It had been strange for Lann to see the house for the first time when they’d both come inside. He’d learned to navigate his way about the place in complete darkness, and in his mind he’d painted a picture of how it might look. In many ways his mental image was fairly close, but there were still things, like how colourfully Fleya had painted the walls and the furniture, that surprised him.

His aunt did not want the weapon in the same room as her, and at her insistence Lann had taken the sword to his bedroom. Despite it only being a short distance away, he could sense the weapon’s desire to be reunited, and he did his best to shut out his own disquiet over the separation.

Eventually his aunt put down her cup and sighed. ‘This is my fault. There are charms and wards built into the very stones of this house to keep out all manner of creatures that might try to enter it. But even my considerable powers are of nothing compared to that of an Ancient One. Tell me, what form did Rakur take when he came to you?’

‘A man. A man with golden hair and eyes.’

Fleya snorted. ‘A rat would have been more appropriate! Or a dog. A lying, treacherous dog.’

‘I hoped you might be happier for me, Aunt. I have been living in the darkness all this time, and now I am in the light again.’

She looked thoughtfully at him, considering her words before going on. ‘I am sorry, Lann. Of course I am happy that you have had your vision returned. But I fear the price you may have to pay for your sight will prove to be a high one. Your golden-haired god knew this, and yet he still gave that … thing to you.’

‘Rakur didn’t lie or try to trick me, Fleya. He told me that accepting the blade would come at personal cost. How it would demand to be put to use against the creatures it was forged to eliminate.’ He paused as something occurred to him. ‘If anything, he seemed almost reluctant to offer the thing to me.’

‘Such a weapon coming back into this world will not go unnoticed. Why do you think I came hurrying back from the village? The universe let out a warning cry, a cry that was heard by all creatures of majik. Many will seek out, not only the blade, but its bearer. They will long to steal it or destroy it, and they will not care it is only a young Volken boy who wields it. Did your reluctant deity tell you that?’

‘No.’

‘No. Of course he did not. That is his way – to play with the lives of people as if we were amusing playthings for him.’ She pushed the cup away from her with her fingers. ‘What else did he say to you?’