Powerstones and comments are greatly appreciated. And if you enjoyed it, add it to your library.
--<<>>--
I stared at my parents, waiting for an answer.
Unfortunately, they simply stared back.
Nobody said a thing.
The question about the halberd hung in the air like fog, and neither of them seemed in any rush to wave it away. Both of them had that neutral expression on their face when they were working.
Honestly? I could have pushed. Could have asked again, or have pointed out that bringing up a mysterious question and then going silent was a terrible conversation strategy.
But I didn't.
I'd learned, across two lifetimes, that people talk when they're ready. Pushing only makes them build higher walls. So I sat there, waiting. Giving them the space to think.
They turned towards each other and began to have one of those silent exchanges.
After a minute or so, they nodded.
My father stood, and my mother followed.
"Are you finished with your food, Rei?" She asked.
I glanced at my bowl. Still half-full. My stomach grumbled, as if yelling at me to tell, 'Nope, need more'.
But food could wait.
"Yes," I said, standing up.
Whatever they were about to show me was more important than dinner.
***
We walked in complete silence for a while.
Through the corridors of the eastern wing, past the central courtyard, past the gardens, and past the training grounds.
You might be wondering where we were going.
Good question. So was I.
My parents walked ahead of me, side by side.
From the general direction, I figured we were heading toward the honke, AKA the main building. The place where my father conducted clan business, received visitors, and presumably did whatever it was that clan leaders did when they weren't raising children who killed curses on their first day of training.
And I was right.
After a while, we reached it. Two guards stood by the main entrance.
When they saw my father and mother approaching, they bowed low and pulled the doors open without a word.
As my parents passed through, both guards looked down at me. Their rigid expressions softened, and jolly smiles appeared.
"Good evening, young master," one of them said warmly.
The other waved at me as if he was seeing the cutest thing alive.
I waved back. "Good work tonight."
Both of them froze.
They looked at each other, with the wide-eyed expression of two men who had just been personally acknowledged by a child who was only used to waving before.
Then they looked back at me, and their smiles had somehow doubled in size.
I smiled back and kept walking.
These guys really are like a bigger family, I thought. Every single one of them.
We entered the honke and walked through the main corridor. Past the meeting rooms, archive, and all.
Finally, we reached my father's office.
The room I'd been in once before, during my first official meeting with him.
My father walked behind his desk, reached beneath the desk's surface, pressed his hand against something, and pushed.
A panel in the wall behind his chair slid open.
That was unexpected.
A secret passage. Hidden behind the clan leader's chair, in the most secure room of the most secure building in the estate. Invisible unless you knew exactly where to look and exactly how to open it.
I stared at the dark opening.
How many more surprises does this family have?
My father turned toward us. "Follow me."
And we did.
The passage led to the stairs.
Narrow, steep, and carved from stone rather than built from wood. The air changed immediately, turning colder with each step down. Small lanterns hung from iron hooks along the walls at regular intervals, their flames barely enough to light up the steps in front of us. Just enough to keep you from falling.
The more we walked, the more the temperature continued to drop. Not like the sudden, cursed energy outburst I had back in the shed. This was more gradual.
We kept walking deeper and deeper.
The stone walls narrowed, and the lanterns grew fewer.
Finally, we reached the bottom, which was an iron door.
Set into the stone wall as if it had been forged there rather than installed. And on its surface, carved uniquely was a design.
A snowflake.
Not a simple one. Not the kind you'd see on a decoration or a piece of embroidery. This was layered. Each branch of the snowflake splits into smaller branches, which split into even smaller ones, creating a fractal pattern that seemed to go deeper the longer you looked at it, which my eyes allowed me to see perfectly.
My father stepped forward and knocked three times.
Then he leaned close to the door and whispered something. I could see his cursed energy shift as he spoke, flowing from his core to his lips, imbuing the words with energy.
The door opened.
And the moment we stepped through, I felt it.
Something was calling me.
Not a sound, not a voice, nor cursed energy, because if it were cursed energy, the Six Eyes would have picked it up long before we reached the bottom of those stairs. This was something else entirely. Something that bypassed my eyes and spoke directly to something deeper.
Something like a pull, or rather a connection.
What is that?
My father noticed my expression. He looked at my mother.
"Guess we were right."
She nodded back.
Hearing that, I realized, they'd been expecting this.
Yet again, I did not ask.
Just trust the process.
My father continued walking.
The room beyond the door was much larger than I'd expected. The ceiling was high enough that the lantern light couldn't reach it, leaving the upper half of the space in complete darkness. The walls were stone, which looked natural rather than carved, which meant this chamber wasn't built. This was an already existing cave.
From a shadowed alcove near the entrance, a figure emerged. Dressed entirely in dark clothing. Looking like a guardian of whatever lay ahead.
