A Sword Is Only As Good As Its Wielder

Chapter 1

I stand alone.

I turn to look around, trying to see what was happening.

There was fire and smoke surrounding me, not hurting me, simply blurring my vision. Blurred bodies surround me as something towered over me, not even hurt. The green grass was stained red from many wounds, and the sky was a deep swirling green, bright like the poisons of many. I heave in breaths, wounds on my face and body bleeding heavily.

“So. You thought you could win.”

I shake, because it tells lies. I did not enter this battle thinking I could win. But I fought anyways.

And then they came in.  

And now, the bodies on the ground are my punishment.

Punishment for being careless, foolish, and selfish.

It stares me down, as I feel the many tears stream down my cheeks. I sob quietly, and wobble. I almost fall, but catch myself. My wounded side burns as I cough up tiny amounts of blood.

And then, shaking down to my core, I start to stand back up.

It looks down on me in amusement.

“Still trying to beat me?”

No. I’m not wasting time on that.

I slowly continue to stand, legs trembling with effort and lungs feeling like they were set on fire. Old pain rockets down my back as I remember quite suddenly, that yes. I do, in fact, have chronic pain.

Not like that fact matters much, since I am going to die.

The thing grins at me.

“Stop calling me an ‘it’ and a ‘thing’ please. Quite disrespectful, really. Call me Lyon, and I use they pronouns, not it.”

I blink, then scowl. “I’ll call you whatever I want to, beast.” I spit, choking on the tears still falling from my eyes.

They scoff, and smile down on me. “Now, now. Is that any way to treat me? I’m going to give your dear friends and family back, after all.”

I freeze up for a helpless split second where I hope. Then, it falls away into the nothingness as I take in that things offer.

They will give me back my friends.

But why?

I swallow the spit and blood that has filled my mouth, and grin.

And begin to speak.

“Give them back? Why, that’s cruel. So, so cruel. And yet, almost charming.” What was I saying? How could anything be charming about this situation? “So tell me, my good friend.” I almost scream, but hold it in. “How in the world are you going to give them back to me?”

They grin even wider now, a cruel grin that curls around their eyes.

“Have you ever heard of a healer?”