Chapter 30 — Relic

I turned the sword over in my hands by the fire, waiting for the world to break into song or for lightning to strike. Neither happened.

It was ugly, really—blade mottled, edge nicked, hilt wrapped in rotted leather. If this was supposed to be destiny's weapon, it looked more like something left to rust in a barn.

I gave it a test swing. The weight was right. Balanced, a little heavy at the tip, but no more than any farmer's blade I'd seen hanging over a hearth. Nothing sang. No visions. No threads of the world knitting themselves open.

Merlin watched me with his head cocked, chest flickering once like a match strike before it faded.

I laughed under my breath. "Avalon Farm. Dog named Merlin. Now I've pulled a sword from the stone. Might as well be waiting for a round table to show up next."

Elira crouched across the fire, eyes on the weapon, not me. "It isn't just a sword. You feel it, don't you?"

"I feel a lump of iron that should've snapped years ago."

She shook her head. "Relics don't break. Not truly. The old ones made them when the world was younger. Some were tools, some weapons, some… doors. They choose when they wake, not the hand that holds them."

"Convenient."

"True," she said simply. "The Caller hoards every one he finds. Says they're dangerous in the wrong hands. Says he alone keeps the balance. But the relics never bow to him. That's why he fears them."

I stared at the blade, at its dull edge catching firelight. "So this—" I held it up "—means what? I'm chosen? Special?"

Elira's smile was small, wry. "It means you're carrying trouble. Maybe power, if you can keep it from breaking you."

I let the sword fall against my knee, heavy, ordinary. It didn't feel like power. It felt like another weight to carry, another joke layered on a joke.

Merlin pressed against my side, warm, steady, eyes fixed on the blade. He seemed to understand something I didn't.

I gripped the hilt tighter, trying not to think of stories I'd grown up with. Trying not to hear the Caller's laughter when he saw me pull walls from stone.

Maybe it was destiny. Maybe it was coincidence. Either way, it was mine now.

And I hated how much that terrified me.

— Twelfth day, evening, learning about relics —