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Of course he couldnt let her far. Maximos would always be there to catch her if she fell. Always.

He hid it well, but in a way Maximos was almost happy to see her fall. Happy, only that it gave him the chance to help her, to be a part of her life, and even to be needed. There was so much more to missing someone than seeing them or touching them, there was a feeling when one was a part of your life, not just present for it. And while Teira would likely never ever claim that Max was ever any less a part of her life...words were easy. There was icy tundra of a gap between words, and Maximos' heart. Actions like this were pure.

As she came back dressed, and dressed well, as well as armed with a walking stick, Maximos smiled. He smiled like a father watching a child's first steps, or perhaps one looking into a picture of his daughter as a baby and noting the woman she was standing before him. Max wasnt he father, but he had to play the roll at times. Two years ago....and then now...He was snapped out of his contemplation by her voice.

"Better?"

Yes!

He said suddenly, shaking his head and giving her another once over from toe to head and back.

Yes indeed! Walter will be proud but...

And with that he took a step forward, and brought both hands about even with her shoulders. A second step, and his hands reached around behind her neck as he said.

Dont forget these...

Four fingers tapped the back of her neck. Maximos' middle and index finger both touched her pale skin and would immediately cause a gentle warmth. It was like having warm water poured down her spine, but in reverse as it traveled, and across her back and chest and centered where Maximos' fingers touched.

Then he brought his fingers forward, tracing two lines from the spot on her neck, to the finger of her top. Where his fingers passed, the chain of two necklaces were formed, and when his fingers met in front of her there was pale white round light, which was then cut into by a jet black glowing cross, and when the glows faded Teira was wearing both of her necklaces.

Max would explain, two fingers pinching the newest moon pendant and lifting it slightly to bring it to her attention.

This may be light, but you bore it within you. Its yours, never lost.

Two fingers mirrored the previous motion with the black cross pendant as he set down the first.

This, is a piece of your own shadow and forever linked to me. Alive as long as I am.

Both pendants were placed down, and Max took the moment to center them on her as he said.

You'll never really be without them, but they are pretty to look at.

Finally his eyes rose, a small grin on his face. He looked over her, at her hair and down at her feet. He look at her silent for a tad longer than might be normal, or done in a normal happenstance and then finally looked her in the eyes as he said softly.

You look beautiful....Come now, we're going to be late.

His hand reached for hers and he pushed open the laboratory doors to lead them back into the main hall. Max knew the route as well as she hopefully did. Shadow Island was a maze of sorts if you didnt know where you were, and the Gym was a way away from the Lab.

Still he was steady and slow with his steps, never rushing her. Though Teira might just notice that without her command the shadows seemed to be assisting her, giving support here or there when a knee wobbled or an ankle threatened to give out.

There was a sound in the halls, a resounding bang, like clockwork. It would seem small and distant, but the farther they traveled the louder it became.

Very soon, they were standing before a set of double sliding doors about a dozen feet tall, and Maximos was slipping his hand from hers to pull them open. On the inside the walls looked like two of the man wall wooden panels that filled the room, so that when shut, when someone was within the Gymnasium it looked as if there were no doors at all. This room was everything Teira would remember. Weapon racks, magic circles drawn in the ground, all wood surfaces cleaner and shinier than mortally possible. The walls were made of 10ftwide wooden panels, each with a thick bar at about 4ft high, which met up with the bar on next panel, and gave the room an appearance slightly similar to a dance studio.

That was all usual. What was unusual was the thunderous BANG that came in time with all the others, and was in cue with Walter slamming what appeared to be one of the wall panels back into the wall. Only...for that split second it was visible it looked as if the wall panel had been slid out of the wall like some giant filing cabinet drawer and there was something behind it. Something large and...it was gone entirely too fast.

What mattered now was that Maximos was walking ahead of her to the center of the gymnasium where a large magic circle resided in the ground. And that as he stepped ahead he said.

Wait here my dear.

Now, Walter was handing Maximos what was very clearly a long sword, with a two handed grip, in a plain black sheath with gold trim. The details of the sword were infact, that it had none. It looked very simple and ordinary. He could be heard saying barely above his breath.

