Trepidation. Ava pauses at the top of the stairs, hands clenched by her sides. She fingers the hem of her coat, thick and crisp; perfection. A blinding reminder of the commitment she's made - the commitment to her sanity. She can feel it so it must be real. She could see the shadows so they must be real. She takes a deep breath and takes the first step, half expecting the world to shatter. Nothing happens and she continues more confidently. This is where she's meant to be. This is her purpose. Finally, she’s at the bottom and it takes her time to adjust to the darkness. The torch gives off enough light to reveal the runic tablets, faintly glowing enough to separate each other but not enough for light.

She steps further into the room and her hands reach out, brushing over the wall – the tablets. They seem to vibrate under her fingertips and though it appears they are speaking, they are not speaking to her and it is a whisper she cannot hear well enough to understand. Her fingertips continue along and her hand drops because she hears it. It’s a humming, faint still but louder than the rest. In the furthest corner of the room she sees it as if it’s a beacon, but it is no different to the rest. Only it’s calling to her.

Oh come now, it calls and Ava realises that she can hear it clearly now, hear it in her mind. Let’s not be so dramatic. Hurry up and let me out, will you?

Trepidation. She falters and turns to look back at the stairs but they seem so far away now. Her fingers grip the hem of her coat, illuminated by the glow of the torch but still so pristine; still that blinding reminder. She steps forward and her hands reach out and touch the tablet – seemingly identical to the rest but it is her own. It hums under her fingertips, almost purring and she pulls it free. In an instant it is in her hands, the metal cool to the touch. Chains clink and she gets a feel of the weight, turning it this way and that. The scythe is sharp and she is cautious but it feel s natural to her as if she had been handling it all her life.

”I’m not crazy,” she says, assuring herself and she runs her finger along the blade, just enough to draw blood and feel the sting. ”This isn’t a dream.”

No, you’re not crazy. And this isn’t a dream. The voice hummed in her mind, feminine and sharp. It had an edge to it but it wasn’t entirely threatening.

”Who are you? What are you?”

Verity. What I am is a weapon. I was a wyvern but that was in the past. Who are you?

”Ava. Avery Wright.”

Avery.

”Don’t call me that.”

But that’s your name. That’s what I’ll call you.

Ava pursed her lips. ”Fine, Veri.” Verity hissed in her mind but she didn’t say anything else. With a sigh, Ava turned and exited the cove. The weapon was supposed to help her fight the shadows but Ava had the feeling they may but heads more often than not. Still, it was better than nothing.

I can hear you, you know. Ungrateful little..

”Do you have to be such a b***h?”

Do you have to be such a brat? Look. We’re going to be working together for a while – at least until your likely demise at which point they’ll chuck me back in the wall for the next one to come along and claim me – assuming I don’t also die. I have to obey you but it doesn’t mean I have to like it or agree with everything you say. Verity sighed and her voice grew softer. I chose you not the other way around. You’ve got spark and you held on as long as you did and I admire you for that. But if you’re going to be stupid and ignore what I say just shove me back in the wall and save me the trouble of trying to keep you alive.

There was a long pause and Ava stared down at the shine of the metal, blue runes glowing softly. It was still humming and she gave a sigh. Verity was right.. sort of.

”It goes both ways. We’re not always going to agree on everything but we can at least agree on fighting. I’ll listen to you in battle, I’ll give you that much. At least until I find my bearings…”

We’re just going to have to learn to agree to disagree, Avery. Otherwise it’s going to be very unpleasant.

”I told you not to call me Avery.”

What’s wrong with Avery? It’s your name, isn’t it?

”It’s a long story,” she sighed. ”Let’s just go.”