thane nodded, extending the blade hilt-first toward his fellow survivor. The moment Derek's fingers touched the metal, his expression changed to one of profound awe.
"I can hear them," he whispered. "All of them. They're offering guidance, sharing techniques I'd never learned..." He looked up at Thane with tears in his eyes. "Brother, this is beyond anything our Orders ever achieved. This could change everything."
"That's the idea," Thane replied, though he was still adjusting to the constant presence of so many voices in his mind. The spirits weren't overwhelming—they'd learned to organize themselves, speaking only when they had something useful to contribute. But their combined knowledge was staggering.
One by one, the other survivors approached to touch the blade, each emerging from the experience with new understanding and renewed purpose. The weapon served as a conduit, allowing the accumulated wisdom of the old Orders to flow into those who would build the new.
"What now?" asked Elena Brightward, a former mage-knight whose magical focus had been destroyed during her captivity. "We have the inspiration and the knowledge, but we still need resources, facilities, recruits..."
"We start small," Thane decided, the words coming from some combination of his own thoughts and the spirits' counsel. "Find places where we're needed, help where we can, and let our actions speak for our ideals. People will come to us when they see what we're trying to build."
"And if the authorities object to our reconstruction efforts?" Derek asked. "Many of the kingdoms' rulers were suspicious of the old Orders even before the corruption crisis. They may not welcome our return."
Show them results, Captain Aldrich's spirit advised. Prove that you're not seeking power for its own sake, but to serve the greater good. The rest will follow.
"We prove ourselves through service," Thane said aloud. "We protect those who can't protect themselves, we stand against threats both mundane and magical, and we do it all openly. No secret agendas, no hidden knowledge, no claims of special authority. We earn our place through our actions."
The discussion continued through the morning as they planned their next steps. Some of the survivors would return to their home kingdoms to begin recruitment and establish local chapters. Others would remain with Thane to form the core of the new organization. All would carry with them the knowledge and inspiration they'd gained from touching the reforged blade.
As the sun reached its zenith, Verithax announced that he had one final gift for the nascent New Guard. "Your old fortress was indeed corrupted beyond saving, but its foundations remain sound. With some... renovations... it could serve as your headquarters once again."
He led them to the edge of his lair, where they could look down into the valley that had once housed the Runeguard stronghold. Where twisted ruins had stood the day before, construction was now underway—but construction unlike anything Thane had ever seen.
Dragons worked alongside human laborers, their fire shaping stone with impossible precision while their strength moved materials that would have required teams of oxen. The architecture taking shape below was both familiar and revolutionary—clearly influenced by Runeguard traditions, but incorporating design elements from all the other Orders as well.
"The dragon council has voted," Verithax explained. "We will support your New Guard, both in construction and in training. The corruption crisis reminded us that the fate of mortals and dragons is intertwined. Your success serves our interests as well."
Thane stared down at the construction site, hardly believing what he was seeing. "How many dragons...?"
"All of us who remain in this realm. Eighteen ancient wyrms, each with our own specializations and knowledge to contribute. Your recruits will have access to teaching that no previous generation of heroes has ever received."
The magnitude of what they were building began to sink in. Not just a revival of the old Orders, but something genuinely new and unprecedented—a partnership between mortal defenders and ancient dragons, united by shared purpose and mutual respect.
"There's one more thing," Thane said, an idea forming in his mind. "The blade carries the spirits of fallen heroes, preserving their knowledge for future generations. What if we could extend that principle? What if the New Guard could become a repository for all the wisdom and techniques that have been lost over the years?"
"You're talking about something like a living library," Derek mused. "A place where knowledge could be preserved not just in books, but in the experiences of those who lived it."
The concept has merit, Master Korvan's spirit observed. But it would require careful management. Too much accumulated knowledge could overwhelm newer members.
"We'll figure out the details as we go," Thane decided. "The important thing is that we're thinking beyond just rebuilding what was lost. We're creating something better."
As they prepared to descend into the valley and join the construction efforts, Thane felt a sense of completion that had nothing to do with endings and everything to do with new beginnings. The Void Cult had been stopped, the immediate crisis had passed, and now the real work could begin.
The world would always need defenders. But for the first time in his life, Thane was confident that there would always be those ready to answer the call.