Be still M'Lady, they are for our protection...

And then he waved Teira forward saying.

Come Teira, I'd like you to meet someone.

Stop!

Maximos suddenly called out as if it her very life depended on it. At the moment, the Shadow was standing roughly one step back from the epicenter of the large and ornate magic circle drawn in the gymnasium floor. At the epicenter was one single ring with no magic symbols inside of it, and Teira was about to cross into that ring when Maximos called out. Teira would even find that if she ventured that step that shadows and tendrils and many manner of magics would whip from the shadows to suspend her.

Thats close enough.

He said, holding out his left hand, his palm vertical in the universal symbol for "stop". In his other hand was this ordinary sword. At closer inspection it was even more plain. This was a sword you could buy at any store on Gaia for 2gold, if even that. Still, Maximos held it with all the reverence of a nobleman. His hand was tightly grasped around the brown leather sheath, just above the hand guard, and it was close by his side, though it never touched.

Only when he was completely sure Teira would not move did the smirk begin to play on his cheeks.

There is so little in a name.

He said, lifting the sword and holding it out in front of him. Toward Teira but out of her reach.

An assortment of letters can never really describe a being. To really know someone, to really meet them...you must know their story.

Max's right hand turned so that the sword was horizontal now, both of his hands held in front of him. He looked down at it, as if pouring over every intricate detail. As if this was a finely crafted piece of work...which it clearly was not. And then he looked up and said.

Would you like to hear her story?

Excellent.

It was said not with Maximos' usual exuberance, but with the aire of an orator about to tell a formal assembly a grand tale which would follow them all their lives. Maximos even went so far as to cough and clear his throat, covering his mouth with his left fist, and returning the sword to a normal grasp as he did so.

Occasionally, as he spoke Maximos' eyes would fall to the sword like a lecturer checking his index cards. At times and for parts of the story his eyes stood on the sword almost as if reading the entire story from it. He did not rush his words, despite the length of the tale, but instead gave every piece emphasis and reverence as if not to do so would be the grandest folly.

Max told Teira the story, and it went like this.

We know not in what world only that it was peaceful, and we know not her name only that very long ago a young girl was born. We shall call her "Lady". Lady's fault that her parents were not ready for children. Her father and mother were both blacksmiths, and some of the very best in the land. There wares were wanted everywhere, and by most everyone. Couriers could not be trusted. Employees and apprentices had absconded with priceless creations in the past. Each and every deliver was done by either the young women's father, or mother. It was not

This of course meant that for long durations of time she was left in the care of her older sister. Lady began to notice that whenever mother was home and father was not, her sister seemed to be saddened and in tears. And whenever father was home and mother was not, her sister was absent all together as was he. This continued until Lady came of age. Mother and Father were always arguing.

At 10 years of age, she was finally trusted to be home by herself. It was during that winter that her sister, only age 16 passed away. Father blamed the harsh weather, mother seemed constantly saddened. And now when both parents left for delivery Lady took it upon herself to train with the forge. She would only use scrap metals so as not to waste Father's precious supplies or gain his notice. She was forbidden to craft on her own and Father's hand was vicious.

At 12 years of age Lady learned the truth, and she was not prepared. Mother was away, when Father came into her room. His hands moved on her in ways they shouldnt and...

Maximos stopped. This was one of those moments he appeared the be reading the sword, and he appeared most distraught. His left hand even moved to touch the blade as if comforting it. After a pause, he continued.

Lady endured the abuse of a man who missed his wife dearly, and monstrously. She did not tell her mother as her sister had, but learned from her mother what sort of "lies" were being spread by her sister about her father. And why when mother was home, her sister was always so saddened. Mother and Father argued more. Then with foolish bravery, with her mother absent she confronted her father. At 12 years of age she learned that her sister was killed out in the woods two years prior by her father...Lady no longer had the patience to endure the abuse of an evil man.

Piece by piece, filament by filament, bit by bit she began crafting her own sword. Her heart was filled with the desire to see a wrong made right. A very many times her father game back early and the searing hot blade had to be hide on Lady's person. Her blood. Her sweat, and her heart were poured into that sword, her first sword. Her only sword. And at age 14 when what her father had done to so many village girls came to light and the knights surrounded their home hunting for him, after she had found him over his mothers lifeless body, it was Lady who took his life.

