There was silence in the dining room, the kind of silence that felt like a war was happening outside the walls, like the air itself knew something dangerous had entered the castle. Yade was jolted by the words Agarth had spoken. His face froze, his body stiffened, and the room itself seemed to pause. Only the soft sound of the candles burning filled the space.
"You… you know what you're saying, Agarth?" Yade finally said, staring straight into Norm's eyes. His voice held disbelief, fear, and a strange sense of respect. "These words… they feel like thunder to me."
"I do," Agarth replied in a deep, steady voice. "But as a friend, there are things I must ask you. And as a friend… you need to tell me the truth."
Yade swallowed, then nodded slowly.
"Come with me."
He stood from the long dining table, the chair scraping slightly against the marble floor. Agarth rose immediately after him, following as they walked deeper into the castle. Their footsteps rumbled through the empty hall, echoing along the stone walls. Agarth's armor creaked with every step, the dim torchlight gleaming across the metal.
Yade stopped in front of an old door—one Agarth had never been inside before.
The door creaked open like it hadn't been touched in years.
Inside was a library… a room filled with books stacked high, scrolls sealed with wax, maps drawn across old parchment. Dust drifted in the air, and the warm glow of torches revealed shelves carved with ancient symbols of the Thom bloodline.
Yade walked to a small wooden cabinet, grabbed a key from his necklace, and unlocked a heavy iron chest. He pulled out a thick leather-bound book… its cover marked with the symbol of Norm and Thom united, a mark that only few living men had ever seen.
"This," Yade said quietly, "this contains our true history… the one the world never learned."
He placed it on the table gently, like it carried the weight of every dead ancestor before them.
Yade prepared two seats—one for himself, one for Agarth. They sat. The room felt colder now, quieter… as if something unseen was watching.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
"So now you're saying…" Yade finally whispered, "after nearly a thousand years… a successor has finally arrived?" He pushed a cup of warm Erjin tea toward Agarth. Steam rose between them like a veil.
"Yes," Agarth answered. "The successor of the black sword." His eyes lowered. "I still don't know how… or why it happened. That's why I came. Tell me everything. Tell me about the rise of the flames of hope."
Yade sighed, leaning back.
"You know the stories of Norm, don't you, Agarth? The man no one dared to look in the eyes. The man armies feared. The one who shaped this world with his hands."
"I know most of them," Agarth replied quietly. "But I always believed most of them were made up."
"Well…" Yade looked at the ancient book as if it might come alive. "Most of them are lies. And you won't believe me when I tell you this… but Norm didn't die of old age." His voice deepened. "He was killed. Some say by his sins… some by his choices… but in truth? He fell because of the curse of the blade."
Agarth froze.
Yade continued, "We humans… we were outnumbered by the dark armies. And Norm's death saved us all—the blade created the boundary, stopping anything from returning to our lands. Only humans can walk freely now… nothing else."
Agarth clenched his fist slightly.
"How do you know this truth?" he asked.
"It's part of Thom heritage," Yade explained. "Norm fought with us, side by side. He wanted peace… not power. But the blade disagreed. It twisted him… made him ruthless, turned him into something beyond human. Even in his old age, he could wipe out armies alone."
Yade looked down as if remembering a burden older than himself.
"The greater the power… the greater the suffering. And the greater the torment."
Agarth swallowed. "His family? What of them?"
"The blade took everything from him," Yade said softly. "His wife, his parents… everyone. Only one child survived. That child had children of his own… before dying of illness. And now… that blood runs through you."
"I know," Agarth said, voice trembling slightly. "But why… out of so many generations… does the blade call out to my child? Why Aron?"
Yade looked him straight in the eyes.
"Because fate doesn't choose the strongest. Or the smartest. It chooses the one who will suffer the most. If Aron is chosen… then he is bound by destiny. Every mortal must face their sins. And the blade… it demands a price."
Agarth leaned forward. "What do you mean?"
"In simple words… the blade demands death in exchange for power. And if the successor can't control himself… he will lose everything. Because the blade represents balance. And balance always takes back what it gives."
Silence.
Yade inhaled deeply.
"What I'm trying to say is… save your son before it's too late."
"…It already is," Agarth whispered. His voice broke.
Yade's eyes widened. "What?! What do you mean?!"
"The future… it's already known," Agarth said slowly.
Yade stood so quickly that the cup of Erjin tea slipped from his hand and shattered against the ground.
"Agarth—what are you saying?!"
Agarth looked up with eyes full of sorrow.
"Aron told me not to search for the sword. He said… he would find it himself." His voice shook. "He told me it would be reckless for me. That only the successor can sense the blade."
Yade staggered backward.
"What does that mean? Speak!"
Agarth closed his eyes.
"I saw Aron… from the future."
Yade stopped breathing for a moment.
"He told me what happens," Agarth continued. "The kingdom destroyed… burned to ash. Darkness swallowing everything."
Yade's breath became heavy, sweat rolling down his forehead. Outside, rain struck the windows and thunder shook the entire castle.
"He told me we would all die," Agarth whispered, tears forming in his eyes. "You… me… everyone. He hugged me. He said he loved us all."
Yade collapsed back into his chair.
"…Then why did you come?" he asked softly.
"Because he told me to be ready."
"Ready for what?"
"Death. To fight it to the last breath. And not look back at regrets."
"…Regrets?" Yade murmured.
"Aron told me… prepare for war. A war we cannot avoid."
Thunder roared again, shaking the shelves.
"So tell me," Yade said slowly, "did Aron say anything about the blade itself?"
"Yes," Agarth whispered. "He held it. Its darkness surrounded him yet… he remained in control."
Yade closed his eyes.
"Then the blade… has found its true successor."
Agarth breathed out. "But how is Aron here—from the future?"
"It's all tied to the blade," Yade said. "Its powers awaken differently to each successor. And if Aron truly is the one… then the flames of hope will rise again. Life will spark outside our lands… but destruction will follow. Nations will fall. Including us… the Thoms."
The rain softened.
A calm began to return.
"Even if the future successor exists," Yade said gently, "we still live in the present. And in the present… we endure."
He placed a hand on Agarth's shoulder.
"You've raised your sons well. You're a great leader. Don't fear death. A true warrior doesn't."
Agarth looked down, exhaling deeply.
"What should I do, Yade?"
"Live. With your family. Whatever time you have left… spend it with them. That is peace."
He paused.
"And maybe… maybe you can still stop it."
"Stop who?" Agarth asked.
"Your son."
Agarth shook his head slowly.
"I love my family too much. For them… I would bring this world to the brink of death. I am Norm. Power and honor flow in my blood."
The thunder faded. The rain slowed.
And sunlight broke through the grey sky.
"It's time for me to go," Agarth said, standing.
They clasped hands—strong, tight, full of unspoken brotherhood. Then they hugged. A farewell between warriors.
Yade walked him to the stables. Agarth mounted his horse, his soldiers ready behind him.
"Goodbye, Yade."
The gates opened.
The horses roared forward, disappearing down the long road.
Yade watched until they became shadows.
"Maybe… that's what the future really is," he whispered to himself.