Days later, as they were setting up camp in a small glade, Adam's eyes caught the glint of something shimmering in the underbrush. He approached it cautiously, his hand brushing against the cold steel of an ancient artifact. It was a sword, its blade gleaming with an inner light that seemed to pulse with the very essence of the elements themselves. The moment he grasped the hilt, a jolt of power surged through him, and the whispers grew silent.
The sword was unlike any he had seen before, with intricate carvings along the blade that danced in the firelight. As he lifted it, the air around them stilled, and Krass'tine gaped at the transformation that took place. The weapon grew larger, its hilt wrapping around Adam's hand like a living vine, melding with his skin and clothing. His eyes turned a brilliant shade of blue, and the electricity that once danced around his staff now coalesced into the sword, forming a crackling aura of power.
