Fin POV
I was sitting quietly by the dining table, watching Helga intently as she cleaned her blood-soaked hands; she'd just finished carving up the bear.
"At least we've got enough meat to last through the winter." Helga joked, placing her butcher knives back into their holders.
I didn't respond. I just kept watching her.
It was strange how casual she was being. It felt like my stomach was twisting. I'd thought it was maybe the leftover adrenaline, but that wasn't it. Helga hadn't shown any fighting ability; she was just a normal lady from what I'd seen. She was the kind of person who I thought simply had a tough personality. But today…
Today was completely different.
I kept replaying it in my head: the way she cut through that bear, and the head had just plopped onto the snow, decapitated from its body with one single slash. And that sword, where the fuck did she hide a sword like that?
The house was quiet except for the faint water splashing as she rinsed the basin. Helga wiped her hands on a cloth, sighing softly before turning around. She hesitated, just for a second, before offering me a small smile.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," she teased, though I could sense how cautious she was being.
I forced myself to swallow, my throat dry.
"I…" I started, then stopped. The words felt tangled, caught between my thoughts and my tongue.
Did I want to ask? Did I ever want to know?
Helga tilted her head slightly, waiting.
I clenched my jaw.
"What was that?" I couldn't look at her as I said it.
Helga sighed. She leaned against the countertop, crossing her arms over her chest. Her expression shifted to being more serious.
"I wanted to tell you when you were much older," she said, rubbing her temples.
I frowned, my grip on the table tightening. "Tell me what?"
She studied me for a moment, like she was deciding how much to say, how much to reveal. Then, instead of answering, she pushed herself off the counter and walked toward the door.
"Come," she said, glancing back at me. "I need to show you something."
The unease in my gut twisted tighter, but I stood up and followed her outside.
Helga led me across the farm, past the barn and the old well, towards the tool shed. It was nothing special, just a small wooden structure tucked against the treeline, filled with rusted tools, spare lumber, and all the other junk that piled up over the years. I'd been here plenty of times before, fetching hammers or nails when Helga was fixing something around the farm.
But then, she walked to the back of the shed, where a stack of firewood leaned against the wall. Without hesitation, she crouched down and pushed one of the logs aside, revealing a small, hidden latch.
I stared.
How had I never noticed that? I'd walked past this place a hundred times. I'd even stacked firewood here myself.
Helga glanced up at me, her expression unreadable. Then, without a word, she pulled the latch.
With a soft click, the hidden latch lifted, revealing a wooden panel embedded in the ground. Helga slid it open, and beneath it, a set of stone steps descended into the earth. A cold draft wafted up from below, carrying the scent of something faintly metallic.
I tensed, staring down into the darkness.
A hidden basement? A cellar?
Helga stood up straight, brushing her hands off on her coat. Then she turned to me, her face calm but serious.
"Come," she said simply before stepping down into the darkness.
I hesitated. My mind was racing, a thousand questions filling my mind.
What the hell was this place?
Why had she never told me about it?
I clenched my fists and followed.
The stone steps were cold under my feet, the air growing denser with every step downward. The deeper we went, the more the dim light from the surface faded, swallowed by the darkness below.
The further down we went, the more I noticed small details. The way the walls weren't just rough earth but reinforced with thick wooden beams, the faintest traces of old carvings were barely visible under the grime of time.
At the bottom of the stairs, the tunnel opened into a chamber, larger than I expected. The flickering light revealed racks of weapons: swords, axes, and spears, all lined up in perfect order. Some gleamed as if they had just been sharpened, while others looked much older and dull, their blades darkened by time.
There was an armoury down here the whole time?
Helga walked ahead, her fingers brushing over the weapons with a sense of familiarity. On one rack, a set of armour, I think it was hers.
I took a slow step forward, my voice coming out quieter than I intended.
"What is this place…?"
Helga didn't answer immediately. She picked up the dagger, turning it in her hands, her expression unreadable. Helga looked at me for a long moment as if deciding whether to say it or not. Then, instead of answering, she stood up and walked toward the far end of the chamber.
