I don't know how long I stood there, staring.

Dread pooled into my lower stomach like water slowly rising to drown me in that choking fear of a repeat. It felt like I was suffocating in a blanket of anxiety slowly eating away at me until I was nothing but a creature of worry like I had been before.

It couldn't have been me this time, could it? I hadn't even been over there for ages...It had to be something else... I might as well check it out, right?

I exhaled slowly, trying to calm myself down and force away a panic attack of sorts, brushing away the crystalizing ice off of my knit sweater that had begun to cling to the wool.

Deep breaths...

Finally, after several minutes of trying to gain control and trying not to freeze Rivendale back over, I started forward. The pathway up to the hill behind the palace was steep, and slightly unfinished. I stumbled up it, nearly tripping several times on protruding rocks and uneven potholes.

Slipping and sliding I made my way to the flat surface of the hill, scattered around were the large spires of ice towering over myself... they seemed to form rings around one another, all the points almost gesturing towards the center where the largest spire stuck straight up out of the ground.

I hugged myself, the chill stinging my arms through the holes of the sweater. I cautiously moved forwards between the large, pointed ice pillars, their surfaces reflective like mirrors and showing my image throughout the maze of spikes.

I felt eyes watching me, which were really just my own bouncing off of the sheer surfaces of the crystal-clear ice, but it still felt like each pair were burning into my skin like hot metal.

I slowly made my way towards the center, stepping over shards of ice poking out of the ground to rip up the grass and dirt.

My breath instantly caught in my throat at the sight of what resided in the center.

The center spire was huge, much bigger than I had originally thought, spanning nearly eight feet in diameter. I craned my neck to look at the top, hardly visible from right beside it. But my eyes landed on what was inside of it.

Nestled into the center of the spire was a sword.

Its form was blurred from the layers of ice shielding it from the open, details masked but still rather prominent...

"What on earth..." I murmured to myself, pressing one of my hands against the ice, searing cold but pleasant against my palm. I leaned closer towards the glass-like material, catching my own reflection again and a pulse of Xornoth's crystal dangling from my neck.

I could have just left then and there. It was none of my business. Nope, none at all. I did not need a mysterious flashy sword that somehow encased itself in ice that just randomly appeared in my empire. I had learned too many times that meddling in situations like this only dug me deeper into my grave of troubles. But... 

I couldn't help it. Curiosity always got the best of me. It always won. 

I pressed my fingers against the ice, feeling it melt beneath my fingertips until I hand reached my arm up to my shoulder through the ice, my chest now pressed against the spire.

 I stretched my fingertips, straining my arm to try and reach the hilt of the sword that was barely inches away.

Finally, with one small lunge that nearly tugged my arm from its socket, my hand wrapped around the hilt.

As soon as my hand made contact with the weapon, the spire of ice began to crack. With a startled yelp of realization, I covered my head with my free arm as chunks of ice began to shed themselves from the spire's exterior.

In moments the spike of ice had crumpled to a mass of shards on the ground, leaving me standing there with the mysterious sword in my hands.

Now I was able to look at it closer. It was long, much longer than my own sword, the blade around four feet long and much broader. Engraved in the metal were strange blue marking, glowing slightly with a strange ominous sense. The hilt was ridiculously ornate, golden and detailed with miniature crystals streaking the metal and embedding the grip. I twisted it in my hand. It was heavy, heavier than I was used to, but not too much so that I thought I'd have a hard time wielding it.

"Where did you come from...?" I murmured to myself, frowning as I examined the blade from a different angle.

It was strange. The sword had a... familiarity to it that I couldn't quite put my finger on...like I had seen in somewhere before. I did know, however, that this was no ordinary blade. There was something special about it, and there was a reason I had it.

I had to figure out more about it.

The first thing that came to mind, was the Ancient Elven Library. It had only failed me...two out of the three times I had needed it— but it was still worth a shot.

