"Come in, dear."

I hesitantly opened the door, poking my head in. I didn't know what I'd expected, really. Maybe a tight confinement filled with southern mats and metal teapots and trays, old spell books in book shelves and crystals of all colours. But Gedallion's home was an ordinary one, with a stone countertop and wooden kitchen table with a vase that looked like it was from the local market. I suddenly felt very judgemental and ashamed.

"Oh. I wondered when you would show up. It's noon. You must've been in great pain all morning."

I looked at my hands, now oozing liquid from where the blisters of the burns had burst. I was in excruciating pain, but it was numbed out by the hole in my heart where my brother had been.

Gedallion was beautiful, really. Being only ten myself, I thought she was old, but she was only twenty-five, with dark brown, short hair, strong thighs and a pointy, freckled nose. She was clad in a plain, white blouse and flowy trousers. She started roaming through her cupboards, that were filled with jars of jewel-coloured jellies, until she found a beautiful, emerald green one that apparently was what she searched for. She opened the lid and took a spoon.

"Open up!"

Under normal circumstances, I would've hesitated eating something strange-looking from someone I didn't really know or trusted, but these were not normal circumstances. I just did what I was told. The jelly had an unpleasant consistency but created a cooling sensation in my mouth and had a fresh, sweet citrus taste. It only took a couple of minutes for it to begin its absorption through my stomach wall into my bloodstream, and I felt the pain in my hands disperse and disappear. I looked down, and saw the burst blisters already looked a couple of days old. I looked up at Gedallion. I must've had a million questions in my eyes.

"It contains assall, a substance found in cave trees, enabling them to absorb other light than that from the sun for energy. Sit down", she told me gently but firmly, pointing at her kitchen table.

I sat. She went to another cupboard and brought forth a plate of pastel pink, brittle cookies with a white and dark pink glaze.

"Take one."

I took one.

"Eat."

I ate. It was delicious.

"Now..." Gedallion began. "The reason for your blisters is the sword. I think you figured that out." I nodded a little. "It has chosen you. That's not any old battle sword like the rest of them. That amethyst was gifted to me by the living crystals of the South Pole, as I have told you. The crystals of the South can use a magical force when battling. They have infected that amethyst with some of that power, enabling the one holding its heart to use that magical power when yielding it. But it doesn't work for anyone just holding the sword. That sword must choose you. And it chose you."

"Why?" I asked.

"The crystals are great at warfare, but they prefer peace. They are of the strict conviction that war should only be used if it's necessary to maintain peace, as so is their culture. The person the sword chooses must be the one whom, with that sword in hand, will maintain peace."

"But it IS peace!" I protested. "And I'm only ten!"

"Maybe, the sword wanted time to get to know you."

"But I don't want it."

"It doesn't matter what you want. It has chosen you."

"I wish I'd picked up a different sword yesterday."

"It doesn't work that way. It was bound to find you, one way or other. Take another cookie."

I took one.

"Eat."

I ate. It was still delicious.

"And the blisters?" I asked carefully.

"Ah", Gedallion said, pulling her fingers through her short hair to get it away from her thick, shapely eyebrows. "That's if you neglect the sword. It's not the sword being evil. It's your own body hurting from longing. Your hands don't need to hold the sword regularly, but you need to accept the sword as your own in order for your hands not to burn down to the bone from that longing." She stood up then and went to a chest in one corner of the kitchen, from which she produced the sword. I flinched; it was still covered in blood. Gedallion turned to me and reached the sword out towards me, palms up. "Take it."

"But I don't want it!"

"You have no choice."

"Is there any way I can get rid of it?"

"Yes."

I felt a flicker of hope within me.

"How?"

"By gifting it to someone you truly love." I was taken aback. "But it must be because it is a gift. Not because you want to get rid of the sword or to save that other person. If you do that, you will burn. It begins with the hands, but then the burns will consume your entire body, and you will die."

I took another cookie, this time without being told. 

I stood by the rose chest at the end of my bed now, taking a deep breath. I looked down on my palms. I had accepted the sword that day when I was ten, and my hands had never burned again. Yet, I had never opened the chest since I put the sword there as soon as I came home from Gedallion. 

My hands trembled as I opened it, and there it lay. It was covered in a thin layer of dust that had managed to enter the chest, and the amethyst was matte. The blade was still covered in old blood. But other than that, you could see the excellence of the sword, how exquisitely made it was. I didn't believe that could ever be erased no matter how dirty or neglected the sword got.

I lifted it up. It felt oddly familiar in my hands, and much more stable than I remembered from that time when Madara died, probably because I had grown quite a bit since then. I was still for a while. Then, I changed clothes to a clean robe with a belt. I took an extra one and packed it into a fabric along with some long-lasting conserved bread, apples and cheese. I filled a flask with water and tied it to my belt along with the tied-together fabric with my extra robe and food. I put my sword on my back, fastening it with my belt.

Then, I went out.

When I was almost out of the village, a small figure suddenly jumped out before me, causing me to shout out in surprise.

"Micha! What are you doing out so late?"

The little girl, my one true friend, crossed her arms. "Where are you going?"

"It's a secret."

"Can I come?"

I started walking, passing her in a wide half-circle. I knew if I looked at her, I would crumble up into a crying mess.

"No."

"I can help!"

Her desperation made my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. I turned round, kneeled down, refusing to look at her but still putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Mich, look. I'm sorry. I love you very much, okay?"

She didn't protest as I turned and left, but I could hear her snivel.

I was in the gates of the city when another voice caught up with me.

"Well, isn't that a sight."

I turned round.

"Gedallion."

"I'm glad you're carrying it."

"I'm afraid I have no choice."

"There's always a choice."

"Don't play mysterious with me."

She smiled, her eyes framed by crow's feet, her hair now reaching her waist, thick and lush. She was clad in a long, purple silk robe. She really was beautiful. I felt a pang in my heart of regret I was leaving, not knowing when or how I was going to come back.

"May I ask where you are going?" she asked. "Out of pure curiosity.

I felt my eyes darken.

"I'm going to get my brother's body back", I said. "I'm going to get my brother's body back from the king."