Such was her first righteous act. The Order of the Lius took her in. Lady swore herself to righteousness. By her hand, the wicked would fall. So began her legend.

Ladies rise through the ranks of the Order was impressive. She, in few years showed what heartfelt determination does against those who were simply acting because they were told. By age 18, she had her own squadron. She had learned the art of spell writing and crafting and improved on her one sword. And then the Blackening arrived. These beings were the epitome of unholiness, of unclean, of disgust, and debauchery. They were "demons" and "monsters", and were a threat to the world as a whole and Lady fought them. With her every breath she fought them.

At age 20 Lady was legend. She was promoted head of several divisions of knights and the sight of her on the battlefield meant a victory was upon them. This world was young and had no gods, but a definite understanding of light and dark. If the Blackening was darkness, Lady was chosen by the Light. Through it all she fought with one blade, and while it seemed to at times be stronger than others, and while it had a legend all itself, it was only ever the same blade to her at hand been in her village two decades earlier.

At age 30, Lady fell. A mortal wound was struck while she dealt the final blow to the commander of the Blackening forces assaulting the headquarters of the Order. She fell, but the light would not let her pass. It infused itself with her and rose her anew. Her self and her sword were reborn to fight again.

At age 130, Lady had mounted countless quests and was world wide known for being singlehanded responsible for the golden era in which everyone lived. Her power was unmatched, her skills unequal. Wicked beings were killed simply by speaking her name. I dare say for you and I Teira, there is simply no option other than to underestimate her.

Maximos proceeded to list several other battles, statistics about thousands of troops versus much smaller thousands. Dark monsters of impossible scale and size felled. Battle after battle, legend after legend, and even as much as he told the feeling was constantly present that he had barely tipped the full scale of holy war this woman had seen. And then finally...

Roughly a thousand years later, Lady passed. But in her passing her sword was left behind to watch the world.

Maximos took a step back. He lift the sword in his right hand and then made a motion as if he was hanging it on a rack only instead the sword hung on the air. It bobbed gently on the ebb and flow of waves that could not be seen.

Now standing beside the sword he said.

Some say she placed herself within the blade, and as it was passed on from one Grandmaster of the Order of Leus to the next, over countless generations it there were as many theories as there were owners. And the sword only grew.

His arms opened wide as if he might hug the sword and the entire space around it. It was a dramatic gesture if there ever was one.

Teira! I present to you...

A pause for suspense, and anticipation.

...The Lady Glammour.

Immediately after speaking the name, Maximos took one large step outside of the spell circle. As if the name was a code word the magic began immediately. The "ordinary" quickly peeled off of the sword before Teira like flecks of paint, or loose scales, they torn off and fluttered into oblivion. Behind them was gold such as would put the sun itself to shame, and white so pure that any other seemed black and tarnished in comparison. This was a mighty sword. A two handed sword. Its blade was a flawless white with gold engraves traced throughout, its hilt was sunshine yellow and ivory. A thousand intricate details covered it, from filaments to runes, to small niches in the hilt with still yet undisclosed purpose.

But what was truly amazing, as Maximos began to step out from behind the magic circle, was that the sword was glowing. Not like the purple fires or violet glows that fill the house visible to those only with Dark Vision. This was real, honest to god light, which was so very bright that it stung even Maximos' eyes.

The light filled the entire magic circle and was threatening to burst free...indigo and violet poured along the floor bringing to life an intensely detailed magical array built into the floor and ceiling and walls, and even still the light expanded until suddenly...

Be still M'Lady, they are for our protection...

...The glow stopped. It retreated back until it was little more than sparkles dancing around the glowing sword. It was clear for anyone to see that it stopped of its own accord. If it hadnt, the house would have fallen down around their ears unable to withstand the light.

Max stepped around the circle toward Teira, speaking as he did so.

