Darian staggered. The world spun around him, and only Varkas's steady arm kept him from collapsing face-first onto the stone floor. "Easy, pup. It's over." From his shoulder, Vael let out a low, worried sound. The small dragon pressed his head against Darian's cheek.
Kára dropped onto a wooden stool. Her face was pale, covered in cold sweat. Her silver hair clung to her forehead. The ritual had completely drained her. She reached out with a trembling hand toward a ladle of water and drank greedily. "Three Awakenings in a row… I've never done anything like that."
Varkas leaned against the stone wall and slid down until he was sitting. His breathing was heavy, but a new spark shone in his yellow eyes. Rakshar was there. Crouched. Alive.
Darian remained silent. His mind was still trapped in the divided clearing. He could feel them deep in his chest. Two presences. One warm. One cold.
Elias stood at the entrance, observing, the white owl perched on his shoulder. The bird slowly turned its head, following the auras of the swords with its dark eyes. The scholar said nothing.
Bram stirred the embers of the furnace one last time. Then, as he slowly put away his tools, he began to murmur to himself. "Three soul-bound weapons… and a boy who wields two at once…"
Kára looked up. "What did you say?"
The old blacksmith lit his pipe with trembling hands. "Old songs from my clan. Tales the elders used to sing to entertain the young around the fire. I never gave them any credit. They were exaggerated stories."
Elias stepped forward. "What kind of tales?"
Bram took a drag. "They spoke of weapons that chose their owners. Of warriors who could hear them in their minds. Of pacts between steel and soul." He shook his head. "I always thought they were metaphors. Lessons about honor. I never imagined they were real."
He paused. His eyes fixed on the swords still resting on the table. "There's a very old song. It tells of a traveler who passed through these mountains centuries ago. He seemed human, but in songs there's always something that doesn't quite fit. Something strange."
Kára frowned. "What kind of traveler?"
"He carried two swords. One of light. One of shadow. He observed the forges, asked strange questions about how we imbue magic into metal. And then he left. The song calls him 'The Stranger of the Two Blades.'"
Silence fell over the forge like an anvil. The heat of the furnace seemed to fade. Even Vael stopped moving.
A chill ran down Darian's neck. Lumine and Nox. Light and shadow. Just like the traveler in the song. "Who was he?" he asked.
Bram shrugged. "No one ever knew. Some said he was a wandering spirit. Others, a demon in disguise. But he never harmed anyone. He only watched… and left."
Darian's gaze shifted to the table. To his swords. Their auras pulsed softly, as if they were listening too.
He stepped away from the group. He took both swords from the table—the long one and the short one—and carefully sheathed them on his back. As they touched his body, their auras vibrated like a greeting.
He walked to a corner of the forge and sank against the stone wall. Vael curled up in his lap. Darian ran a hand over his blue scales. He closed his eyes. The inner space opened.
Lumine was there. The white stag of light watched him with black eyes and white pupils. "You've come. The thread continues to weave."
Nox emerged from the mist. The black panther paced in circles. "Took you long enough. Are you always this slow?"
Darian exhaled. "I just awakened you. You could give me a break."
"A break? That's for the living."
"Nox," Lumine intervened, "let him be. He's tired."
"I'm tired too. And I don't complain. Well… a little."
Darian shook his head. "Are you both alright? The ritual was intense."
Lumine nodded. "Exhausted. But present."
"It hurts to be born," Nox added. "Wouldn't recommend it."
Darian looked at them. Light and shadow. Calm and chaos. "Thank you. For accepting me."
Lumine bowed her stag head. "It was not a choice. It was destiny."
"What she means," Nox cut in, "is that we liked you. You don't kill for pleasure. That's rare."
Darian raised an eyebrow. "You kill for pleasure?"
"I do. She doesn't. She's boring."
"I am patient," Lumine corrected. "Not boring."
Darian couldn't help the hint of a smile. "Bram mentioned a traveler. With two swords like you. Light and shadow."
Lumine lowered her head. Nox stopped moving. "We don't remember," Nox said. "There's fog where memory should be."
"Light where certainty should be," Lumine added.
"Do you think that traveler was Sarion?"
Silence.
"Perhaps," Lumine said. "When you grow stronger… we will know."
"So I need more Grimoires."
"Yes," Nox replied. "More power. More memories. More hunting."
"Not everything is hunting, Nox."
"For you, maybe. For me, it is. Can we hunt something already?"
Darian sighed. "There's nothing to hunt here."
Vael lifted his head. In the inner space, it was as if he was there too. Watching.
Nox froze. "That thing is staring at us weird."
"It's a dragon. His name is Vael."
"Can we hunt it?"
"No."
"Are you sure, Lumine? It smells like power."
"We do not hunt allies, Nox."
"Fine. We won't hunt it. For now."
Darian rolled his eyes. "You're something else."
"We're your something else," Nox replied.
"And you are our bearer," Lumine concluded. "The thread binds us."
Darian opened his eyes. Elias stood in front of him. "Are you alright?"
"Yes. Empty. But fine."
"We need to move. Aria is waiting for us."
Kára rose with effort. "How do you plan to reach the Elven Kingdom?"
Elias nodded. "Disguised as hooded merchants. It's common along the elven routes."
Varkas crossed his arms. "We need supplies. Elven cloaks, forged scrolls, silver root essence."
"In Khazad-Val you can find everything," Kára said. "But it takes gold."
"I have savings," Elias replied. "Enough."
Varkas lowered his head. "We'll get everything today. We leave at dusk."
Kára stepped away from the anvil. Her violet eyes shone. "I'm coming with you. I have no one here."
Darian looked at her. "You're welcome."
Bram extinguished the furnace. Before leaving, he ran a finger across the table where the swords had rested. "The Stranger of the Two Blades… who would've thought."
Darian adjusted the swords on his back. The weight was real. He felt Lumine's soft warmth and Nox's piercing cold. Alive. Awake.
"Rest when you can," Lumine whispered.
"Or don't. That way you suffer more," Nox added.
"Nox."
"I was joking. Half joking."
Vael jumped onto his shoulder and curled against his neck. Darian rested a hand on his head.
The group left the forge. The streets of Khazad-Val welcomed them with the sound of hammers and the smell of coal.
Aria was waiting for them in the north. And time was running out.
Darian quickened his pace. The swords weighed on his back—but no longer like a burden. Light and shadow. Calm and hunt. He was not alone.
None of them were.