"Come," she said. "There's more."
More?
Helga led me past the racks of weapons, past crates stacked against the walls, stopping at what looked like a dead end—a solid stone wall, cracked and worn with age. For a moment, I thought she had made a mistake, but then she reached out, pressing her hand against a specific spot near the centre.
A deep, grinding sound filled the chamber.
I stepped back instinctively as the stone shifted, revealing a narrow passage hidden behind it. A gust of stale air rushed out, carrying the scent of dust and something else—something metallic, almost like blood.
Helga didn't hesitate. She stepped inside.
It was like the passage was getting tighter the further we went in. My footsteps felt too loud in the silence. Helga walked a few paces ahead, her figure barely illuminated by the faint glow of lanterns placed along the walls.
Then we stepped into another chamber, and my breath caught in my throat.
The room was small, circular, and empty, except for the pedestal at its centre.
And two swords resting on top of it.
It wasn't just any sword. I could tell that much immediately.
One was the golden greatsword she'd used against the bear. The other is a katana with a blackened blade.
The blade was long, its metal black as night with veins of silver running through it like cracks in stone. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather, worn smooth from use. But what stood out the most was the faint, almost imperceptible hum in the air.
Helga stepped up to the pedestal, looking down at the katana with an expression I couldn't quite place.
Then she turned to me.
"This," she said, her voice quiet but firm, "is what I was going to tell you about when you were older."
I swallowed.
"Mom…" My throat felt dry. "What is this?"
She exhaled slowly, resting a hand on the hilt.
"A part of me," she said. "And, maybe one day, a part of you."
I didn't like the way she said that.
I didn't like what it implied.
Helga's fingers tightened around the hilt of the katana, her gaze distant, lost in something I couldn't see.
I took a step closer, the strange hum in the air growing stronger. It prickled against my skin, like standing too close to a storm just before lightning struck.
"A part of me?" I repeated. "What does that even mean?"
Helga finally looked at me, her expression unreadable. Then, in one fluid motion, she lifted the katana from the pedestal.
The air tensed.
For a moment, nothing happened—then the veins of silver running through the blade pulsed, light flickering across them like embers stirred to life. A low vibration hummed through the room, setting my teeth on edge.
Helga sighed, rolling her shoulders. "I was hoping to tell you this when you were older. When you had time to just… be a kid." She turned the blade in her hand, examining it.
I swallowed. "The truth about what?"
"You've walked past this place a hundred times," she murmured, "and never once noticed it. Do you know why?"
I shook my head.
Helga lifted her gaze to mine. "Because it wasn't meant to be seen. Not by you. Not yet anyway"
She exhaled softly, as if steadying herself. "I was much like you when I was younger. Restless. Searching for something more than the life I'd been given.
I grew up on a farm, much like this one. Hard work, long days, the same routine over and over again. But when I turned fifteen, I left. I left because I had no choice. My family needed money, and Yartar was the closest place where I could earn it properly.
Yartar was nothing like the quiet countryside I knew. It was massive, stone walls that stretched for miles, streets so packed you could barely walk, the smell of roasted meat mixing with sewage in the air. The city was alive, but it was ruthless, too. Back then, I didn't understand how the world worked.
But I was strong. Even at that age, I was stronger than anyone else I met. Word got around quickly, and before I knew it, I was being scouted. First, it was simple work, moving crates, breaking up bar fights. Then it got more dangerous. People started offering coins for my fists, and I took them. Mercenary work in Yartar paid better than farm work ever could."
She leaned against the wall.
"I learned fast. Not just how to fight, but how to survive. How to read people. How to tell when a deal was going south, when someone was about to pull a knife. The work was dangerous, but I didn't mind. I liked it. Liked testing my strength, liked proving I was better than the ones who thought they could push me around. I climbed the ranks quickly and earned a name for myself. People in Yartar whispered it when I walked by.
