The rain over the Rust Sea never stopped.
Lee Zaou knew this because he had counted every drop for the past seven years. Or at least, it felt that way. At twelve years old, he was already tall for his age lean muscle wrapped around a frame that moved like oiled wire but his eyes told the real story. They were old. Ancient, even. One gold, one silver, and both holding a weight that made adults look away.
"The hell you staring at, freak?"
The voice came from behind him. Goro. Bigger. Meaner. The self appointed king of the scavenger children who picked through the skeletal remains of the Rust Sea's dead cities.
Lee didn't turn around. He was focused on something half buried in the red mud a glint of metal, a whisper of something alive in his chest. The mark. The one he'd been born with. A spiral of black and white that sat over his heart, and whenever something important was near, it burned.
"I said " Goro's hand grabbed Lee's shoulder, spinning him around. " are you deaf, or just stupid?"
Lee smiled. It was a nice smile. Open. Friendly. The kind of smile that made people forget he'd been fighting for his food since he could walk.
"Neither," Lee said. "Just busy. What do you want, Goro?"
Goro's crew fanned out behind him five kids between ten and fourteen, all wiry and desperate, all carrying makeshift weapons. Rusty blades. Sharpened pipes. The currency of survival in the Borderless Wilds.
"Toll," Goro said, holding out his hand. "You found something. That means you pay the finder's fee. Thirty percent."
"And if I don't?"
Goro grinned. It wasn't a nice grin. "Then we take a hundred percent. And maybe one of your ears. My mother always said I needed a new earring."
Lee sighed. He could feel it now the thing in the mud. It was calling to him. Singing. And the mark on his chest was burning so hot he thought his shirt might catch fire.
"Okay," Lee said, still smiling. "Tell you what. I'll make you a deal."
Goro's eyes narrowed. "What kind of deal?"
"I'll give you the finder's fee fifty percent, even if you can land one hit on me. Just one. Anywhere."
Silence. The rain kept falling. Somewhere in the distance, a rust worm screamed as it devoured an old bridge.
Goro's crew started laughing. Goro himself looked like he'd just been offered candy.
"You're joking," Goro said.
Lee shook his head. "I never joke about money."
"Kid, I've got six inches on you and forty pounds. I've killed three men. Men, not kids. You really think "
"I think," Lee interrupted, still smiling, "that you're wasting time."
Goro's face twisted. He pulled a rusted cleaver from his belt the same one he'd used on those three men and swung it at Lee's head.
He didn't even see Lee move.
One moment, Goro was swinging. The next, he was on his back in the mud, the cleaver gone, his arm numb from shoulder to fingertips. Lee stood over him, still smiling, still calm, holding the cleaver by its handle.
"Close," Lee said. "But no."
He tossed the cleaver back to Goro, who caught it on instinct. Then Lee turned and walked to the thing in the mud.
He dug it out with his bare hands.
It was a sword.
But no that wasn't right. It was the sword. Lee knew it the moment his fingers touched the hilt. The blade was black as void, unmarred despite centuries in the mud, and when Lee pulled it free, the rain stopped.
Not faded. Not lessened. Stopped. Every drop froze in midair, suspended like a million tiny crystals.
"What the " one of Goro's crew whispered.
Then the sword spoke.
Finally.
The voice was neither male nor female, young nor old. It was simply voice, pure and ancient, resonating in Lee's skull like a bell made of thunder.
I am Onyx Tempest. Devourer of Souls. Blade of the Last Sun King. And you, child, are the first worthy hand to touch me in three hundred years.
Lee looked at the sword. At the frozen rain. At Goro and his crew, who were backing away slowly, their faces pale.
Then he laughed.
"Nice to meet you," he said. "I'm Lee. You hungry? I know a place that does really good grilled rat."
The sword was silent for a long moment.
...What?