Revenge| Book 6| A novel in the Blue Moon series| An Avengers fan fiction series |

44- Hope

I got one done! YAAAY! 

I hope you like it :) 

xoxo Sierra xoxo

Chapter 44: Hope

"The swords of what?" demands Jack as I keep turning around and around in circles, hardly able to believe what I'm seeing.

The swords are stashed in the pockets of rock, piled inside full of ancient metal and steel and jewels. There have to be thousands in here, reaching to the ceiling and filling every crevice of the wall. They sparkle brightly from the light of the flames, sending colors all over the little cave.

"Kiramara was the first ruler of Asgard," I say. "She was called the Phoenix Queen. She had a really powerful sword, and when she died, it came here. This is the Chasm of the Queens. All the Asgardian rulers have their swords here."

"Why are the swords so special?" Jack sits up, still half-covered with furs.

I look up on some of the higher shelves. Somewhere, something is glowing. "They're laced with old, powerful magic. Kiramara was also a sorceress, and because of her, magic ran through the veins of my family. It ran through Frigga, and then through Loki, and now to me. And if I have kids, then it'll run to them."

"So what do we do?" asks Jack.

"We need to get as many of these as we can back to Fletohein," I say. "These could make or break the war."

"Why are you climbing?"

Grasping a sharp rock, I pull myself up higher in the cave. "I need to see what this is."

"What is 'this'?"

"That's what I'm finding out."

"You're bloody helpful."
I swing my leg over a rock, ducking to avoid the ceiling and dripping water, and as I inch forward, I sit up straight. Leaning against a glossy monolith is a sheath. Even though these swords must have been down here for centuries, the cover is clear and polish, fixed with emeralds, amber orbs, and laced with gold. The hilt of the sword is jeweled with every color of a flame, twisted filigree shaped into sharp flame-like spikes encircling the knob of the long, ancient blade.

Ignoring Jack's complaints that the only reason he's not coming up here is because he's naked, I grasp the cool hilt. Immediately, a tremor, like an electric shock, runs up my arm, and as I pull the sword out of the sheath, I gasp.

Fire explodes, wrapping around me and the sword. I'm thrown back against the wall as a ripping sensation reaches from my arm to my shoulders, to my back. It's painful, but somehow, the pain is muted as if it moves in slow motion. I see nothing but roaring flames in front of me, but somehow, they don't burn me.

The fire is coming from the sword, but the metal and steel and jewels do not burn any more than my skin. With a hiss, scrolled words appear on the golden blade.

Ya firi manarah isi blane.

For only the fierce will I swing.

The sword of Kiramara, the Phoenix Queen.

The flames engulf me, pushing me harder against the rocky wall and spirling over and over like snakes wrapping their coils around my arms, hissing into my shoulder blades like knives. Somehow, I don't scream. I am overwhelmed with fire, so overwhelmed that I cannot move.

Squinting, I see my reflection in the mirror-like blade, glinting gold and fiery before me. My green eyes glow like the jewels on the sword.

And suddenly, another pair of eyes appears on the blade. Just the same bright, luminous green, flecked in gold and wisdom.