But power in a place like that doesn't come without a price."
Fin's voice was quiet, but it cut through the cold night like a blade.
"Is this to do with father?" I asked
Helga closed her eyes. A slow nod as she exhaled, her breath visible in the cold air.
"The man I followed… the man I trusted. He was...the devil, the leader of a cult" Her voice hardened. "At first, I turned a blind eye. The cult was growing, and with it, his power. We moved from town to town, city to city. At first, it was small things; recruiting the desperate and the lost. But then came the raids. The killings. The purges. And I was part of it."
She looked at me, really looked at me, and for the first time, I saw guilt carved into her expression like a wound that never healed.
"I followed his orders. I helped him burn down villages, execute those who refused to bow, and take what we wanted. And worse… I did nothing when I saw what he and the others did to the people we conquered. I was complicit in it all." Her voice wavered, just for a moment. "I was young, but I was no fool. I knew what we were doing. But I told myself it was for a cause greater than me. That we were creating something new, something powerful. That the weak didn't deserve to stand in our way."
She gritted her teeth.
"But power corrupts. And he...he was beyond redemption."
I could see her shoulders tense as she forced herself to continue.
"When I became pregnant, I thought… maybe this was a sign. Maybe I could have something real, something good. I thought he would be different with his child." Her hands clenched into fists. "But I was wrong."
Her next words sent a chill down my spine.
"He planned to sacrifice you."
I stiffened.
Helga's gaze turned distant.
"He believed that by offering his own flesh and blood, by taking your life, he would ascend to something beyond mortality."
Silence stretched between us.
I didn't know what to say. What could I say?
Helga's fingers curled into the fabric of her coat as she spoke, her voice steady but cold.
"Running wasn't an option."
She stared past me.
"The cult's influence stretched far beyond what I ever imagined at the time. Even if I tried to flee, there were eyes everywhere, spies in every city, hunters ready to drag me back. I was his most loyal follower. They would've stopped at nothing to bring me in, to make an example out of me. And if they caught me…" She shook her head. "You wouldn't have been given a quick death."
Her expression darkened, the weight of those words sinking deep into my bones.
"So I did the only thing I could. I decided to kill him."
A breeze rustled the trees, the cold biting at my skin, but I barely felt it.
Helga continued, her voice tight with controlled fury.
"I waited until the right moment. One night, when the others were deep in their rituals, I broke into his study. I thought I would find notes on his next campaign or crusade, maybe a weakness, something I could use against him. Instead… I found his plan."
Her jaw was clenched.
"He wasn't planning to use just magic. He had something else. A ritual unlike anything I had ever seen before."
My breath hitched as she spoke.
"Magic artifacts were already powerful, a surefire way to grow stronger. But artifacts that contained souls?" She met my gaze. "Thousands of times more potent."
The weight of her words settled in my chest like lead.
"He was going to take your soul, Fin."
I swallowed hard.
Helga exhaled sharply. "He had it all prepared: a medallion, one infused with runes older than any magic I had ever encountered. The ritual would have transferred your soul into it, binding it permanently. Once done, he could use your very existence to amplify his magic, to fuel his spells with the essence of who you were."
Helga's voice dropped lower. "He would've worn you around his neck like a trophy, bound to him forever."
I slowly turned my head, my gaze settling on the black katana still clutched in Helga's hand.
My chest tightened.
"You didn't just stop the ritual," I said, my voice quiet but heavy with realisation.
Helga's grip on the katana tightened.
"You used it against him."
A slow, shuddering breath left me as I stared at the blade.
"His soul… It's in there, isn't it?"
Helga didn't answer right away, but a nod was what she needed.
The soul of the man who was supposed to be my father, the leader of one of the most terrifying cults in Faerûn, a man who had razed cities and slaughtered thousands, his soul was trapped in that blade.
For years, I had thought of Helga as just a tough but kind woman, my caretaker. But now?
What life have I been thrown into?
End of Chapter.