Oathblade
This Memento has taken the shape of an Oathblade—an unbreakable bond, forged in the fires of shared hardships and adversity.
The society that surrounds us can feel taxing and burdening in its imposed constructs and social facades. Interaction with its people often feeling empty, void of substance. Their negative force draining us from the moment its harmful presence begins to orbit our own. Pleasantries exchanged out of habit. Smiles drawn on masks to hide the truth and the scars. To hide life.
And then there are those that are the opposite, the once-in-a-lifetime connections.
No matter how black the darkness grows, or how deep we spiral into our own despair.
They hold on. They stand firm.
Unmovable as the mountain stone.
A blade tempered through time and the pressure of countless shared battles.
Threads woven into the same tapestry, long before the beginning of time itself.
No matter how black their darkness grows, or how deep they spiral into their own despair.
We hold on. We stand firm.
Together you walk, through unfamiliar woods reached by a shared wanderlust.
The distance between you and any form of civilization feels like rediscovering a long-lost piece of yourself. The sound of birdsong and the meandering stream lull your minds into an almost meditative state. You are both singular, sunk into your deeper selves — yet somehow aware of one another, connected through the touch of each other’s hands, and through your long-bound spirits.
Absentminded, you regale in the bounty of nature and in companionship.
But as if waking from slumber, you notice the leaves around you have turned a solemn, more primal hue. The sun, warm and bright before, now envelops everything in a different light. Darker. More ancient.
You look into your companion’s eyes and see your questions reflected therein.
A sudden sound snaps your attention to the edge of the path.
You listen — trying to isolate it from the ambient rustling and birdsong.
With a subtle gesture, both of you move to a more concealed vantage point, nearer to the source.
All the color drains from your face as you spot the strange creatures responsible for the noise.
Armored, armed with blades and bows.
A wave of contradictory feelings washes over you.
Confusion and resolve.
Fear and bravery.
Anger and excitement.
Instinctively, your hand reaches for the weapon on your side.
You pause as your mind hesitates.
Did I carry this with me earlier?
We were just walking in the—
But there’s no time to dwell. One of the creatures perks up, snarling, eyes fixed on you.
These creatures are not supposed to be here.
You feel it in every bone.
Neither are you — but their ill intent separates the imprint their presence leaves from yours.
Though you know not how, you feel it deep within: you’ve crossed a border, a veil.
And though your feet no longer tread your earth, this one seems to accept your reverence for it.
More of them notice you now. They growl and screech, taunting you to step from the shadows.
Your eye is drawn to the honed edge of the weapon in your hand.
You feel power.
You feel capable of righting a wrong — of answering injustice.
It all happens before you fully grasp it, guided by reflexes you didn’t know you had.
As two of the creatures draw close, you spring from your hiding spot.
Moments later, they lie in pieces behind you — bloodied, severed.
Your weapon drips red.
An amalgam of emotions again swells within:
Awe.
Disbelief.
Pride.
You close your eyes.
A breeze whispers through the boughs above — you almost hear the voice or the forest speaking of gratitude.
Don’t stop now, guardian.
Your eyes open, filled with resolve.
A faint smile graces your lips as your feet launch you toward the host.
At first, your zeal carves a path — each strike slaying another foul creature.
You and your companion fight like twin tempests.
But they are many.
Your breath shortens.
Your limbs grow heavy.
Your momentum diminishes.
Your companion still holds their ground — cutting through the swarm with unbending purpose.
Then, a darkness pours over you — a colossal shadow cast by some towering beast.
Flames consume trees, roots torn from soil. You feel as though you can hear the earth itself scream.
Your pride turns sour.
Helplessness and fear dominate.
You see your other half being overrun, swarmed.
You lose sight of them.
Panic.
Despair.
Then a sharp blow.
Pain.
Blood flows from you.
Then only darkness.
Your eyes open.
You’re both on the path again.
You’ve reached a crossroads.
A magnificent tree stands between the forks.
Pinned to its trunk you see an envelope.
As you draw near, you can make out the lettering.
It spells both your names.
