And neither could the sword look away from him.
The room stayed quiet for a long time. Kieran lay there in his crib, tiny chest rising and falling fast. His heart beat hard inside his small body.
He stared at the blade on the pedestal, afraid to look away but even more afraid of what might happen next.
The candles flickered softly on the walls. Long shadows moved across the tapestries like they were alive. The air smelled of warm wax and cool metal, and it felt thick with something he could not name.
A few minutes dragged by. Kieran tried to calm his breathing. He felt scared, sure, but a spark of curiosity pushed through too. This was real. The sword had spoken. And somehow he could answer back.
Finally the sword's voice rumbled through the air again. Deep and rough, like an old man who had seen too much.
"How in all the blasted realms can you talk to me, whelp? No human has ever done that. Not a single one in my whole life."
Kieran's mind spun. He did not know the answer. Not even close. He pushed his thoughts toward the blade, careful and slow.
'I don't know. I really don't. I just woke up in this body and suddenly I could hear you. It's this strange power I have, I guess. I don't understand it at all.'
The sword stayed silent for another stretch. Like it was turning the words over in its head. When it spoke again, the voice came slower, almost thoughtful.
"Strange power, huh? I have waited a hundred years for anything like this. A hundred long years. I was forged in the great smithies of Azurith, far across the floating islands and the mist seas. The continent of Azurith. They made me to be a weapon, nothing more. But I became something else."
"I served a man who rose from nothing. A simple warrior at first. I helped him become the greatest sword master the continent had ever seen. We cut through battle lines together. We shattered stone and steel. He grew strong because of me. Or maybe we grew strong together. But never once did any human speak to my spirit. They grabbed me. They swung me. They cursed me when I felt heavy. They never listened."
Kieran listened hard. Every word sank in. A whole new world. A continent called Azurith. Swords that had spirits. Magic that healed babies and probably did a lot more. He felt a mix of wonder and nerves twisting in his gut.
This was bigger than he could wrap his head around. But he wanted to know more. He had to.
'Tell me about this place,' he thought. 'What is this world really like? I feel lost here. Everything is new.'
The sword gave a low chuckle. It sounded surprised, almost pleased.
"The whelp asks questions. Most humans just take what they want. You actually want to know. That is rare. This world runs on blade aura and cultivation. People train their bodies and minds until they can pull power from the air itself."
"They fly on swords. They split mountains if they get strong enough. The family you were born into, the Vales, they are minor nobility. They have a few decent blades and some land. Nothing grand. But they keep me hidden because I am picky. I do not let just anyone wield me properly. I wait for the right hand. The right heart."
Kieran felt a small warmth bloom in his chest. The sword was opening up. It was not yelling or ignoring him anymore. He shifted a little in the crib, his tiny arms waving once before they dropped back down.
Talking like this felt good. It made the fear ease off, even if just a bit.
'What do you mean by picky?' he asked in his mind.
'Do you choose who uses you?'
The sword paused again, like it was deciding how much to share. Its voice came back softer this time.
"Aye. Most blades are empty metal. I have a spirit. I feel everything. The swing, the blood, the intent behind every strike. I have turned away strong men because their hearts were rotten. I have gone dull in the hands of fools. But you... you are different. A baby who can speak to me. I do not know what to make of it yet."
They kept going like that for a while. Slow and careful. The sword asked questions back. Simple ones at first. How old are you in truth? Why do you sound so calm for a newborn? Kieran answered the best he could without giving away his old life.
He said he felt older than he looked. He said everything confused him right now. He kept it light. No details about California or the gang. Just enough to keep the talk flowing.
The sword shared more pieces of its past. How it had been passed from warrior to warrior after that first sword master fell in battle. How it had slept in dark vaults for decades at a time.
How it hated the silence but had grown used to it. Kieran listened and asked follow-up questions. What does blade aura feel like? How do people train to get stronger? The sword explained in its gruff way, but it sounded almost happy to have someone listening.
Time slipped by in the quiet room. The candles burned lower. Wax dripped in small trails down the sides. Kieran's tiny body grew heavy with tiredness, but his mind stayed wide awake.
This conversation felt like the first real thing since he woke up in this world. He was not alone in his head anymore.
After a long stretch of back-and-forth, Kieran thought one more time, warmth in the words.
'This is all so much to take in. But I am glad I can talk to you. Maybe this strange power is not so bad after all.'
The sword answered right away. Its voice had lost most of the edge now. It almost sounded friendly.
"Perhaps, whelp. Perhaps it is not bad at all. We will see where this leads."