Chapter 29 — The Sword in Stone

Sleep came and went in shallow scraps. The forest sang strange songs in the dark, and the temple stones seemed to hum with memory. I woke before dawn, drawn down the broken stair.

The chamber below smelled of earth and roots. Fallen blocks lay tumbled in heaps. My eyes swept the mess, and my hands moved without asking. Instinct. I shifted one stone, then another. They slid into place too easily, like puzzle pieces I'd never seen but somehow remembered.

Dust lifted. A dull glow seeped between cracks.

When the last stone locked, I saw it.

A sword, its hilt buried in the heart of the altar. Plain iron, pitted with age. Its blade dulled by centuries, its form unremarkable. Yet the sight of it stole my breath.

I froze.

"Of course," I muttered. "Of bloody course."

Avalon Farm. My dog named Merlin. Summoned to another world as the Warden of Systems. And now, here, in the ruins of a forgotten temple, I just happened to stumble across a sword in the stone. If this were a client pitch, I'd call it narrative convergence. Avalon Farm. Merlin. Now Caliburn. Someone was building a brand, and I was the bloody logo.

I laughed, sharp and humorless, the sound bouncing off the roots above. "This isn't clever," I whispered to the shadows. "This is cliché."

But my hand still reached.

The hilt was cold, rough against my palm. When I pulled, it slid free with the sound of stone sighing. For an instant, threads flared around me—the same lattice I'd seen in the Caller's hall, lines of power binding floor, wall, air. The same threads, but briefer, like a camera flash. My chest clenched, my vision filled. Not triggered by fear this time—by contact with the relic. The lattice collapsed as quickly as it had bloomed, leaving me gasping.

The connection was there. I'd seen it before, in the Caller's presence. But this time it told me something new: the Sight wasn't just fear-triggered. It could also respond to relics, to magical objects. It was expanding, showing me more of the world's hidden architecture.

I stood in silence, sword heavy in my hand.

Up above, Merlin barked, a sharp echo that pulled me back. Elira's voice followed, urgent, calling my name.

I climbed into the light with the blade at my side. Merlin's eyes went straight to it, his chest flickering in response. Elira looked from me to the sword, her face unreadable.

It was absurd. It was ridiculous. But it was real.

And for the first time, I wasn't sure which thought frightened me more.