S02E04 - 03 The Unbound Fang – A Blade of Choosing - Part 2

The twilight lays soft across the ruined stones, the last blue of day melting into the silver hush of night. The air is still, holding its breath.

Tharuk is alone at the camp’s edge, checking his gear, sharpening the old bite of his axe. He works quietly, steady, like the world isn’t shifting all around him.

He hears her approach—soft steps, light as memory.

He doesn’t turn right away. Feels her presence settle near, warm and cold all at once. Then her voice, soft but certain:

Ciaranna:
"Why did you give it to me?"

Tharuk stops sharpening. Lets the whetstone fall still in his hand.

He turns then. Slowly. Looks at her.

The twilight frames her like a painting—hair like flowing silk, eyes catching the dim light like embers in the dark. There's a stillness to her, but not the fragile kind. A stillness carved by choice. By survival.

For a moment, the words don’t come easy.

He clears his throat.

Tharuk:
"Because it’s yours."

She says nothing, waiting.

Tharuk sets the axe aside, resting his forearms on his knees. His voice is low, not rough but careful, like laying stones to cross a river.

Tharuk:
"Not 'cause you needed protectin'. Not 'cause you needed remindin'."

"It’s 'cause you already walk the kind of road that blade was born for. Hard. Lonely. Chosen when others would’ve bent the knee."

"You didn’t just survive, Ciaranna. You refused what was easy. What was expected."

He glances down for a moment, thumb brushing a scar along the back of his hand, before meeting her eyes again.

Tharuk:
"I gave it to you because I needed you to know... you ain't alone in that. You ain't walkin' that path unseen."

A pause.
The fire behind them cracks once, sending a brief flare of light across the stones.

His voice softens, rough around the edges but steady.

Tharuk:
"A blade like that... it’s not about cuttin’. It’s about carvin’ out your own place. Makin’ your own name when the world’s too damn eager to write it for you."

He shifts, uneasy, but holds her gaze all the same.

Tharuk:
"You’re beautiful, Ciaranna. Not 'cause of the twilight, or the songs folk’ll someday sing about you."

"You’re beautiful 'cause you ain’t finished bein' forged yet. You’re still shapin’ who you are. With blood, and fire, and choice."

He leans back slightly, not needing to fill the silence that follows.

Tharuk:
"That's why."

He doesn’t reach for her. Doesn’t speak again. Just leaves the truth there between them, quiet and heavy and real, like the blade resting in her hands.

Safe Share Link