[Leif's POV — Forest Clearing, FroJnholm Wilds—Night Deepens]
The light didn't fade all at once.
It fractured—slowly, painfully—like shards of day bleeding into night. The sword's glow dimmed by degrees, threads of gold folding back into steel until only a faint hum remained, vibrating in my bones.
Alina still held it high, her little arms trembling, eyes wide in awe. The air around her shimmered, thick with a warmth that didn't belong to this cold forest.
Then the warmth snapped away. The clearing fell still.
Even the wolves stopped moving. Every single crimson snout lifted, every ear twitched. They didn't growl. They didn't move. They just listened—as if something vast and ancient was still speaking, too softly for human ears.
Then—
"Master…" Zephyy's small voice trembled through my mind, a ripple of awe and excitement tangled together. "Master, look—we finally found your sword!"
I blinked at him, the words catching somewhere between disbelief and exhaustion. "My… sword?"
