The much-awaited morning came.
All eyes were on the arena.
Azrael stood at his side of the field.
Checks were done. Gear in place. The crowd hummed like distant bees.
The simple sword felt good in his right hand.
The cold metal of Quill's gauntlet on his left.
He was ready.
Kaelen stood across from him.
But Kaelen held a new sword.
A big blade. It seemed to glow from inside with soft, holy light.
'Eternalcleaver,' Azrael thought, his stomach tightening.
'Blessed by light. So the story moved same while I was gone.'
While he had been training, the hero found a new weapon.
Typical. The plot found a way to arm its champion.
He scanned the stands.
Seraphina stood in the front row behind Kaelen, her face was worried and hopeful at once.
Isolde and Elvara sat together higher up.
Isolde gave Azrael a quick thumbs-up, that cute, fake cheer on her face.
Elvara just stared, face unreadable.
Selvara was not in sight.
Azrael felt the weight of that.