If it is dark, she will bring it light. If it is unholy, she will purify it. There is no wickedness this cannot end. And thankfully her name is lost lest my speaking it end me. Her power has faded over millenia as the divinity that fed her faded into obscurity. But this, a touch of a miracle remains. If it destroys your soul...

Both of his hands reached for hers to grab them tightly and squeeze them as he said.

...My precious Teira, she will piece it back together. And with but the statement of its name it can appear as harmless as anything to any eyes, no matter how old or refined.

There was a desperation in Maximos' eyes. Like costs had been paid that were most dear and were all worth it for her protection. To know she was safe. So that if she returned to that place, she did so with an exit firmly in hand. She would not be trapped by anything.

It may not vanquish the demonness but it will free you. All she asks is that you speak with her, so that she may judge your character.

Suddenly his eyes broke away, they fell to the floor drooping under the weight of an unseen thought or realization.

But...

He said, and it was as heavy a word as he had ever said in all of his life. The only words heavier were the ones that followed it.

...You do not have to, if you do not want. I...cannot force this on you.

He finally met her eyes again. It was there, in black and white for her to see. It may have pained him to say it, but it was true, it would always be true. And he would have it no other way. She could have this if she wanted it. But only if...

Maximos looked deeply at Teira, she was a pool of doubt. And why shouldnt she be? Teira was more shadow and darkness than Maximos was. Not more than he had ever been, but he understand. It was in her natural, her instinct, and unfortunately in her history to be wary in the face of the light.

Teira spoke defiantly, she was strong, attacking that which threatened her. Maximos very gently knelt down beside her, his hand rest calmly on her shoulder all as if to say, trust me. And then he said...

True light does not only burn, it warms. True light may chase away the darkness at dawn, but it knows also to give it its time at dusk. True light, respects the balance as we the dark do.

His hand squeezed gently before he stood and walked off behind her. As he said, the weapon asked that they commune alone.

There was silence in the wake of Maximos and Walter's absence. Teira was just left to bask in the faded glow of the sword. And soon, a calm began to fill the room. This was a place of war and combat, but it was slowly taking on a sense of peace. Of goodness. Of safety. They say it is always darkest before the dawn, and it is true that when a candle is lit the shadows surrounding it are the richest. In that way the light seemed to pull into itself, to focus and refine. Where seconds ago this room threatened to fall apart, now it seemed strengthened by the Lady Glammour's soft glow.

Fearful and yet somewhat relaxed by her aura, the shadows rushed to Teira's side. The room seemed a bit darker around her immediately as they came to her for comfort and support.

And then the silence was broken.

The voice that spoke was not the commanding voice of a crusader. This was the warm and loving voice of a mother. The only individual to ever speak so very kindly and warmly to someone who they simply did not know was Maximos himself. The Lady Glammour did not talk down to Teira, despite that she was floating and Teira was kneeling. She talked as if they were equals, all children of the light or dark, balance. This was a voice that had known pain, and weakness, and strength, and even loss and tears. But it was a voice belonging to one that had a strong sense of right and wrong. And immediately it addressed a pressing wrong, as it warmly, almost pleadingly said.

Please child of shadow, stand. The honor is mine, your creator has told me much about you. I wish only to know you, for myself.

The idea that something like this could lie, was akin to the idea that maybe tomorrow the Sun would infact prove itself to be just a big disk in the sky when it fell. What she said was truth. The Shadow's heard it as well and would gently attempt to nudge Teira into standing.

There was a pause, and then voice asked in the same way one might calmly ask over tea.

Do you know wickedness?

"If that 'feeling' is your doing, please stop. I don't like my feelings being tampered with no matter what the intention. For feelings are tied to thought and I will not have my mind nor my judgment clouded."

Now one might say Teira was being rude.

Lady did not ask to be placed her, she did not ask to be introduced or given or anything. Lady only wanted to speak to the woman she had been hearing about from Maximos for quite some time now.

The sword had a will and power all its own, yes, but had here to for used it to hover. It may have been light, and represented light, and righteousness. But the sword made no attacks. It could not help what it was any more than Teira could help what she was.

One might even go so far as to say the sword had every reason in the world to be hostile in return after being treated in such a way. But did it? No. Its tone, infact now took on a deeply apologetic sound, just as honest as before.