Believe me, I tried really hard to convince myself out of it. To just leave the sword there for whoever else came across the spot... but I couldn't.

A short trip the library couldn't hurt, right?

Before I could think about it too much longer, I tugged my sweater off, tucking it underneath my arm to free my wings.

With my head swarming with questions I hoped the library would answer, I took off in the direction of the mountains.

I landed with a small stumble at the tower of the library that stuck out of the earth, the rest buried beneath centuries of rubble.

My arm ached from carrying the sword with me, and I slowly let it down to the ground to give them a break. I tugged my sweater back over my head, picking the mysterious weapon from the ground before approaching the door, pushing it open.

It had only been a few months since I had been in here, searching for a solution with Gem and Jimmy, but the floor had already collected a thin layer of dust. I recited the saying as I walked, the runes glowing faintly before the spiral staircase opened and I hurried down into the main library.

I sped down one of the aisles, sword in hand, skipping over the sections I knew would be of no use. I wondered whether or not it would be in the prophecy section— the weapon seemed pretty prophecy-y to me at least.

I scanned the shelves, searching for something, anything that could pertain to a giant freaky sword that magically spawned in my backyard.

But one, in particular, caught my eyes...the title stitched across the leather binding wasn't in elvish, like nearly every other book, but in the human language. I frowned, pulling it from the shelf. It was small and could probably easily fit into my pocket. The leather was dyed red, peeling from the canvas, and worn in several places.

"Such an original name..." I muttered to myself as I read the title. 'The Book of Prophecies'. I rested the sword against the bookshelf, flipping the small volume open, scanning the pages. The text was faded but readable, filled with a few of the prophecies I recognized... and a few I didn't.

I slid to the floor, my back to the bookshelf as I began to read, my thumb sliding along the margins to keep my spot.

In the mountains where the elven lands lie,

The power of gods among mortals disguised.

Wars started by greed, and said power sought,

Lest the Ice King lose and lay to rot.

Considering I had been deemed the Ice King several times, this prophecy did anything but make me comfortable.

The son of Fate, the daughter of light,

Not meant, but made, to forever fight.

Doomed to lose, doomed to die.

But always raised, and they'll always try,

To win, to shed the blood from bone.

The killer of gods, over years had been hone.

A traitor they are, but they were betrayed first,

Filled with greed and sorrow, a new darkness they'll birth.

Because they're not meant to exist nor to live.

Never again, trust they will give.

A tear in the plan, a mistake made on high.

Let way for the two, to purge and to lie.

Hidden among those whose paths were set straight,

And the heroes, the champions, saw their mistake too late.

Again, unsettling. I read this one several times over, trying to make sense of the lines. Nothing clicked though. I could only hope that either this had already come true...or it wouldn't take place in my lifetime.

The murmured secret, shadows swept,

And in the unlikely heart, these words were kept.

Stolen from the place they had called their home,

Brought to foreign lands, though they left now grown.

Bitter vines of betrayal swarmed,

Their vision twisted and decisions harmed.

Taken, beaten, broken, and bent,

The champion of Exor shall rise again.

My heart nearly stopped. That one, could not be true. My hand shot underneath my sweater, wrapping around the crystal that pulsed with warmth in my palm. It must have been about when Erin had nearly brought him back... Maybe I should protect him— it better.

I moved on to take my mind off of it.

The brothers feared, the mortals, the gods,

Shall dance with death and defy all odds.

For with the loved one's final breath

A willing soul, a secret kept.

A voice of darkness shall guide the way,

To save the damned from eternal decay.

The lost, the hopeless, the broken are bound,

To bring to light the lies unfound.

The traitor to darkness, shadows cling,

But the betrayer still veiled, chaos they'll bring.

For even with peace, war will come.

Friends will clash, and blood will run.

For the two are like, the blade of a sword,

With deadly sharpness, but with a wielder of love

I snapped the book shut. I didn't want to look at these anymore or feel the fear wrapping my chest in its icy hands to squeeze my lungs of their breath. They were just ridiculous poems made by crazy people centuries ago...

