At his words, a labyrinth of black walls shot up from the ground. Keriya smacked into a barricade and barely had time to regain her balance before Necrovar was upon her, drawing his sword from its scabbard with enviable grace. Its blade was a dark silvery material. Its hilt was comprised of gleaming sable stone, carved with runes and inlaid with red gems.
“This is Nighttalon,” he said, pointing it at her as he advanced.
She swung her own sword with all her might. Even with the force she exerted, she couldn’t make Necrovar’s weapon—Nighttalon—waver from its path.
“It is a marvel of the old world,” he boasted. “Forged in dragonfire, enchanted to remain eternally sharp, and blessed by an oracle who foretold that it would be invincible.”
Keriya’s old sword could never stand against such a
