In a dark catacomb far beneath the Earth, there was a single room. This room was made of a dark gray stone, expertly crafted stone bricks. These stone bricks made up the walls and floors of the room, with not a single crack in any one of them!
At the far end of the room, there laid a jagged and rough dark blue stone. On the front of the bluestone, there was a snowflake bolted on. The snowflake was made of silver, with ancient runes that would glow brighter and dimmer in a rhythmic pattern.
On top of the stone, there was a hilt of a sword. The hilt was made of black metal, all except the pommel of the sword. The pommel was that of a simplistic four-pointed snowflake. While the guard of the sword had two protruding spikes at the end of each point.
In the middle of the guard was a small oval-like shape. When closer inspected it looked as though it would be the perfect spot for a single eyeball.
The catacomb had barely any sound in it. The only thing you could hear would be the soft humming of the runes on the silver snowflake. Yet today, the runes were quieter than usual.
The runes have a simple pattern, they would start off becoming brighter and dimmer as usual. But today, the pattern was off, they would become dimmer for a few seconds longer, then minutes, then hours, until finally, one rune lost its glow altogether!
Then the runes went back to their normal pattern. But in that split second that rune went off, something happened.
The sword began to shake violently, making a loud crashing sound as the blade inside the bluestone was crashing against it. The slashing and the shaking continued for minutes, replacing the low hum of the runes. Then it abruptly stopped, when a new noise took its place.
A loud crackling and popping sound echoed across the room. It sounded exactly like ice forming, during an extremely cold winter. When the sound stopped the silence came back into the catacomb.
The oval shape now was filled with light blue ice, and in the middle of the light blue was a dark blue slit.
At first, it just seem like a gemstone was now attached to the sword. However, that was not the case at all!
The dark blue slit quickly looked to its right and left, the up and down. It seemed the eye was studying the tomb it was in.
The eye tried to make a noise, but nothing came out. It tried to have a thought, but it only thought of an ever-consuming black void. It tried to think of anything, yet it was impossible!
Suddenly the eye began to panically look around! At first, when the eye began to study the tomb, it was like a predator stalking its prey with supreme concentration. But now the sword was the prey surrounded by blood-thirsty predators, its eye looking everywhere to watch these so-called predators close in on the sword!
It now tried to scream, swear, plead, yelp, or even whisper. But dead silence was the end result. The sword felt as though its entire mind was trapped in a cell that blocked all thought. Which wasn't too far from the truth.
After a couple more minutes of the eye frantically moving about, it suddenly stopped right back into the center.
All showings of its panic state it was in just a few moments ago just, disappeared. The slit then narrowed down, concentrating on something...different.
Something powerful, something that was imprisoning him, something magical. The eye now slowly looked around the room, trying to find this mystical energy.
The sword quickly found the magical oddity, that being the silver snowflake with the runes underneath it.
The slit widened, it was hard to tell what emotion it was since it could not speak or have audible thoughts. But the best guess would be that it had found joy or pride in discovering the magical object.
It did not take the sword long to put together that the snowflake on the rock was the reason it was stuck here. But how would the sword break the runes?
While the sword pondered in wordless thought, one of the runes began to flicker.
Then an instinct came into the sword like a flash of clairvoyance. An instinct so powerful that it was etched into the sword's mind since its creation.
When the rune came back into its regular state, it was too late. Now the sword remembered a key part of itself.
A small icicle appeared in front of the snowflake, with strands of a white fog surrounding the icicle. Then at a moment's notice, the icicle flew at an incredible speed, hitting the rune that had only recently turned back on.
This time the rune shattered, and all of its glow immediately faded away. The only thing left was the still freezing icicle.
The sword felt a sense of accomplishment, then it felt many senses all at once. As memories and functions that were long forgotten suddenly came back in an instant.
The sword had gained an important part of itself, yet he could not recollect the new memory. It was just something in the far reaches of its mind that told itself it now knew a piece of its identity has come back.
The sword prepared another icicle in front of the snowflake, it now had a general sense of what was stopping him from thinking.
The icicle pierced the snowflake at high speeds with precise accuracy, destroying many of the runes on it. The jewel-like eye had a look of happiness from a job well done.
But then a sharp pain hit the sword, and the silt of the eye lost all joy and narrowed. A loud, ear-piercing scream echoed across the room.
The ancient stone that made the catacomb shook violently, cracks appeared everywhere, with the loud clanking of metal against stone.
But the worst of it was the scream itself! It sounded like a man being brutally tortured, with a reverb that made the screaming barely human, and it was without pause. The screaming would now stop for even a second, it was just continuously dragged on!
After a few minutes of the screaming it abruptly stopped, the slit returned to its normal proportions, yet it looked arguably more tired. Then a voice came through.
A voice only the sword itself could hear. It sounded exasperated, confused, and masculine.
That voice, was rightfully the swords, and its first real words it thought was, 'Where...am I?'