Date: TC1853.07.28 — Morning
Location: Seven Peaks — Sword Mountain
The swords woke Raven before dawn.
Not with sound—they didn't speak in words. But through her Divine Anchor connection, she felt them stirring in their stone sheaths atop Sword Mountain. Twenty consciousnesses stretching, testing, wanting.
They'd rested through the night. Adjusted to existence. Learned the boundaries of their new forms.
Now they were restless.
Wielders, the impression came—not from any single blade but from all of them at once. We want to choose.
Raven rose from her meditation cushion, muscles stiff from the hours she'd spent processing her tribulation's aftermath. The spiritual energy in her quarters felt thicker than it had a week ago, responding to her presence with an eagerness that still surprised her.
"Today, then," she murmured. "Let's see who you pick."
***
Word spread through the sect like wildfire.
