Nox roared furiously as the collar drained away his power once again. I would have liked to keep him this way, big and powerful, but it was too dangerous. He was strong enough to fight against my control. If my concentration slipped for even a moment while he was like this, he could kill me in an instant. Worse, he could attack my family. That was not a risk I was willing to take.
My family and I stepped out of our locked room, and into the ruined hall. The damage from the fight had been extensive. Craters of broken stone littered the path. Part of the ceiling had collapsed causing half the hallway to fill with dirt. The giant weapons lay broken and useless near the piles of rubble that once stood guard.
“The Corvus Empire…” my father muttered, “To think, even after four hundred years, the defenses they left behind were so great. What were they like when they ruled?”
I narrowed my eyes. “They were monsters. To them, everything and everyone was their property. Whenever anyone stepped out of line or talked out of turn, golems like these would be there to permanently silence them.”
“I have read stories. Was it really like they say? Slave camps… human sacrifices…” Charly asked.
I nodded. “My empire was hated when my neglect allowed corruption, but even at its worst, it was still magnitudes better than the Corvus Empire. The things they did… the stories don’t even begin to describe them all.”
My mother placed a warm hand on my shoulder. “It must have been hard.”
I shook my head. “Others had it worse than me. My teacher saved me when I was still in diapers. I never had to work in the camps, kill for sport, or be dehumanized.” I shook away the memories plaguing my mind. “Anyway, they are dead and gone. I made sure of that, but what they left behind can still be useful.”
Stepping past the broken stone door, I entered the armory. It was untouched after so many years. The air stank of metal. Rows of rusted swords and armor lined the walls. Arrow shafts had all but disintegrated with the passage of time. This common equipment was all beyond salvageable. We were not here for that.
What I was looking for was on the back wall at the very end of the armory. Pristine and untouched by age, ten pieces of equipment sat. each piece was in a glass case, displayed proudly to the rest of the room.
Four swords of various sizes, three spears, a dagger, a mace, and a crossbow, each fitted with a purple gem that glowed in the dark room. Next to each of them was a bracelet or bracer made of bone, engraved with hundreds of inscriptions. These were the weapons nobles of the Corvus Empire used. While they were not as powerful as the one the royal family used, they could greatly increase my own family’s strength.
“Pick your favorites,” I said, arms held wide.
My father stepped forward, eyes glowing with excitement. He was immediately drawn towards the swords. He opened the glass cases, gently touching each blade as if it was a long-lost lover.
Charly was more reserved. He walked past each of the weapons, thinking quietly. His gaze kept moving back and forth between one of the blades, and the crossbow.
I turned to look at my mother, who had not moved yet. “You should pick one too,” I spoke.
“We cannot use glyphs. They are useless to us,” She replied with a low tone.
“We cannot use the bracelets. The weapons on the other hand were made to be used by spoiled noble children. Many of them never bothered to study glyphs so the weapons were designed to be used by anyone. They can even be used by people with innate talents.”
“Really?” my mother asked, light shining in her eyes.
I nodded. “Glyphs work by taking raw chaotic energy moving along a pattern that transforms it into other forms of energy. The reason we cannot use them is because our innate talent naturally converts any chaotic energy we come in contact with into our ability. However, these purple gems can store raw chaotic energy. Simply press down on them and they will activate the glyphs inscribed on the stone. The only downside is that we cannot recharge the stones. We still have to rely on Dad and Charly for that.”
“I will actually be able to use glyphs,” My mother said in breathless amazement. She stepped forward and grabbed hold of one of the blades. It was a thin rapier with an intricate handle. She drew the blade from its sheath and pressed down on the gem with her thumb.
A moment passed and nothing happened. Silence. I laughed as my mom looked at me with confusion.
“They have been sitting here for four hundred years. It is only natural that the energy has leaked away after all this time. It is why I have had Dad and Charly use every crystal since we got here. They will have to be charged again before we can use them.”
Dad had finally made his choice. He picked two blades. One long saber with a slight curve was in his left hand, while a short sword rested in his right.
He closed his eyes and the energy in the room moved at his command. The gem on the saber lit up and the temperature in the room began to fall. Particles of ice formed on the long saber. Dad swung the saber curiously. Shards of ice grew from the weapon mid-swing. The ice broke free from the blade and flew forward, embedding themselves deep into the stone floor.
When the gem on his short sword glowed, the blade shimmered for a second, then faded from view. It was still there, in his hand, but invisible.
“Incredible!” My father whispered barely containing his excitement.