I apologize deeply, and sincerely, child of shadow.

It did not use its name, because Teira did not give it. Whether or not she knew it, using it without giving it was like Teira stealing the sword without it being offered. It was rude.

Your creator...

Maximos had referred to Teira as many things in relation to him. But Teira's opinion and view of Maximos also was not offered, Lady Glammour would not assume. It was rude.

...His employ has made this place inhospitable to my ilk. I do not desire to harm anything, or anyone present in this room but most are beyond reason.

As if cued by her words, though in complete truth not, a series of bangs could be heard echoing in the background. Her words were true, even if Teira did not realize it. Shadow Island was haunted, as most Reaper establishments are. Some of Maximos' best friends were ghosts, spirits, creatures of shadow and darkness. They did not like the light. They only knew to attack it, like animals. Prejudice.

In view of this the Lady only seemed saddened. Saddened that she had offended unjustly. Melancholy slipped into her warm voice as she confessed.

I cannot help what I am....I meant no offense. As you wish.

And the light was gone.

Now when she poised her question the Lady's voice did not seem as present as it was earlier. There was a barely audible strain that you likely would have had to be an elf or other supernaturally gifted creature to hear and even then not without work.

"Lady, Any who exist in this world know wickedness... and if they do not than they deceive themselves or are quite sheltered in a way I cannot fathom. I think, such an ignorance would make them blind and vulnerable. But to answer your question directly, yes. I know wickedness."

I am glad.

She said.

As you say, so many blind themselves to the wickedness that surrounds. Or worse, they confuse what is simply dark or mislead for what is truly wicked. I am proud to meet another who sees this world with open eyes.

Something was happening. There was an outline around the sword now. It did not glow, it was just a faded shape.

May I ask, what wickedness is, to you?

Pain?

What pain?

There was no pain. Light was more than just an element. Like darkness, light was for an alignment. It was a state of being an acting. How could anything, anything at all claim to be the light and yet harm something that acted so purely. No, more than purely she was compassionate. A blade not tempered with compassion, and yes even love is not light at all.

Teira would feel warmth. But not heat. It was the sort of warmth you feel when surprised with a visit from a dear friend. It was the warmth Teira felt when she saw Maximos for the first time in so long. When he hugged her so close. It was not being projected into her, but it was being projected from the sword. This was how it felt.

Teira embraced the blade and now, louder than before a serious of bangs echoed from the walls like crazed drum beats. It would take an elf to hear them, but they were present.

This, was the first touch of what The Lady Glammour was forged from, she had felt in so long. So very long. The vault was like prison...And now...

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, please it's not your fault! You don't have to go. You don't have to be alone."

Silence. The stunned sort. As Teira had managed to entirely steal the words from the spirits ethereal lips. There was only a feeling of trust, and comfort from the blade. Only now, so close would Teira see it. It was a silhouette. It was female, but lacked definition of features, and as her arms were wrapped around it, it was attempting to wrap back. There was a pale glow around the elf embracing the blade.

"Is it lonely in the light as well?"

The silence was broken, by a soft voice. A tearful voice. Tears of joy, tempered by with a dash of melancholy at the truth in the words that would follow. It said.

They bask in the light, in its warmth but care nothing for its source until it is absent. In Light there is purity and truth, and many do not care to see the truth of themselves illuminated.

Another thump in the background, this time almost normally audible.

They hide in their secrets...nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets. Sometimes a light shining in the darkness is not meant to chase the shadows away, but only guide a path. Sometimes...many times...that path must be walked alone...

A pause, and a pulse of warmth. Somehow she believe Teira would understand. Somehow now it may seem clearer why she requested this meeting, this communion be done alone. None need know the softness of the crusader but one that would wield it. And only one fit to wield it could reveal it.

You've crossed into the circle...

Lady commented, as if first recognizing this now, astonishment on her voice.

...Even despite your creators warning. You could have been undone! Were you not afraid child of shadow? Know you not fear?

"Forgive me... you were just trying to show me how you felt..."

Immediately, without the slightest of hesitations her voice softly and warmly responded.

