The Shattered Prophecy

The mountain had become Eryk's second home. Every day, without fail, he climbed its steep incline, pushing himself further, fighting the growing pressure of the killing intent that seemed to haunt his every step. It never let up. It felt as if the mountain itself was alive, watching him, testing him. The weight of it, that cold, suffocating pressure, made his legs burn and his lungs ache, but he refused to quit. He couldn’t afford to.

In the quiet moments of his climb, Eryk would focus on the fire attack that had erupted from his training sword during the fight with Lyra. The memory of the intense heat, the explosion of flames that shot out of the sword, was vivid in his mind. He had tried to replicate it every day—swinging the sword, imagining the fire within him, pushing the energy through the blade. But despite his best efforts, nothing ever happened. The fire remained an elusive dream, flickering in the back of his mind but never materializing.

It wasn’t the lack of effort. He had pushed his body to exhaustion each day, only to find himself standing at the foot of the mountain once more, drenched in sweat, feeling as if he had made no progress. He was frustrated, but more than that, he was confused. What was it that I did? What’s the key?

The heat from the sword. The energy. The power that coursed through him in that moment—it had felt so natural, yet now it was completely out of reach. He needed to understand it.

One morning, after yet another failed attempt at summoning the fire, Eryk stood at the base of the mountain, his hands trembling from exhaustion. He stared at the sword in his hand and sighed. Maybe I’ll never get it. Maybe it was just a fluke.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see Darius standing at the edge of the training ground, his usual calm demeanor in place. There was something different today, though. In his hand, Darius was holding a small, weathered booklet.

Eryk’s eyes widened. “What’s that?”

Darius said nothing at first. He simply handed it over, his eyes piercing Eryk with their intensity. “This is a manual. A guide. You’ll need it.”

Eryk took the booklet with shaking hands, unsure of what to expect. As he opened it, his breath caught in his throat. The pages were filled with detailed drawings and illustrations of sword techniques, each one more intricate than the last. Some were familiar—basic forms he had already learned—but others… Others were unlike anything he had ever seen.

He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the descriptions and movements, trying to absorb the information. But as he moved further into the book, he came to a page that caused his heart to skip a beat.

At the top of the page were the words Sword Heart. Beneath it, a short but cryptic phrase: All things return to one.

Eryk furrowed his brow, the words heavy in his mind. What did it mean? All things return to one?

He paused, turning the pages, but the further he read, the more the words seemed to blur together. The techniques, the steps—it was all becoming a whirlwind of motion, but the one phrase kept circling in his mind: Sword Heart. All things return to one.

He was so absorbed in the manual that he didn’t notice Darius stepping forward until the master’s voice rang out, clear and commanding.

“Focus, Eryk. This is the path of the sword.”

Eryk’s head snapped up, and he saw Darius standing before him, his gaze as sharp as ever. The swordmaster had already taken up a training sword. Eryk blinked in surprise.

“Watch closely,” Darius said, his voice steady and calm. “I will demonstrate these techniques once. Then, you will try to learn.”

Eryk nodded eagerly, still trying to make sense of the manual. Sword Heart... All things return to one. What does that mean?

Darius lifted the training sword and brought it into position. His movements were slow at first, deliberate. But as he began, the speed picked up, the fluidity of his strikes mesmerizing. The sword danced in his hands, each movement seamless, flowing into the next without hesitation. It was as if the blade and the man were one, perfectly synchronized.

Eryk could hardly keep up with his eyes. He had never seen anything like it before. There was no wasted motion, no hint of effort. It was effortless, yet beautiful—precise, like a perfectly orchestrated dance of death.

Darius moved faster, the sword flashing through the air in ways that Eryk could not begin to comprehend. His strikes were clean, sharp, and powerful. It felt like the air around him hummed with energy, every motion sending a ripple through the world.

And then—at the final strike—Eryk watched, wide-eyed, as Darius’s sword came down, the force of it crashing through the air. In an instant, the training sword shattered. The sound of it breaking echoed in Eryk’s mind like thunder.

Darius lowered his arm, the broken pieces of the sword falling to the ground around him. He stood there for a moment, still as a statue, and then turned his gaze to Eryk.

“Did you see it?” Darius asked, his voice calm but expectant.

Eryk stared at the broken pieces of the sword, his mind reeling. He couldn’t believe what he had just witnessed. The sheer power in Darius’s movements, the speed, the precision—it was unlike anything he had ever imagined. One strike. One moment. And the sword had shattered.

“Master, that was…” Eryk struggled to find the right words. “That was incredible. How can someone… How can anyone be so powerful?”

Darius’s eyes softened for the briefest moment, but it was gone almost as soon as it appeared. “Power doesn’t come from brute strength, Eryk. It comes from understanding the sword. From understanding yourself.”

He took a deep breath, his gaze sharpening. “If you can show me ten percent of what I just did in the next seven days, I will answer three questions for you.”

Eryk’s eyes widened, his heart pounding in his chest. “Ten percent? But... that’s impossible. No one can—”

Darius cut him off with a sharp look. “If you want to understand your power, if you want to learn the truth behind the sword, then you will need to push yourself harder than you ever have before. Seven days, Eryk. That’s all you have.”

A rush of excitement and fear surged through Eryk. His mind raced with the possibilities. Three questions. Three answers that might help him understand the fire he had unleashed, the power that flowed through him. He needed those answers.

“I’ll do it,” Eryk said, his voice steady but determined. “I’ll show you ten percent of what you did.”

Darius nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile flickering on his lips. “Good. But know this: It won’t be easy. The sword’s path is long, and it will test every part of you. If you can’t give everything—if you can’t focus your will, your heart, your soul into each strike—you will fail.”

Eryk’s grip tightened around the training sword, his resolve hardening. He wasn’t going to fail. He couldn’t. Not when the answers to his questions, the truth behind his power, were within reach.

Seven days. He had seven days to prove himself.

And he would not waste a single moment.

The path ahead was uncertain, filled with hardship and struggle, but Eryk knew one thing for certain: The sword was his destiny, and he would fight for it, no matter the cost.