June 7, 2011
The curved metal felt cool and smooth to the touch as I ran my fingers over it. There was no moon that night so my eyes could not see the full beauty of this sword. I used my hands as my eyes and felt the sharp point at the end, running down the curved blade, meeting the worn leather, tying on the handle made of ivory. I slipped my hand into the grooves on the handle created by many hands before me that had wielded this sword. I could feel the energy surging from the weapon as I held it.

Looking past the sword, into the pitch black darkness, I nodded at the person I knew was there.

“Tonight is the night.” The voice spoke out of the darkness, directed at me. It was a voice that I knew so well yet was still afraid of. It was a voice that was old and wise, yet still strong. “Take your new weapon and be strong.”

With one last look at the beauty I held in my hands, I dropped the blade down and sheathed it in one fluid motion. I paused to look into the darkness once more, painting the image of the voice in my mind. Then I turned and began running. The weight of the sword gave me strength and determination. I was now alone, plunging into a darkness darker than the clothes I wear, darker than the sheath of the sword I carried, darker than even darkness itself.

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