Shadows

Chapter Four

The war sounded better.

My eyes drifted over to the sword. In truth I had forgotten about it, even though I had gotten it less than thirty minutes ago. Getting up I pulled my arms through the sleeves of the jacket, it smelled like him- I resolved never to wash it so I wouldn't lose the smell, and walked over to the sword. On the hilt was an engraving: |\| Death. A horrible and non-original name. Taking the sheath off of it I inspected it a little more, silver and black mixed together? Obsidian and- wait what would the silver be? I ran my fingers over it, smooth and sharp. So he loved this sword and yet he gave it to me? What exactly would I name you? I thought to myself, Your name would have to be important, and symbolic.

Running my thumb absentmindedly over the hilt, the life seemed to be sucked out of the room. It took me a moment to process images that were flashing in my head and I realized that I should probably lock my door, least Odin wander in drunker than earlier. I looked at the doorknob and heard the satisfying click of it locking. I had been using magic rarely since Vahaerion had d-I didn't think he was dead.

Quickly, I returned my attention to the sword. The fact that it was showing me images of everything it had seen astonished me, someone must have charmed it or it had been built with magical properties. And judging by the fact that it showed me when it was being forged made me assume that it was magical properties. One memory though caught my attention, it was The Savior. He was being run through by the sword. It should have come with no surprise to find out that The Savior was Damarion's brother, he did tell me he was The Stranger. But it surprised me nonetheless, I was meddling with the Gods of Astapor.

Someone was screaming, so many people were screaming. They were fighting but over what? Land? Power? Women? "Baegor!" I could see a young woman run up and pull the sword out of Baegor's shoulder, he gave a groan of pain. "Damarion's lost it Aenessa." His voice barely coming out as a whisper. Aenessa was frantically healing him with magic, tears pouring down her face, "You pushed him there!" She practically screamed at him, the wound healed. "How was I supposed to know he would start a war?" His iron curtain breaking and a flood of emotions sweeping his features. "YOU STOLE HIS THRONE!" She screamed at him as they quickly joined the battle again. Baegor was in possession of the sword now, left and right he swung always hitting his target and leaving them fatally wounded or dead. The sword cut straight through armor, steel, and flesh. Gruesome cuts appearing on their bodies, it didn't seem to faze him when their swords glanced off his skin, creating cuts where they landed.

A long shadow covered Baegor, a cold feeling crept up his back and he instinctively turned around to spot the threat. There was none. Not to the eye anyway. Grabbing a shield from the ground he prepared himself for an attack. Running towards the temple where his siblings were gathering the battle still raging around them on the stairs. He locked eyes with Varion, nodded and front flipped off a shield that one of his troops had offered after noticing the exchange.

The soldier got his head cut off by the enemy a moment later.

Sprinting through the masses, Baegor ditched the shield and ran, cutting down anyone in his way. Upon reaching the temple he shut the oak doors behind him, his siblings staring in shock at the altar. "What?" He asked, his voice a hiss. Vyserha pointed towards the alter and so Baegor got closer pushing his way through.

Damarion was on his knees in front of the corpse of his wife. She was beautiful, death only seemed to enhance her beauty. Red hair splayed around her head, blood splattered across her dress. She couldn't be saved; the spear had gone straight through her. It had been tossed carelessly to the side.

"Damarion we-" Baegor was cut off, "You couldn't have known? Of course you couldn't! I'm the only one who decided to study foresight! Lo-look at all the good it did me..." His voice was breaking. As Baegor approached his oldest brother, he realized, somewhat belatedly, that he was crying.

Rising Damarion took his cloak off and laid it over her. Turning, his eyes took on a malicious glint and he stared at Baegor. Before anyone could react the sword had flown across the floor and Damarion had Baegor in a chokehold a knife pressed to his throat.

A knife the same metal as the sword.

He raised an eyebrow and pushed the knife harder into Baegor's throat, as he continued to struggle. "Damarion. Please release Baegor. H-none of us knew this was going to happen." Aenessa begged, her eyes glancing to Varion. Damarion's eyes focused on his brother, "Well Varion? Anything to justify this?" His grip tightened on Baegor. "I did not wish for this war, you forget that. Baegor was the one who started it, he was the one who wished for your throne when he could have had it when you died." Varion stated, fiddling with an arrow in his quiver. Aenessa's eyes widened, and Damarion smirked. His face was covered in shadows and no light was in the room any longer, his aura giving off signs that he was feeding on the death and destruction around him.

He released Baegor and summoned his sword to his hand. Everyone but Baegor tensed. Sheathing his sword, Damarion moved to help Baegor up, when Baegor accepted the hand offered him a sickening crack sounded throughout the room. A muffled groan came from Baegor, due to the fact that Damarion was now holding him by his neck and off the ground. "Don't ever try to take what is mine or you will die." Damarion's voiced was laced with fury, dripping venom.

The memory ended. And I had a feeling that more than just a throne had been taken. Getting up I felt how heavy the sword was, it wasn't. It was the perfect weight for me which was odd considering the sword was as long as my leg. Turning the hilt in my hand, I felt a wash of cold air hit me and I knew that it was taking something from me. I let it, I had nothing left to fight for except myself.

The room grew darker than it was previously, the light of the moon seeping out. Even when I let go of the hilt I knew something was different, my body seemed to glow and buzz with dark energy. I touched the sword and no memories appeared. It was a blank slate again. Sheathing the sword once more, I hid it under my bed. I would practice with it tomorrow. Putting on a pair of trousers and a loose shirt, as well as a pair of boots, I opened my window and jumped down. Landing was going to be my favorite part of jumping now, it was a rush of exhilaration.

I walked over to the stables and prepared a horse for a ride, I should've sensed someone else in the stables. "What are you doing up?" It was Odin. "I couldn't sleep. Riding always clears my head." Both were lies but he did not call me on them, so I continued on with preparing my horse. As soon as I am done I can leave and not see him until morning, I thought to myself. "Let me ride with you. I hear it's dangerous at night here." He sounded so brave, and I laughed internally at him. "It is only dangerous for you, my prince. I mean you no offense, but you are from Asgard and many people lost relatives in the war." My voice did not betray the amusement I felt- or the anger. "Oh, no offense was taken. It was purely an honest answer." He had sobered up. Damn it. "May I ask why you are in the stables?" I asked him, this would be interesting. "I always found horse's beautiful creatures, being near them calms me." Oh. My surprise rolled off me in waves and I glanced over to where he stood.

"Hold on. I'll get my sword, traveling at night with steel is wiser than you may believe." I said before turning and walking back to the area I had landed at. Luckily there were vines growing on the side of the house there. Pulling myself up I continued to climb until reaching my room, where I promptly leapt from the vines to my window sill, barely making purchase on it with my fingers.

Pulling myself up I climbed back into my room and walked over to my bed. Grabbing the sword from under my bed I jumped out of my window again, Odin waiting at the bottom- he seemed not to mind my coming and goings. "Come along." My voice had taken a commanding tone that I did not usually use. Without watching Odin, I strapped the sword belt around my waist, and leapt onto my horse like it was a part of me; riding was a second nature to me just like sword fighting and talking. Maybe the hell I would be married into wouldn't be so bad.