Ezekial tread carefully down the stone-cold corridor, his curiosity leading his steps. He knew the fabled sword had been transferred into the dungeon three days ago. And in those three days, his mind had been tormented.

Everyone in the kingdom knew the Sword of Corruption. It was the weapon used to seal the restless souls of the dead during the war against the ghouls. Ghosts that rustled the ground and escaped their prison to avenge the world that trapped them.

Although Ezekial was born shortly after the war, he had heard terrible stories about the ghouls who once staked the land in a feeding frenzy. For years, he had nightmares of those yellow eyes and purple, decayed claws of dead skin.

He remembered sliding his hands through the pages of his picture books as a child. His hands trembled as he stared into the cold, dead eyes of the demon. Its yellow teeth had fallen from its mouth, decayed from the hands of time. It seemed to mouth to him, "You are next," slowly, with a voice of venom and smoke.

That would be when Ezekial dropped the book and ran to his father in fear.

However, now that he was older, Ezekial knew better than to run to his father.

Sliding against the narrow walls, he peeked out to see two guards clad in silver armor peering straight down the torch-lit hall.

He quickly looked back, holding his breath.

Had they seen him?

He waited for a beat, letting his heart be the metronome, then let out a quick sigh of relief.

For a normal person, he would certainly have no chance of getting past the guards.

However, he was familiar with the castle's architecture, practically memorized it. He felt along the wall carefully, feeling for a single loose stone. When his hand felt a twitch of movement, he pushed down.

His walls silently moved, paving a new path for the lad to walk down.

Ezekial narrowed his eyes, the corridor was too pitch to see through. He walked past the moving doors into the darkness, gasping as the doors shut behind him. For a moment, he panicked. If he got lost in the labyrinth under the castle, he may never be found.

He grabbed his right hand with his left and focused his energy. Closing his eyes, he waited for the inevitable pain to prick his fingers.

He flinched back, fanning his left hand frantically. His right hand glowed with the beginnings of a fire. It smoked and briefly burned his fingers before the flame stabilized. The hallway began to glow, reflecting the light orange color of the fire.

"That practice finally paid off!" He smiled to himself. His family had been gifted with magic for generations. However, it took great practice to control it.

Casually strolling through the musky room, Ezekial made his way to the castle's treasure.

Upon arrival, he showed no hesitation when opening the hidden door.

After so many years of reading and hearing about the Emerald engraved sword, Ezekial took it upon himself to see it.

The room was covered in stained glass, each window portraying the moment the King used the sword to end the war against the ghouls.

Looking up at the largest window, Ezekial saw the face of his father in all his glory.

Ezekial's father is the King, hero, and keeper of the Kingdom.

Ezekial knew his father eradicated the ghouls that once walked the Earth. Yet, he had his doubts. How could a single man gain the power of such a sword? He could certainly understand why the King would be hesitant to show others such a powerful artifact. But the history behind it and how it was made was shrouded in more wraps than Ezekial could ever unravel.

For example, for such a well-known weapon, why was there no real picture of it? Every painting was different in shape, color, and size. The only thing that stayed consistent was the emerald embroidered in the center of the helm.

His father remained tight-lipped on the sword's creation, claiming he was the "chosen one." Ezekial knew that was a bald-faced lie. Something like that was so cliche, it had to be false.

At the foot of the stairs, Ezekial began to climb to the Sword of Corruption.

"You have been lied to," a voice echoed above him.

Lied to?

Ezekial began to remember his mother, the sweetest woman to grace the Earth.

She would hold his hand and swing him around the palace rooms. She always told him, "You will be the kindest King someday."

Whenever he made a mistake, she would be there with a stern lecture and a comforting shoulder to cry on. She never talked down to him like most parents would. It made him realize he wasn't as childish as he thought. When push comes to shove, Ezekial learned how to shove back.

His heart began to race with a hidden memory.

The day his mother died.

Snow coated the palace garden, giving his mother's pale complexion a small glow. His mother's face suddenly turned grim.

"Zeke, why don't you find my ring in the gazebo. I left it there the day before it snowed. Perhaps you can find it for me?"

It was an innocent request Ezekial immediately agreed to. He hurridly went about his task forgetting all about his mother's strange facial expression.

Moments later, his hands frozen and empty, he found his father standing above his mother's lifeless body.

Her eyes stared right at Ezekial, glassy and white with fear.

His father picked Ezekial up and whispered to him, "She grew ill from the cold of the snow. I'm sure you know what happened next? Do not worry. She loved you dearly."

His response was robotic, calculated, and scripted.

Why  had he prepared this speech for him to hear?

"You know the truth," the same voice echoed back, reading his thoughts like an open book.

"And what is that truth?" Ezekial asked aloud, not caring if the guards heard. He was desperate to get answers.

"The King is a liar and a murderer," the sword, of all things, replied.

"I should be surprised a sword can speak." Ezekial gasped. "But this world has much stranger things."

"I am not a sword. And, if your father had any remorse for his actions, he would have told you so."

"If you are not a sword, what are you?" Ezekial mocked, "A frog?"

"A human."

Silence.

"A human?" Ezekial echoed, "H-How can that-?"

"The King trapped me in here for the good of the people." The feminine voice resonated through the room. Like a crystal, the sound reflected light in Ezekial's heart.

"Then, my father... my suspicions were true?"

"He may have "saved the world" but he kidnapped me to do that," the voice wavered.

In a moment, a switch was flipped in Ezekial.

"Then, my mother..." Rage consumed his heart. "She was murdered."

"I can give you the power to get revenge. Your father-"

"The King," Ezekial barked out, interrupting.

"The King-" The sword continued, "is corrupt. He did more wrong than just take my life away. If you help me get revenge, I'll help you avenge your mother."

Ezekial reached for the handle of the sword, admiring the emerald in the center. His shadow did nothing to stop the gorgeous gem from glistening. Verdant smoke emanated from the handle, encircling Ezekial.

Just as he was about to grab the artifact, he hesitated.

"I am not foolish." He barked, "When I take this sword, the ghouls will come back to haunt the Earth again, won't it?"

"That is not my fault!" The sword cried, hurt by the accusation. "Your father was the one who created the ghouls in the first place! He was the one who put me in this sword! He killed everything and everyone I held dear just to "sacrifice" me for the Kingdom! Don't you think he deserves to be punished?!"

"Yes! But why should we punish innocent people in the process!?" Ezekial grimaced, "The ghouls cannot be stopped."

"The answer is simple. We find your father, catch him, and switch my life for his. He will be able to pay for his mistakes the way he should have, I will be able to live my life, and you will get revenge for your mother. He is in this castle, isn't he? The ghouls will barely have a chance to attack in that amount of time."

Ezekial took the time to think carefully.

Ultimately, he grabbed the handle and whispered gently, "I am sorry Jenette... please forgive me."

The mist exploded with green light, entrapping Ezekial. The Sword of Corruption accepted its new owner wholeheartedly. All the while, the girl inside the sword smiled wide at her upcoming release. She chuckled violently before shouting.

"Time for this revenge party to begin!"

---

Next up: Chapter 2: A Sister