Darian had already extended both hands. Kára tried to stop him, but it was useless. His fingers closed around both hilts at the same time. The long sword and the short sword. Light and shadow. The world split in two.
Darian was no longer in the forge. He stood in a circular clearing. But it was an impossible clearing. The left half was bathed in an eternal dawn. Soft grass, white flowers swaying without wind, warm golden light. The right half was endless night. Twisted trees, dark mist crawling along the ground, a violet moon hanging high above. He stood exactly at the center. One foot in the light, the other in the shadow. Absolute silence. No birds, no wind, no insects. But he wasn't alone. He knew it.
From the illuminated half of the clearing, a figure emerged. A majestic white stag, but its body was not flesh and bone. It was pure light, white and golden, like the first rays of dawn captured in animal form. Its antlers glowed faintly, like branches of liquid light. It hovered just above the grass, its hooves never touching it. Its eyes were completely black, like the night sky, with a white pupil shining at the center like a solitary star.
Darian felt a gentle warmth in his chest. A calm that wasn't his, yet wrapped around him.
From the dark mist of the right half, a second figure emerged. A black panther, powerful and fluid, made entirely of solid shadows and twisting smoke. It couldn't stay still. It paced in circles, sometimes crouching as if ready to pounce on an invisible prey, other times rising briefly onto its hind legs before moving again. Its eyes were white like two cold moons, with a tiny black pupil at the center. At its feet, the dark mist crawled in all directions.
A chill ran down Darian's neck. His pulse quickened without reason.
The panther spoke first. Its voice was sharp, fast.
—He's here. Took longer than I expected.
The white stag replied with a serene whisper.
—@ # $ % & *, be patient. Humans do not measure time as we do.
Darian frowned. A sharp interference, right where a name should have been. The rest he understood clearly.
The panther laughed.
—He smells strange. Like a grimoire. Like something old. Power he doesn't understand. Do you feel it too, #* Δ?
Another interference. The name still wouldn't come through.
—I do —the stag replied—. That's why we're here.
Darian stepped forward. His voice sounded steadier than he expected.
—Who are you? Where am I?
The panther tilted its head.
—He speaks. Good. I thought he only knew how to stay quiet and suffer.
—You are in the Plane of Steel, Darian —said the white stag—. The place where weapons decide whether they accept their wielder.
The panther crouched low, its shadowy tail swaying.
—Ask him the usual. About blood. About revenge.
—No, @ # $ % & *. That's your question. Mine is different.
The white stag approached. The warmth in Darian's chest intensified.
—Why do you seek the truth about Saron?
Darian took a deep breath. He closed his eyes for a moment. He saw the city of Sarion. Clean water canals. Ordered plazas. People laughing. He saw Lireth, pregnant, gently stroking her husband's hair. They were not monsters. They were people. And if that was a lie, then what else was?
He opened his eyes.
—Because I grew up hearing that the Human Hero saved the world. That demons were monsters. But I saw Saron's memories. I saw his city. I saw his pregnant wife. They weren't monsters. They were people. And if that's a lie, then what else is? I need to know.
The white stag observed him. The panther had gone still for the first time.
—You don't seek blood —the stag finally said—. You seek light in the darkness. I accept you, Darian.
It paused. Then said something more.
—@ # $ % & *
The sounds slipped through Darian's mind like water through his fingers. But the meaning reached his chest without passing through his ears. Light. Guidance. Calm.
The panther rose onto its hind legs and dropped back down.
—My turn, # * Δ. Who do you want to kill, Darian? Give me a name. Just one. And I'll chase them to the ends of the world.
Darian felt the panther's cold breath at the back of his neck. It smelled like ozone and wet earth.
—The instructor who laughed at you? The guard who looked at you with pity? The one who made you feel useless? Give me one.
Darian saw his childhood. The mockery. The whispers. Eight years of frustration. He saw it all—and let it go.
He opened his eyes.
—No one. I don't want to kill anyone. I want to protect those I care about.
The panther went very still. It tilted its head.
—Did you hear that, @ # $ % & *? He said no one.
—I heard —the stag replied.
—That's strange. Humans always want to kill someone.
—He is not like the others.
The panther snorted, then laughed.
—Good. I like you, strange human. You don't want to kill—but I do. When you need to bite, to chase, to hunt… call me. I accept you, Darian.
It spoke its name.
—# * Δ
Darian didn't understand it either. But the meaning struck him all the same. Shadow. Hunt. Never let go.
—I don't understand your names —said Darian—. I can't hear them.
Both stepped in front of him. Light to the left. Shadow to the right.
—You have passed our trials —said the white stag.
It paused.
—My name is Lumine.
This time, Darian heard it. No interference. The name resonated in his chest like a soft bell.
The panther smiled.
—I am Nox.
Clear. Complete. A sharp whisper, but distinct.
Darian took a deep breath.
—Lumine. Nox.
Both nodded.
Lumine lowered her head. Her antlers of light nearly touched the ground.
—We are broken, Darian. Like you.
Nox shifted, its misty tail lashing the air.
—We saw things. The war. Saron. The Demon King. But the images break. They blur. We don't know what was real.
Lumine lifted her gaze.
—As you grow in power, we will remember. The Grimoires are not only yours. They are ours as well.
Darian felt his stomach twist. They were trapped too. They were searching too.
The clearing began to fade. Lumine and Nox turned translucent.
—When you're ready, we'll tell you more —said Nox, already distant—. But first, you have to earn it, strange human.
—Wake up, Darian —whispered Lumine—. Light and shadow. We are the edge of the same blade.
Darian opened his eyes.
The heat of the forge struck his skin. He blinked. Sweat ran down his temple. His breathing was heavy. His hands still gripped both hilts. The auras of the swords had calmed, but now they pulsed in unison with his heart.
—Lumine —he murmured, looking at the long sword.
—Nox —he said, looking at the short sword.
Both vibrated softly in response.
Kára watched him, eyes wide.
—Two. They both accepted you. At the same time. That has never happened before.
Varkas, from his place, looked at him with pride and concern.
—Pup… what are you, really?
Darian didn't answer. He could feel Lumine and Nox within him. Two presences. One warm, one cold. Balanced.
Vael, from his shoulder, rubbed his head against Darian's cheek, letting out a soft sound.
Bram, from his corner, muttered to himself.
—By my ancestors' beards. Three soul-bound weapons. And a boy wielding two at once. This is like the old songs.
Darian looked at his hands. The two swords now rested in his lap, their auras pulsing in time with his heart. Lumine and Nox. Light and shadow.
Deep in his mind, Lumine's words echoed:
We are broken, Darian. Like you.
And for the first time in a long while, Darian felt that he wasn't alone. They needed answers too. They were broken too.
Just like him.