The weight in his hands was unlike anything he had ever felt: both impossibly light and heavy, as if it somehow bridged together the earth and sky. The runes along the blade pulsed softly, and the whispering grew louder, filling his mind with words and images he didn't understand.
He stepped back, holding onto the sword as if it would slip from his hands, but the moment his feet touched the ground, the odd energy shot up his arms and into his chest. He fell to his knees, gasping, as a vision flooded his senses.
He was standing on a vast, barren plain under a sky swirling with storm clouds. He found himself surrounded by shadowed figures, their red eyes raised toward some foe that couldn't be seen. There was the sound of steel on steel and beasts screaming, and somewhere in it all, a wild, anguished wailing ripped across the land as if tearing at the fabric itself. At the very center of it all was a man, tall in his shimmering armor. A helmet adorned with antlers covered his face. He clutched the same sword Aiden now brandished by the blade, shining like a light in the dim.
A voice, deep and resonant, rolled across the vision:
"The Guardian's Blade must return to its rightful place, or the shadow shall consume all."
The vision shattered, and Aiden gasped in the cool night air. The mist had grown thick and danced about him like a living thing, and he could feel the weight of a thousand unseen eyes upon him as he stood in the darkness.
He pushed himself to his feet, his hands shaking as he tightened his grip on the sword. The words from the vision echoed in his mind. The Guardian's Blade. The title meant nothing to him, but he knew, instinctively, that it was no ordinary weapon.
Taking deep breaths, he forced himself to concentrate on seeking answers. He only had one place in the whole village where he might actually get some answers.
He was one of the oldest souls in Morrigan, with a memory that stretched all the way back to times that most people had forgotten. His home was a small, crooked cottage at the edge of the village, its walls lined with shelves overflowing with books and scrolls and strange artifacts from lands far beyond Eldoria.
Aiden rapped on the door. The creaking took an eternity, but it opened to show the stooped figure of the elder. His eyes were old, but sharp enough, and he fixed them on Aiden with an intensity that made the young man shift uncomfortably.
"I knew you would come," Brynn said, his voice like dry leaves rustling in the wind. "Come inside, boy. We have much to discuss."
Inside, the little cottage was shadowy dimly lit; it reeked of ancient parchment and herbs. Brynn nodded toward a small, worn table for Aiden to sit before he sat down himself in the chair facing Aiden, never breaking his stare from the sword lying across Aiden's lap.
"That blade has not seen the light of day for centuries," Brynn said softly, his fingers tracing a pattern on the table. "It was forged in a time when the land was young, by those who sought to protect it from the darkness that lurks in the spaces between worlds."
Aiden gulped, his mouth parched. "What.what does it mean? I saw things, in the mist. Shadows and.and a war. There was a man with this sword, and— "
She raised her hand, cutting him off. "You have been chosen by the blade, Aiden. It is not a thing to be taken lightly. The Guardian's Blade is a powerful weapon, but it is also a burden. Those who wield it are bound to a duty that stretches beyond the bounds of life and death."
A shiver went down Aiden's spine. "Duty to what?"
Brynn's eyes darkened. "To keep the darkness at bay. The shadows you saw are not mere visions—they are the forces of the Shadow King, an ancient being who was banished from this world eons ago. But the bonds that hold him are weakening, and he seeks to return, to bring ruin and despair to all."
The elder's words hung in the air, and Aiden felt a sense of dread settle into his chest. He'd heard stories of the Shadow King as a child-tales told around the hearth to frighten young ones into behaving. To hear Brynn speak of him as a real threat was something else entirely.
"How. how do I stop him?" Aiden whispered, his voice not much louder than a sigh.
Brynn softened his expression and laid a hand on Aiden's shoulder. "You are not alone in this, boy. There are others who will stand by your side, though they do not yet know it. The blade will guide you to them, if you listen."
The older rose and crossed the room to a shelf lined with dusty scrolls. He pulled one out and slowly unrolled it, revealing an intricate map of Eldoria and the lands beyond. He pointed to a spot near the center, marked by a single red dot.
Here rests the Shrine of the Guardian. Here you must come. And here, with proper blood, the blade should awake in full and help you to face what now waits for you. This road will be fraught and very dangerous. And do not think that all have no interest in preventing this deed. There are ones who serve the Shadow King himself to grasp his master's blade.
Aiden looked at the map. His mind went around. He had never set a foot outside of Morrigan's borders and had not even thought once about ever leaving the very small boundary of the village. To go into unknown territory, face animals he could hardly think of and powers, was both an exciting and petrifying matter.
"I'll do it," he declared, his voice firm despite the turmoil racing in his mind. "If this is my call, then I will fulfill it."
Brynn nodded, a glimmer in his eyes. "Well done. But remember this, Aiden-this isn't just a journey through the body, but in the soul. You must draw out the courage within yourselves, the strength to face this darkness, or all of it will be lost for nothing."
A grey-beard old man gave a tiny silver amulet in Aiden's hand. "It will protect you from influence of the Shadow King only if you remain with your heart pure, doubt will be the weapon of a shadow, a little anger and fear."
Aiden slid the amulet around his neck, its cool weight settling against his skin. He stood up, the sword strapped tightly to his back, and went out of the cottage into the misty night. The village lay silent and still, as if holding its breath, and he could feel the weight of destiny pressing down on him.
He drew a great breath, steeled himself for the trial. Somewhere, over the hills and through the forests, lay the Shrine of the Guardian—and with it, the answers he sought.
The wind whispered through the trees as if the very land itself was urging him forward, carrying with it a faint echo of voices. He threw one last look back at the small village he had known, and then Aiden marched out into the darkness with the Guardian's Blade glinting softly at his side.