There is nothing to forgive.

The Lady reached out in return to Teira. Her ghostly figure was intangible but the emotion intended by the action was clearly expressed and clearly mutual.

Patience, was a virtue, time was not of the essence. And Lady Glammour would hold this touch, this connection as long as need be for not only herself but Teira to feel it true and honest.

Lady did represent light, and crusading justice and even unrelenting purity. But she was every bit a woman. She may have hurt, even killed many tainted and dark beings, but she was never heartless. Never fearless. Never cold. Such things cannot exist in the light.

With every passing second it became clearer that Lady held no grudge or ill feelings toward Teira. She understood as Teira understood her.

"Teira. You can call me Teira, m'lady."

Teira smirked, and the smirk spread into a giggle as she shook her head.

Teira...

The word, the name, was immediately said and spoke with all the care of someone presenting a priceless jewel. Lady had no lips or mouth that did not stop her from letting the name flow softly and carefully, trying out its every contour while at the same time showing it every single bit of the reverence Maximos had just moments ago used to express her tale.

The silhouette, at the moment the name was said seemed fade in inverse. It did not become less visible, but more. Suddenly it was visible that she had long hair that flowed down her back, it became visible that she was wearing a very formal dress, even that the dress had as many ornate designs and frills as the sword itself. And her eyes, they were a piercing gold. Not gold as fire, but gold as staring into the sun. There was alot to be said about these eyes. They had stared down a thousand foes, slain a thousand enemies, made countless men and women confess and break under their own guilt...but they had also loved...comforted...cared...and concerned, brought men to their feet, brought soldiers courage and strength, and most importantly they had loved.



That sound again, echoing from the walls. Intense, and this time even louder, though Lady didnt seem to notice.

"That sounds SO strange I don't even know how to describe it. It's true he created me but... more than anything, Maximos is my most precious. My Nii-chan."

Teira grinned at Lady even as she laughed.

Lady laughed in return, it was a warm an light hearted thing. It was a laugh that put a thousand fears to rest, and brought high spirits. There simply was no hiding the things that Lady was. Her past greatness spread into her every gesture, but only as a persisting memory, what she was remained the past, what she is and would be was still an open ticket.

Then Teira spoke, and she listened. Her face was humble and still. She looked every bit like a supplicant before a master. Teira spoke wisdom and Lady listened to every word, she considered each one with all of the importance with which Teira spoke them. For someone to ever achieve or know, one must accept that against the sea of what they have yet to achieve and do not know, whatever they HAVE achieved or DO know is nothingness. One can always learn. Wisdom can come from any source, no matter how weak, or old, or righteous. Lady's enemies had taught her many of her life lessons through their actions. Teira, was in every regard Ladys teacher at the moment.

She spoke truths the sword knew, but was still honored to hear refreshed, repeated, and felt by one so young and relatively inexperienced. The true quality of someone is in what they can learn from their experiences, how much they gleam, not how much they experience.

The bitter sweetness to Teira's tone said she was opening and expressing her heart. This was a courageous act. She had nodded in agreement to the fact that people hide from the light in their secrets, and then responded by opening her own heart. And so, the moment she finished speaking there was a pulse from the sword, and Lady's imagine squeezed her hand. Just as her warmth had come to comfort her, so did her voice.

No, you are not.

She said it as if the very idea that anyone anywhere for any reason would call Teira a doll offended and hurt her deeply. But yet that hurt was not crushing it had a certain tone of empowerment. As if she would defend against and strike down anyone that would belittle Teira.

You are wise, and strong, and experienced beyond your years. You are an honor, a gift, to be in the presence of. Fear is power. Anything earned or achieved is greater when one has had to overcome fear, than when one is fearless and acts without it. Fear controls, overcomes, and saves us. But through love we may control it. For love we would face any fear, as I am sure you would for your most precious. Over my years I have come to learn that the truth is Teira, that true light, cannot exist from violence and rage and vengeance no matter how just all of the above may be. The real light must be warm, it must be bright. It must act from nothing more than love. One must not hate ones enemies but love them and act to free them from their own suffering. One must love those that they are to defeat even kill as much as any they protect. A death must never be meaningless. Every life is unique and the extinction of just one, good or evil is travesty.

