Ruins And Royalty

A Weapon Worthwhile - Chp 8 Part 3

A golden orb of light rose from the still waters, casting a soft peach glow across the horizon. I stood atop the surface as if it were solid ground, my feet unmoving yet not sinking into the mirrored water beneath me. The world stretched endlessly in every direction, and I strained to comprehend the expanse around me, searching for some anchor, some sense of reality.

“Aaron.” A whisper floated through the air, so faint it barely disturbed the calm. I swung my head toward it, startled, and froze at the sight before me.

A wisteria tree of purest white stood on a tiny island, petals outlined in shimmering gold, catching the low sun like flecks of liquid light. Step by careful step, I moved across the water, drawn to it yet cautious, unsure of where I was... or how I had come to be here.

The closer I drew, the more the blossoms seemed to glow, a serene brilliance that pressed into my chest, filling me with an almost unbearable calm. I reached out instinctively, longing to touch the delicate petals.

The moment shattered. Thunder bellowed and the sky darkened in an instant. Behind me, black clouds rolled forward, lightning tearing through the heavens as heavy rain began to fall. Panic clamped down on my chest, the weight of it pressing so fiercely I could barely draw a breath.

I woke with a start, sweat-soaked silk clinging to my skin. My hands rubbed my eyes, disbelief and exhaustion warring in my mind. Slowly, clarity returned. It had been a dream, but not a nightmare in the usual sense. Worse visions of the Forbidden Forest haunted me, yet this one felt different, as if it were trying to show me something I did not yet understand.

I lay back down, taking a slow breath to steady my mind, and as I turned toward the edge of my bed, my gaze fell on the hollowed eyes of the wooden nightingale I had carved.

It had been several days since I began training privately with Sir Damos in the barracks, endlessly striking the wooden post with the two gladiuses. Repetitive, exhausting, and tedious but I had held my doubts in check, trusting his guidance. Gradually, the motions became less forced; dual wielding started to feel natural, the grip and flow of the swords settling into my hands.

“Good. You’re picking up quickly how to wield two swords at once,” my trainer observed. I let out a quiet sigh of relief as I withdrew one blade from the deeply scarred post.

“Does that mean I can give this poor pole a break?” I asked with a faint smile, nodding toward the gashes etched into the wood.

“Yes,” he replied. “But don’t get too comfortable. You still have a long way to go, Nightingale.”

I nodded, acknowledging the truth in his words. Though circumstances made me desperate to master the Chakrams as soon as possible, I knew rushing would be pointless. If I wanted to face what awaited me, I had to learn properly or everything I did would be wasted.

“Your next set of training will be similar to what you just did, but without an object in front of you,” Sir Damos said, crossing his arms, watching me closely.

“Excuse me?” I asked, bewildered. The thought of swinging my swords through empty air felt absurd.

“Ready your stance and swing as if you were striking the wooden post,” he explained, stepping beside me to demonstrate. He moved with precision, showing how my feet, hips, torso, and shoulders should work together in a fluid motion. “This will build your agility and speed.”

I mirrored him, slicing through the air with my blades. The movements felt strange without resistance, yet there was a rhythm to it, a weightless kind of challenge. It was similar to basic weapon training, but I couldn’t help questioning how mastering dual gladiuses would prepare me for the Chakrams. Surely the circular blades would demand an entirely different skill set.

“Good,” Sir Damos said finally. “Keep this up, and you will be ready to train with the Chakrams sooner than you think.”

I nodded, though a flicker of doubt lingered. I had no choice but to trust him and hope the effort would pay off when it mattered most.

The practice came to an end and before I could exit the barracks Sir Damos stopped me.

“Nightingale, I do not know what the reason is that made you decide to wield the enchanted Chakrams, but know this, if you do not fully except the enchantment, the weapon will reject you.” The man explained in a serious tone gazing straight into my soul.

“What do you mean?” I asked surged with curiosity, listening intently.

“Not just anyone can pick up an enchanted weapon and use it, boy.” He explained as we started to walk across the courtyard of the barracks, “It binds with your soul.”

My eyes visibly flared, surprised at how in-depth the magic was and an easy feeling tugged at my spine.

“I don’t understand.” I replied with the confusion showing on my face, hoping he would give me better information so that I could have a better idea of what to expect.

“If you have completely mastered the arts of dual wielding with Chakrams, I will pass my enchanted ones over to you, thus ending my bond with them in the hopes that one will be made with you.” He began to explain firmly, “I will cut your hand with a dagger and drip your blood over the ancient text speaking your name, claiming you as its new owner…”

That took a much darker turn than I expected. I stopped dead in my tracks, peering at him suspiciously.

“The ancient text will glow and transport the patterns up your arm, the same as it did mine and seal the deal.” He added watching my reaction closely.

“Is this all really necessary?” I scoffed, not really sure what to make of all this.

“Indeed, it is. Do you still want to continue with your training?” He asked calm and casual, as if to test me.

“Yes.” I answered confidently; this was the only way.

“Good.” Sir Damos stated as he continued walking again, “Just one more thing, Nightingale.”

“Yes?” I asked holding my breath.

“The process can be quite painful if the enchantment rejects you.” He added lastly with a smirk, “Good day and see you tomorrow at the Arena…”

I watched as the man walked off, leaving me baffled behind in the dust and under the scorching sun with more questions than before. Was this some tactic to scarce me?

The process of which was explained to me was exactly why I did not mix myself with spell working or any sort of magic of any kind. Bonding my soul to and enchanted weapon by smearing my blood all over it seemed devious and that of dark magic.

Regardless, I’ll do what I’ll have to as long as it brings me closer to slicing the throat of Hyathene, taking back the amulet and restoring it in the Solovey Woodlands. Or just keep it for myself, for all the trouble I’ve been put through.

I finally reached the exit, ready to continue my daily routine, though my head was spinning and the weight of expectation pressed down on me. The thought of the enchanted Chakrams loomed large; what if they rejected me? What if I hadn’t fully accepted magic by the time Sir Damos deemed me ready to wield them?

Turning a corner onto an exposed hallway, I froze. There, leaning casually against the railing, was my youngest brother, Kalmin.

“So, I see you’re after an enchanted weapon,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “And judging by the look of you, training harder than ever.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Is that what you do all day? Spy on people and gather gossip? Is that how you know everything about everyone?” I snapped, striding past him, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Perhaps…” he replied, trailing me with that infuriatingly cheeky smile.

“What do you want, Kalmin?” I asked bluntly, picking up my pace. I wasn’t in the mood for another round of discouraging news, like last time at the Royal Bathhouse.

He fell into step beside me, suddenly serious. “I have some information I think you’ll want to hear, Brother.”

I glanced at him sharply, bracing myself. “Alright. Let me hear it then.”