Mireya knelt by the riverbank, her gaze fixed on the icy current that rippled under the fading evening light. The air clung to her skin, cold and damp, yet she barely felt it. Beside her, Daelviaha stood quietly, her face drawn in tight lines of unease.
"If the blade is down there," Daelviaha said softly, "it's well hidden."
"Then we'll find it." Mireya's voice held no trace of doubt. She pulled her cloak tighter, steeling herself. "We have to."
The river's surface reflected the sky above—a shifting sheet of grey. Mireya drew in a deep breath and stepped into the shallows, wincing as the cold gnawed at her boots. The water surged around her legs, dragging at her as she pressed forward.
"Here." Daelviaha pointed further downstream. "There's a hollow beneath the rock shelf. If there's a cave, that's where it'll be."
They moved carefully, feeling their way over jagged stones until they reached the ledge. Mireya knelt again, running her fingers along the slick stone. Her hand found a gap—a narrow opening masked by shadow and stone.
"This must be it," Mireya murmured.
Daelviaha bent down beside her, peering into the dark. "No light will follow you in there," she warned. "We'll be blind."
Mireya hesitated for only a moment. "Then we go carefully." Without waiting for more protest, she lowered herself through the gap. The cold swallowed her instantly, icy water seeping into her clothes. The space narrowed before opening into a tunnel barely wide enough to crawl through. She dragged herself forward, her breath sharp and shallow.
"Let me try something," Mireya whispered. She lifted her hand, calling forth a flicker of magic—a small light to guide them. The energy sputtered in her palm, weak and flickering before vanishing altogether. Mireya swore under her breath. "It's not working."
"The dark here is different," Daelviaha muttered grimly. "We'll have to manage without it."
Her scar prickled—a faint burn beneath her skin. Mireya froze, one hand braced against the damp stone wall. "Do you feel that?" she whispered.
Daelviaha, following closely behind, shook her head. "No shadow magic. Nothing."
"Then why..." Mireya's hand went to her shoulder, fingers brushing the raised scar. The ache twisted deeper now, cold and sharp. Something was here.
"We keep going," Mireya said firmly. "I can feel it."
The tunnel sloped downward, the cold intensifying with every step. The air turned heavy—thick with moisture and silence. Their breaths seemed too loud in the suffocating dark.
Then, suddenly, the space opened. Mireya stumbled forward into a cavern so vast the darkness seemed endless. Her boots scuffed against the stone floor as she strained to see anything at all. Nothing. The blackness swallowed even their faint outlines.
"Stay close," Daelviaha murmured. "Don't lose your footing."
Mireya closed her eyes and reached out—not with her hands, but with the senses she had spent years suppressing. The faintest pulse answered her, steady and cold, like a heartbeat buried in stone. She moved toward it, ignoring the way her scar throbbed.
Her foot slipped on a patch of wet stone, and she stumbled. Daelviaha's hand shot out, steadying her.
"Easy," Daelviaha warned. "We can't rush this."
"I know," Mireya said through clenched teeth. She forced her legs to move again, one careful step at a time. The pressure in her chest built as they neared the pulse—stronger now, undeniable. Mireya knew they were close.
She stopped, breath misting in the air. "It's here. I can feel it."
Daelviaha's voice broke the silence. "And only their song will have the iron reveal," she whispered.
Mireya turned to her. "You think we have to... chant? Together?"
Daelviaha gave a small, hesitant nod. "It's worth a try."
They stood side by side, hands intertwined. Daelviaha's voice trembled as she began:
Avemos'a kreyator tus noris ese avhet (Daelviaha)
Mithil achram e avemos (Mireya)
Ilnoris ekom unos
Ikmos kalhi nosfer[1]
Mireya joined in, their voices rising together, weaving through the stillness like threads of flame. The words felt old, powerful—a force reaching beyond the dark. The pulse beneath her skin flared, burning like fire through her veins.
The stone beneath their feet trembled, but still no blade. Mireya's scar seared with blistering heat. Her breath hitched as she clutched her chest, fingers pressing hard against the raised skin. "It's a scar," she thought, panic flickering behind her eyes. "That's why the blade isn't showing."
The truth struck her like ice—The mark must be present. The riddle hadn't meant a concealed scar; it needed the mark itself, bared and unhidden. Fear clawed at her chest. "What now?" she whispered.
[1] I, creator of iron with blood (Daelviaha)
Shadow-marked is I (Mireya)
Blade come forth,
We summon you