Tell me… please… what do I have to do?

  He glanced down at his hands… and yes, even in the darkness that surrounded him in every direction, he could still see them. Not far away, he spotted a subtle blue sphere of light, with particles gently rising from its surface. It pulsed like the heart of a living creature, and as Yig moved closer, he could feel the warmth of a living spirit.

  “I know I’m not the one you’ve been waiting for. But please, help me. For her—please help me. I’ll treat you like she would have.”

  The sphere’s next few pulses grew stronger, its warmth intensifying. Yig reached out, hand trembling, and with his fingertip, tapped the surface of the sphere.

  Yig clenched his fist around the hilt of the sword and pulled it free with passion, sending shards of ice scattering. The battle came to a halt, and the fiend turned its head. Yig raised his new weapon and pointed.

  “You deserve a strong hand to take you where you need to go. If you follow me, I think we can push each other forward. I know I’m not the one you were waiting for… but maybe I can be the next best thing. Do you agree?”

  The fiend’s expression bent into a smile—not one of sadistic joy, but of excitement. Slowly, it began to glow. Blue dust flaked from its body, swirling around the sword. As it did, warmth spread through the cave. The ice began to melt into soft streams, and moss and flowers grew along the once-barren rock.

  Soon, the fiend had completely deteriorated—but its essence continued to swirl around Yig and the sword, merging into the cyan blade.

  “Yig?” Shack said. “What in the world…?”

  The cyan blade shone even brighter, its color nearly bursting with light. As the last of the dust sank into it, the fiend’s final roar echoed through the now-lush cave. The ominous tension lifted, replaced by the distant chirping of birds from outside.

  Yig felt the sword grow lighter in his grip, and an uncomfortable tingle radiated through his right forearm. He didn’t dare remove the bandage to check—afraid his friends would see the glow and panic.

  “The cave looks nice like this,” Jordan observed. “But there was something about that dangerous evil cave look that I liked.”

  Shack still seemed to be processing. “Did you kill it? Or… something else?”

  Yig smiled, eyes on the sword. “That thing was the sword. It returned to the blade as part of the agreement.”

  “You made an agreement with it? In return for what exactly?”

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “In return, I have to take it with me. Finally let it out of this cave.”

  Thuzen chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way of beating the challenge.”

  Jordan turned to the old man. “How was it supposed to go, then?”

  “Hehe, Darleth had it all planned out. Enchanting the room with ice, leaving a way for the sword to defend itself—all to make sure the one who claimed it would be worthy. The beast wasn’t even physical. So who’s to say killing it would’ve worked at all?”

  “It was all a test?” Jordan asked. “Darleth didn’t want to kill his daughter.”

  “I think that’s how Darleth wanted it.”

  Yig felt a pang of unease at the suggestion. But then again, not everyone in Chestnut shared the same admiration for the man.

  Jordan lifted his hammer and looked at the chunks of snow clinging to its head. He smiled.

  “Damn enjoyable test. Hey, Yig?”

  “What are you going to name it?” Shack asked, wiping blood and snot from his nose with the back of his hand. “The sword, I mean.”

  “Its name is Icarus.” Yig spun and swung the sword a few times, still adjusting to its weight. “That’s what it said.”

  “No way that thing talked to you,” Shack said defiantly.

  “It knocked you across the floor. Why wouldn’t it be able to talk?”

  Jordan shrugged. “Maybe it just hit you a little too hard… you know, in the head.”

  Shack looked at them both with frustration. “I’d hope you two were a little more taken aback by all this. Jordan, a man just shoved you across the room with his mind, and Yig is chatting with a slab of metal.”

  Jordan smiled. “It’s a well-made slab of metal, though.”

  The meaningless chatter made for a good distraction from their wounds, but soon, they decided their time had been well spent and prepared to leave. Jordan and Shack exited the cave room, mumbling about how they’d finally solved the mystery of the mountain. Yig followed, until he heard Thuzen call out to him.

  “Young man.” His voice echoed with concern. “Is she dead?”

  Yig stopped, staring forward without turning to face the old man. “Who?” he replied, voice weak.

  “Darleth’s girl. She died in the attack. Am I wrong?”

  Yig’s knees weakened. His hands clenched, and his eyes welled with tears. “No. You’re right. She’s dead. How did you know about the attack?”

  “Boy, I can see quite far from the heights of these mountains. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

  Yig turned around. “You were there?”

  “I sneak down to Chestnut now and then. The bakery gives me a few things from time to time.”

  “Yeah… that sounds like Mrs. Darina.”

  “I saw you and her every now and then. And the baker told me stories. Tales of the one I was waiting for.”

  Yig turned his head forward again. “…Goodbye, Thuzen. And thanks.”

  “Good day to you too, Yig.”

  With no scabbard to carry the sword, Yig was forced to hold it in his hand. His other hand clutched his chest, where the pain had started to flare again. His footsteps were cautious as he stepped over moss, moving with the slow flow of the little streams. With one step, a sharp strain shot up his leg and into his arm, enough to draw a tear from his eye.

  The light at the end of the tunnel was clear—but what lay beyond it was still obscured. He could hear the concerned voices of his friends, but couldn’t call out to them. One sound, however, caught him by surprise.

  The sheep?

  That’s what it sounded like—a high-pitched, cheerful bleat. Yig dropped to his knees, panting heavily. Soft footsteps padded toward him, and through his blurry vision, he saw a small lamb with wide, worried eyes.

  The lamb tugged at his clothes with its teeth, trying to get his attention. When that didn’t work, it curled into a ball beside him. Yig, now barely propped up on his hands, stared down at the mossy floor. He could hear Jordan and Shack getting closer—but he wouldn’t stay conscious long enough to greet them.

  I can’t… I need to keep going. I can’t afford to let her down again.