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Malika felt no joy at the destruction she had wrought, only a grim satisfaction. She had spent enough of her anger to bring it back under control, and in the process she had cleared much of the surrounding forest of the evil that had once lived here. It would take time for the Lycander population to regain its former numbers.
Even Morduth seemed to exude a kind of contentment at the work completed here. The sword was fully awakened now, quickened by the blood it had spilled -- and drank -- and was now bonded to the girl who carried it. Both were shocked but intrigued by this.
For Malika she'd had no idea of the sword's true nature when she entered the forest, but the blade's sentience simply made sense to her now. Perhaps she had somehow always known there was more to that old rusted blade when she first picked it up, some dark intuition that had led her to choose that weapon over the others on her father's mantle.
For Morduth, it was surprise at the nature of the wielder but not her warrior's spirit.
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Inspired by (sequel to):
Judgement shifted in his slackening grip, causing Orthael to clench his fist with a hundred battles'…Weight and Depth
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