Prize clapped Vival on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you well,” he said. “Your sword painted a dire picture.”
“My sword…” Vival repeated, looking uneasy.
Prize gestured and a woman appeared carrying a long cloth. She opened it to reveal a familiar looking blade.
“Reunited at last!” it said, excited.
“Tom!” cried Vival, hurrying to it and running a dark finger along the blade affectionately.
“Hello, Nyla! You survived after all! That’s pretty impressive.”
“It is impressive!”…