Nearby, Charly had decided on the crossbow. It did not come with any bolts, but when the gem began to glow, they were no longer needed. The crossbow loaded itself, pulling back its own string. A blazing red arrow made of flames appeared, notched and ready to fire.
Charly took aim at a nearby wall curiously. With a squeeze of the trigger, the flaming bolt rocketed from the crossbow. It struck a nearby wall with an explosion of fire that nearly swept him off his feet.
“Don’t forget the bracelets,” I said, reminding the two of them, “Mom and I cannot use them, but they are loaded with glyphs designed to be used alongside the weapon you chose. They will add diversity to what the weapon can do. Best of all they will not disintegrate with a single use.”
Dad and Charly each picked up the bracelets that were paired with their weapon. “Are these… bone?” Charly asked.
I nodded. “There are very few materials that do not break down when you run large amounts of chaotic energy through them. The easiest of these to obtain is bone from a powerful Demonkin.”
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My father nodded and slipped the two bracelets onto his arm. Charly hesitated for longer, but the temptation of power outweighed his distaste for the object.
Mom’s blade was next. With Dad’s help, she was able to ignite the gem on the blade. A crackling sound filled the room. with a zap, the blade came to life. Arcs of electricity flowed between the handle and the blade.
I smiled. This would work well with her lightning-step ability. Maybe being around other forms of electricity would allow her to trace her ability's origin and allow it to evolve further.
Finally, it was my turn to pick a weapon. The spears were of little interest to me. The only remaining sword was a massive two-handed claymore. I was drawn to the mace. A mace was a weapon I had used a lot in my lifetime.
When fighting in the endless war, my mace had been made from the fang of an incredibly powerful Demonkin. With its power, I could level a city in a single swing.
I reached out to grab hold of the mace sitting before me. The metal felt cold in my hand. I could feel its weight. grasping the handle tightly, I pulled on the mace… nothing happened. I pulled again, and again the mace did not move. I couldn’t even lift it!
My hand slipped free of the mace as I tripped and fell to the ground. My face flushed with embarrassment.
I could hear Charly laughing. I glared at him with my best evil stare, but that only made him laugh harder. My father walked up to me with a grin. Even he was laughing at me!
“I don’t think you are ready for that yet, darling.” He said suppressing a snigger. He handed me the dagger that had been in the other case. “Start with this. You are still too small for anything else.”
“The mighty Undead Queen, brought low by a lump of metal.” Laughed Charly.
“Charly stop laughing at your sister.” My Mom said with a disapproving frown. She turned and slapped Dad’s arm. “You too.”
“” Yes Ma’am.”” Said both of the boys in unison.
I held the dagger in my hands, examining it with a critical eye. It was a single-sided blade about as long as my forearm. It was simple for a noble weapon. It had no fancy decoration or flare. Only the single purple crystal.
“Looks like I will be stuck with you for a while,” I mumbled at the blade, “I am naming you Stigma.”
“You are actually naming the dagger? Why?” Charly asked.
I grinned at Charly. “It makes the stories people tell about me more interesting. If I don’t name it some drunken storyteller in a bar will.”
“Let’s see what it does.” Said my father as he reached out and activated the crystal.
The blade glimmered for a moment then fell silent. There was no lightning or flames. no dazzling ability appeared. It was just a blade.
“Is it broken?” Charly asked. “It is living up to its name already.”
“I felt the glyph activate, but I don’t recognize what it does,” my father said.
“I do. It is not broken,” I replied with a grin. I walked over to the old rusted armors against the far wall. I reached out, gently touching the dagger against the rusted metal. There was no resistance. The blade passed through the armor as if it was made of paper. It was not flashy like the other weapons, but it was possibly the most powerful weapon in the room. A blade that could cut through just about anything.
“What should we do with the rest of the weapons?” My father asked, “They are all fairly heavy. I am not keen on carrying them down the mountain, but they are incredibly powerful. They might be useful as bribes for others to join our cause even if we don’t use them ourselves.”
A gut feeling rose up in my stomach. I was suddenly reminded of an old story my teacher used to tell me when I was little. A story of a powerful magician and master craftsman.
The magician was an eccentric old man obsessed with crafting the perfect magic item. He crafted thousands of items, but none of them were perfect. During his obsession, he picked up a hobby. He would leave his imperfect items scattered across the world. A legendary sword inside a dusty old temple. A mythical shield half-buried in a farmer’s field. A magical ring dropped into a child’s soup bowl. To the magician, it was nothing more than a game, but through that game… legends were born.
“We should leave them here,” I said with assurance, “If we really need them, we can always come back. Maybe one day, they will have a story of their own."