"Clan leader," the figure said, bowing low.
My father nodded and walked past without stopping.
The deeper we went into the chamber, the stronger the feeling grew. That pull in my chest.
And then the temperature dropped again.
Sharply this time. Enough that my mother's breath turned to fog. A visible shiver ran through her body.
My father glanced at her. "If you want, you can stay back."
She shook her head.
"I'm going to be with my snowflake."
There she goes again, I thought, and I couldn't stop the smile that formed.
I reached over and took her hand. Small fingers wrapping around hers. She looked down at me, surprised, and then smiled back.
We kept walking together as we finally reached the center of the chamber.
And there it was.
A raised platform of dark stone. On top of it sat an iron frame, reinforced at every joint, bolted to the stone beneath. Wooden covers enclosed whatever was inside, thick planks banded with metal. And layered over every surface, covering the wood, the iron, the stone, were talismans.
Dozens of them, overlapping each other.
Whatever was inside this container was powerful.
And it was calling to me.
My father gestured to two figures standing beside a pulley system mounted to the ceiling. Dark-clothed, same as the one at the entrance. They gripped the chains and waited for his signal.
He nodded, and they pulled.
The chains rattled as the wooden covers lifted. The iron frame split apart, panels folding outward like the petals of a mechanical flower. The talismans peeled away, their cursed energy flickering as the seals disengaged one by one.
And then I saw it, and my eyes went wide.
It was a halberd.
But calling it a halberd was like calling the sun a lantern.
THE IMAGE:(COMMENT)
The weapon stood planted in the stone platform, driven into it point-first, standing upright like a monument. It was enormous, taller than my father, with a shaft of dark steel so deep blue it was almost black. The surface of the blade wasn't smooth. It was ridged and covered in a pattern of crystalline thorns that spiraled upward like frost coming through a window.
But the main blade? That was something else entirely.
A massive crescent of ice-blue steel, curved with edges that tapered to points so fine they seemed to dissolve into the air. It wasn't a single blade but a constellation of them, the main axe-head flanked by smaller, spiraling fins that curved outward like frozen wings. Barbed spikes jutted from the spine where the blade met the shaft.
At the very top of the shaft, above the main blade, a secondary head emerged. A trident-like crown of curved prongs, sharp yet elegant, forking outward like the antlers of some sort of ancient god.
And the whole weapon breathed.
Not literally. But the cursed energy radiating from it was alive. It rolled off the steel in visible waves, a cold blue mist that spilled down the shaft and pooled around the base of the platform like dry ice.
It was the most beautiful and the most terrifying thing I had ever seen.
The pull in my chest was almost painful now. Every fiber of my being wanted to step forward. To reach out and grab it. To find out what would happen when we meet.
And surprisingly? The weapon wanted the same thing. I could feel it. Not intelligence, but a yearning that had been sealed in this vault for who knew how long, waiting for something, or rather someone.
The temperature plummeted further. My mother's shivering got worse.
My father noticed immediately and signaled the guardians.
They released the chains, and the halberd was covered yet again.
But I could still feel it. Even through the seals, that pull, that connection was still there.
I turned to my father.
"What was that?"
He looked at me for a long moment and said nothing.
Then he shook his head.
"I can't tell you. Not yet."
I tilted my head. "Then why show me?"
"Because of the rule," he said. "When you turn twelve, you will be permitted to touch this weapon. And when you do, you will be told everything. About it, our clan's past, and what it means."
He paused.
"Until then, you must wait."
Twelve...
That's eight years from now.
Eight years of knowing this thing existed beneath my feet. Eight years of waiting.
Eight damn long years.
I looked at the sealed container, feeling the pull.
Whatever you are, I thought, you'd better be worth the wait.
I looked back at my father.
"Understood."
He exhaled, clearly relieved I did not make a mess out of this by asking.
Maybe he expected me to push and demand answers. To maybe throw a tantrum, because that's what four-year-olds do when they're told they can't have something they want.
But I wasn't a normal four-year-old.
And I understood patience very well. I'd spent fourteen years in my first life waiting for an answer to a question nobody could answer.
Eight years? For something that felt like it was made for me?
I could wait.
"Good," my father nodded. "Let's go."
We turned and walked back toward the iron door. My mother held my hand the entire way, her shivering slowly fading as we climbed the stairs and left the cold behind.
As we reached the top and stepped back into my father's office, the warmth of the surface was back.
The secret panel closed, and the wall was sealed.
Looking at it, I had only one thought in my mind.
Eight years... Guess I'd better make them count.
--<<>>--
Eight years??? Holy that's a long time??
Now I have a queation. Would you like to read his childhood step by step, or a timeskip.
Me personally would like to cook this fanfic low and slow. But let me know your thougths.
(Timeskip.....)
or
(Let it cook low and slow)