Page 34 of Elven Oath

Drago raises an eyebrow, his face full of curiosity. “Changed? What do you mean?”

I take another breath, feeling the weight of their attention on me. “It wasn’t just a dagger anymore. When I pulled it out, there was this flash of light, and it... extended. It became a sword. A sword light enough for me to use.”

Aodhan’s eyes narrow, and he glances at Falkor and Drago, who both look as stunned as I feel. “That doesn’t sound like any magic I’ve ever heard of,” Drago says slowly, scratching his chin. “And trust me, I’ve heard of a lot.”

Falkor, for once, doesn’t have a joke or a quip ready. He looks serious, thoughtful even. “Are you sure it wasn’t some kind of trick or illusion? Sometimes in the heat of battle, things can seem different.”

“No,” I say firmly, shaking my head. “It wasn’t an illusion. I felt it in my hands. The weight, the power. It was real.”

Aodhan was silent, his expression unreadable. He was thinking, I could tell, but he wasn’t dismissing me. He believed me, or at least he was considering the possibility that what I was saying could be true.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he says, his voice softer now, more coaxing.

I swallow hard, trying to recall every detail. “When I pulled the dagger out, I felt this... surge. Like something inside me woke up. Then there was a flash, and the blade just... grew. It became this long, slender sword, but it felt light in my hands, as if it was made for me.”

Aodhan exchanges another look with Falkor and Drago, the three of them clearly thinking through what I’d said. “And this sword... you’ve never seen it before?” Aodhan asks.

“No, never,” I reply. “It was just a simple dagger, a ceremonial one. Nothing special really.”

Falkor frowns, his brow furrowing. “It doesn’t sound like ordinary Elf magic. Elf blades are crafted with intent, but they don’t just change form like that.”

Drago nods. “And it wasn’t the magic of dragons either. We can forge weapons with magic, yes, but they don’t shift in battle without some kind of specific enchantment. That’s ancient magic you’re talking about.”

Ancient magic. The words echo in my mind, sending a chill through me. I had never thought of myself as having any special power.

I wasn’t trained in the magic arts like the scholars back in the castle. I didn’t have the strength of a dragon or the natural-born prowess of warriors like Aodhan and his friends.

“I don’t know why it happened,” I admit, feeling a strange mixture of vulnerability and frustration. “But it did. I wasn’t imagining it.”

Aodhan’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see curiosity, but also concern. He wasn’t afraid, but he seemed cautious. “I believe you,” he says quietly. “But we need to understand what this means.”

I nod, though I wasn’t sure what to think myself. What did this mean? Was there something more to me than I had ever known? Some ancient magic tied to my bloodline, my people?

Then Falkor speaks, breaking the tension in the air. “Well, if you’re going to wield a magical, self-extending sword, I suppose it’s better it happened while saving our hides, eh?” He grins, but there was a seriousness behind his usual humor.

Aodhan didn’t smile, though I could see a faint twitch of amusement in his eyes. “If there’s something deeper at work here, we’ll figure it out. But for now, Vevina, be cautious. Magic like this doesn’t just appear without reason.”

I nod, a weight settling in my chest. He was right. This wasn’t normal, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening, it wasn’t just coincidence.

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