Blood And Light

The corridors of the palace had grown eerily quiet as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the walls bathed in flickering torchlight. Arthur walked briskly, his thoughts heavy with the events of the day. The council meeting, Prince Darius' firm belief in his sword, and the unsettling revelations in the library had left his mind in turmoil. Yet, one thing stood out: the mention of the "Echoes of Light" and the nagging familiarity it stirred within him.

Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that he had encountered the term before—not in the books he had read, but in the fragments of the old scriptures he had used during the sword's forging. Where those scriptures came from was a mystery he'd never solved. One night, years ago, he had returned to his forge after a long day to find the tattered texts left on his workbench. There was no note, no sign of who had delivered them. Even as he'd worked tirelessly to decode their cryptic language, much of their meaning had remained elusive.

The Echoes of Light were mentioned only once in those texts, described as fragments of power left behind by the Lumens, remnants capable of immense creation—or destruction. Arthur had dismissed it then as myth, an embellishment added to the stories of the champions. But now, hearing the term again from Roderic, he couldn't ignore the possibility that his sword might hold something far greater than he'd intended.

Arthur's path took him to the forge, the one place where his mind could find some semblance of clarity. The palace forge was far grander than the modest workshop he had back home, with walls lined with tools and rare materials he could only dream of having access to before. He set the sword on the anvil, its gleaming surface catching the light of the fire. The intricate runes etched into the blade seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive.

As he worked to sharpen and reinforce the weapon, his thoughts wandered to the kingdom. The unrest outside the palace walls had grown in the hours since King Argos' passing. Stories of madness spreading among the townsfolk had reached his ears. People who were once gentle and kind were turning cruel, their minds consumed by an overwhelming hunger for power and domination. It was as if something dark and insidious had taken root in the hearts of the weak-willed.

A sharp knock at the door broke his focus. Arthur turned to see Prince Darius entering the forge, his face set in a grim expression. Despite his youth, the prince carried himself with the weight of responsibility, his every movement deliberate and controlled.

"Arthur," Darius began, his voice low, "I need to speak with you."

Arthur wiped his hands on a cloth and nodded. "What's on your mind, Your Highness?"

Darius stepped closer, his gaze fixed on the sword. "The situation outside is deteriorating faster than we anticipated. There are… reports of people attacking their neighbors, driven by an unnatural rage. My advisors believe it's linked to the seal's breaking. Whatever darkness was contained within my father… it's spreading."

Arthur frowned, the weight of the words settling heavily on him. "If the seal's breaking is corrupting people, then we're dealing with more than just the threat of Argoth returning. This… this is something entirely new."

Darius nodded. "That's why I need your help. You're not just a blacksmith, Arthur. You've created something extraordinary. If your sword truly has the potential to combat this darkness, then you're a key part of our efforts to protect this kingdom."

Arthur hesitated. "Your Highness, I'm no warrior. I wouldn't even know where to begin."

"You don't need to be a warrior," Darius said firmly. "You need to be someone the people can look to, someone they can trust. I see that in you, Arthur. You're resourceful, determined, and you've already shown more courage than most men I know."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but Darius held up a hand. "I'm not asking you to fight armies or face Argoth alone. But I do need you to stand with me. The people need to see that we're united, that we're doing everything we can to protect them. Will you help me?"

Arthur studied the prince's face, searching for any sign of doubt. But Darius' eyes burned with conviction, and Arthur found himself nodding before he could think better of it. "I'll do what I can, Your Highness."

Later that night, Arthur returned to his quarters, the weight of his promise pressing heavily on his shoulders. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being drawn into something far larger than himself. As he lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind drifted back to the old scriptures. Where had they come from? Why had they ended up in his hands? And what secrets did they hold that he had yet to uncover?

Sleep came fitfully, his dreams filled with flashes of light and shadow, of voices calling out to him in languages he couldn't understand. When he woke the next morning, his resolve was firmer. If the Echoes of Light were real, if his sword truly held their power, then he needed to uncover the truth—for the sake of the kingdom, and for himself.