Ayla sprinted toward the back of the shop, shouting for her father.
Raven stood beside the cursed sword — still holding it with one hand as if its weight meant nothing.
Lyria couldn't stop watching her.
Not just because Raven had saved Kara…
Not just because she held something that should have killed her…
But because every moment spent near that blade made Raven feel like a mystery Lyria desperately wanted to understand.
Heavy footsteps echoed from the workshop.
A tall man with broad shoulders and a soot-stained apron emerged — Master Dorian Ferrin, the kingdom's most renowned weaponsmith. His presence filled the room like a rumbling storm.
"What is this noise— Ayla, what have I told you—"
He stopped.
His gaze landed on Raven.
Then on the sword.
His face drained of color.
"…Girl," he said slowly, stepping closer, "How are you standing while touching that?"
Raven blinked. "It doesn't affect me."
Dorian stared at her as if she were an impossibility brought to life.
Lyria swallowed.
Some instinct deep in her whispered that this moment would matter — far more than any of them understood.
Dorian approached cautiously, hands raised as if near a wild animal.
"Let me see."
Raven extended the sword with no fear at all.
Dorian didn't dare touch it immediately. He hovered his hand over the blade.
A faint pulse of darkness rippled outward — pushing his hand away.
Lyria gasped.
Kara actually stepped behind her.
Raven… remained perfectly calm.
Dorian tried again, forcing his hand closer this time. His palm brushed the hilt—
He recoiled instantly.
A sharp hiss escaped him as he clutched his wrist.
Black veins had already begun crawling up his skin.
"Father!" Ayla moved toward him, panicked.
Raven stepped forward, grabbed Dorian's shoulder , and the curse marks bled off his skin and into hers — vanishing inside her like smoke swallowed by shadow.
Lyria's breath hitched.
She watched, stunned, as the last of the dark energy vanished.
Raven released him , She clenched her teeth slightly and shook her head a little to dispel the feeling of dizziness; pain was evident on her face, even though she tried to hide it.
She clenched her fist , I really hate that ability she has .
Dorian stood there, speechless.
Even Ayla stared at Raven with a mixture of awe and fear.
Finally, Dorian found his voice.
"That sword is demon-forged," he said hoarsely. "Born from a sealed dungeon no human should enter. Anyone who touches it dies. Soldiers. Mages. Even priests."
He pointed a trembling finger at Raven.
"But you… it reacts to you."
Raven looked down at the blade in her hand — for once unsure.
"…I don't know why."
Dorian's eyes sharpened.
"It's not harming you. It's obeying you."
The sword pulsed — a faint glow along its runes, as if responding to his words.
Everyone froze.
Even Raven's eyes widened.
Lyria felt her blood run cold and warm at the same time.
Who are you, Raven?
What are you?
Dorian exhaled shakily.
"…Let me try one last test."
He gestured for Raven to hold the sword out firmly.
She did.
Dorian extended both hands toward the blade, channeling a surge of blacksmith's mana — a dull red glow coating his palms.
When his hands neared the sword—
The sword's runes lit up.
Bright.
Violent.
A gust of wind exploded outward, rattling the weapon racks.
Alya screamed.
Kara swore and grabbed Lyria's arm.
But Raven…
Raven didn't flinch.
Her stance didn't shift an inch as the sword flared with dark light — not threatening her, only reacting to Dorian's mana like a beast protecting its chosen master , Before Dorian could remove her hands, the sword began to absorb the mana that was covering his hands.
Dorian backed away fast.
"That settles it."
He wiped sweat from his brow, staring at Raven with something like resignation.
"That sword chose you."
Silence thickened.
Lyria's heart hammered.
She felt like she was witnessing the beginning of something dangerous… powerful… inevitable.
Raven lowered the blade.
"…Will you sell it to me?"
Dorian hesitated.
Not because he doubted — but because he was calculating the consequences.
"That sword will bring you trouble," he warned. "Many people wanted it and failed. Some died trying. If the wrong factions learn you wield it…"
He shook his head.
"You'll be hunted."
Raven's voice was steady.
"I already am."
Lyria's breath caught.
Her chest tightened painfully " What does Raven mean by that? "
Dorian let out a long, defeated sigh.
"…Very well."
Ayla stared at him.
"Father—"
"She is the only one alive who can wield it."
He looked Raven directly in the eyes.
"I'll sell it to you. But listen carefully, girl."
Raven nodded.
"That sword is not a tool. It's a will. A hunger. It will test you again and again. If you lose control, if your heart ever wavers—"
His gaze darkened.
"—it will consume you."
The sword pulsed once more in Raven's hand, like a heartbeat.
Lyria shuddered.
Raven, however, simply met Dorian's warning with a quiet, unwavering voice.
"…Then I'll make sure it never wins."
Dorian nodded once.
"Then it's yours."
Dorian said seriously, "But make sure no one else touches the sword."
Raven said calmly, "No one will touch the sword."
Lyria let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
The sword was sold.
But the unease in her heart…
the fascination…
the fear for Raven…
None of that left.
Because as Raven slid the cursed blade into its temporary sheath, Lyria knew—
This wasn't just a purchase.
This was the beginning of a path Raven could never turn back from.
⸻