Without love there can be no light.

Lady said. And as he said, she began to fade again, in inverse. Now the glint of gold in her hair was visible. It cascaded down either side of her head like rain and brought out the paleness of her face. Yet, still made the majority of its shape ambiguous. The blue and gold that adorned her outfit shone in light that simply was not there. It was majestic and glorious and all around beautiful. But the woman inside the arraignments was not in any way attempting to be what she was clothed in. She was herself, and that was all she could be. She was also still quite transparent. And then...



Again. She did not jump or even seem to react at all. Instead, looking Teira in the eyes, as she finished speaking she said.

Do you believe this to be true?

Conversation is a two way street, one listens and another speaks. At times two speak and no one listen, at times everything is heard and nothing is said.

Of the three examples what was transpiring here was the first, and something more.

Lady fell silent in turn as Teira spoke. She did not say a word, she did not move her image even the slightest bit except to meet her in the eyes. Because no one telling the truth, no one with anything to hide need fear a look in the eyes.

Lady understood her doubt, but understood it to be natural. Experience alone could teach this lesson.

Then Teira finished, and perhaps at this point expected Lady to be disappointed or to have a hint of sadness on her face? The two had gotten along so swimmingly, and this is what stood to be the first blemish in a spotless journey together. But, when the little shadow, when the young elf finished she was find that not a speck of disappointment on Lady's face. No, instead the woman would be smiling even brighter.

She would open her mouth to speak and then...

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

Now it was beginning to get hard to hear over the clamour. But Lady continued unphased or deaf to it. She said.

You truly are wise beyond your years.

She was never one for idle compliments and flattery, if she said something to that effect she meant it. And she would explain.

An absolute love, is like an absolute light. It is perfection, and of all beings immortal, and mortal I doubt any can claim such. But you have recognized the nobility in the aspiration and your own status against it. Such is wisdom as it shows your eyes are not blind to your own nature.

And again as Lady spoke she appeared more and more fleshed out. The cuts and details of her face were visible. It was soft, and yet bore a few weak white line scars. Her face was aged and yet kind. But more over, with the details now provided Lady almost appeared real before Teira. She did all but cast a shadow, or become actually tangible, but unlike before where here touch would simply pass through the elf, it now carried a warm as if a bundle of substance as now present where there was once none.

Now. With Lady Glammour in full view, the banging in the background became an insane and non-stop drum beat. If Teira was not infact an elf it likely would have been very difficult to hear the spirits words.

I come not expecting perfection my dear Teira. I come not desiring to find another as myself, as the dark, so does light have its limits. I come searching for a complement. For partnership. I come to find a heart as yours, and with each question I became revealed, as you yourself were revealed to be what I most desire.

Your nature was shown in your chosen words, as was mine. Heart, to heart.

All I ask, Teira, is that you wield me with that heart. That together we may follow that heart, and together achieve its desire. That, and that alone is the only charge I request of my owners.

Teira would feel the sword pull back, not away but back. As it did so, the image of Lady herself would stand and move backwards. Her face, and her hand still outstretched showed she was only changing positions for what would soon follow.

The solid golden and white blade hovered inside the image of the swords spirit, as if the sword was its core, a few feet in front of Teira and hovering. And then Lady spoke. Her tone was changed only for formalities sake, not out of a change of persona. There were many magics active in the sword placed by users and wielders of a thousand generations, being no more than a sword she was bound by them like traditions. Thus the questions, the need to commune, the hidden nature of the sword, so forth and so on. This was one of those, a ritual that she must abide by.

You drew me out of concern, and love, and yet while I was shrouded in mystery. Such is not binding.

The Lady said. Her voice was almost entirely drowned out by the sound of yet more banging. It echoed around the room, but the banging was centralized somewhere behind Lady Glammour. Teira would have to strain to hear her.

Now that I am revealed, there is a sacred writ that must be read, a charge that must be presented. After which you will be given a choice.

A pause to make sure, absolutely sure Teira heard her and understood.

Are you prepared?