Infernal Blade

Six

Kanika

After the Guild meeting, I headed straight home, even as several other members tried to start a conversation with me. Being in Brevil's presence after so long had only reignited old flames and my fingers were itching to shred something.

I quickly changed out of my formal attire and into a loose fitting blouse and trousers. Pulling my hair into a thick bundle at the nape of my neck, I descended the marble steps down to the basement. It was less furnished on this level as it held a small dungeon and a room for my training. No one came down here unless they were on my bad side or wanted to be.

I glanced down the dark hallway lined with four stone cells that I passed on my way to the training room. It was at the end of the narrow hallway, lit on either side by blue pitch torches. The torches were kept burning by the magic that flowed through the house, more for an eerie appearance than practicality.

The door swung open on command and I stalked inside the already lit room. It was small, carved out of the rock and left to look just as jagged. One wall was covered in weapons of all sorts, mostly for training, and the other side held a mat for sparring. On the wall across from me was a thick black door that led to my weapons vault. It was completely and utterly uncrackable. Blood magic secured it in place, making it impossible to open by anyone other than myself.

I grabbed a long scimitar hanging from the wall and swung it around several times, testing the familiar weight. The metal was woven steel, forged to stand the test of time. It had been made especially for me by Brevil when I had first joined the Guild. Now, it was nothing more than a training sword.

I had my magic, after all. And if I was being honest, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of using the blade he had given me.

Placing the weapon back on the rack, I turned to face the other wall. I flicked my fingers, feeling the magic jump to life, ready to be harnessed at a moment's notice. Ever since I freed it, the magic no longer felt like something I owned. It was it's own force, alive and existing with me. It wasn't an ownership, although Brevil liked to think of magic that way. No, it was a partnership. You had to work in tandem with magic.

At a flick of my wrist, the torches extinguished and darkness filled the room. I swept my hand up, flutters of flame following my fingers, dancing like leaves in the wind. Concentrating on the energy flowing through my body, I turned in a circle, sending out the sparks of light until they filled the room like millions of tiny fireflies. I couldn't help but release a small smile at the sight, and the memories it brought forth.

After a moment, I released the tension on the magic and it faded into dust, darkening the room once again. Another flick of my wrist and the pitch relit on the torches, bathing the room in light. I faced the vault door, sending a gathered fireball into the door only to watch it explode into millions of sparks. As the sparks cleared, it revealed that the wall was unmarked, the dark metal still glimmering in the torchlight.

I approached the door and pressed my palm against it. As the blood magic worked up my hand, I felt a small prick. A bit of my blood seeped into the door, soaking in as the magic worked to detect who was trying to open the vault. It took several seconds, then the door groaned as it shifted and slid open.

Lights flickered on as I entered the vault, revealing rows of weapons lining the walls and in the very center, my Recreant blade. The hilt glimmered in the light, obsidian wrapping around the handle and woven into the blade itself, creating a dark and veiny appearance. The blade was gorgeous, and I regretted that I couldn't use it more often.

Instead, I reached for the smaller blade hanging on the wall to my right. It wasn't as long as the Recreant blade, but the handle was made of partial obsidian and partial scourged stone, giving the blade a smoky appearance, like it was a mirage.