Without giving the book another thought or giving myself another chance to panic about what the prophecies foretold, I stuffed the book into my pocket and continued on.

It seemed like this Exor-damned library had every single section but one about magical weapons.

I continued searching for anything that may give me a hint, or a clue as to what this sword was, or where it came from. Nothing. Of course.

"So much for having all the knowledge in the known world..." I muttered angrily to myself, and in a short spurt of rage I launched the book I was holding down the hall towards one of the only walls not masked by a bookshelf.

I froze when a sharp grinding sound of rock getting scraped against rock echoed throughout the hall instead of the dull thud of the cover's binding against stone that I had expected. I stood still, my arm still outstretched, unsure whether or not to trust my own ears.

I went to investigate as soon as I had regained control of my limbs. All I really felt was confusion as I approached the wall, shifting the desk that was set right against it away with a bit of a struggle. The book was now on the floor, but on the wall where it had hit, one of the stone bricks had been pushed into the wall, a good few inches. It definitely hadn't been there before.

"Why do I always find these things in the weirdest...luckiest ways..." I muttered to myself, brushing the wall before attempting to press other bricks into the wall.

A few minutes later I came to the conclusion that only a few of them would shift, almost like buttons so that when I pressed them, they'd sink into the wall a few inches like the first. So, I dragged my fingertips along the wall, searching for the ones that would move.

After several more minutes of searching each brick, it seemed I had pressed the last one, because the entire wall began to shift, the same grinding sound echoing throughout the halls of the library as it moved back.

The moving wall came to a sudden halt a few feet in, leaving large scrapes along the stone floor and walls that were pale and chalky. I covered my mouth with the crook of my arm, masking my face as I broke into a coughing fit from all the dust raising.

I shuffled my wings, trying to bat away all the residue now floating in the air from years of neglect. I blinked, peering through the haze of dust slowly settling back to the ground and within the grooves of the stone. I stepped back, grabbing the strange blade from where I had propped it against the wall, before advancing down the small passage the moving wall had made.

There was nothing here. Just a few extra square feet of space. I was about to kick the wall, and probably break a few toes, out of frustration when I noticed that the wall had not only moved but changed. It was only the slightest, but it was definitely different.

Now, in the center of the stone wall, was a small slit edged with the thinnest, dullest gold. It looked incredibly deliberate to say the least. I ran my fingers along the edges, picking up the same chalky dust along my hand as it slid over the rough and crumbling patches of stone... It couldn't be. That would be too convenient for me...

I lifted the sword up, slowly sliding it into the slit. And it fit. Perfectly, I might add. It fit perfectly. "Suppose I'm lucky for once in my life..." I muttered to myself, pushing the sword easily into the slit to the hilt.

I waited a few moments. Nothing happened. "Well shit." I muttered to myself, glancing around for anything else that may be the key to this door. If it even was a door. Maybe the ancient elves just had a weird sense of decor and though an ominous hole in the middle of the wall would look cool.  "Never mind...not lucky." I grumbled, going to pull the sword out. Instead, though, I realized the area around the slit was loose. I frowned the slightest, before doing the first thing that came to mind and twisted the hilt, causing the small circular section to begin rotating with the sword.

Instantly the wall began to move again, the motion of it moving back automatically throwing the sword from the slit, freeing it.

I hardly knew what I was doing, but I followed as the wall slowly retreated, waiting to see what was on the other side...

Slowly, after several minutes of watching the wall move painstakingly backwards and enduring the ear-deafening sound of the rock grinding and scraping against the stone floor, it came to another halt. But this time, the bricks began to shift into one another, opening into another room I would have never thought to be there otherwise.

The only thing in this room, so covered in dust and filth there was no doubt that it hadn't been touched in over a millennium, was a podium. And on that podium was a book.

"Not again." I murmured to myself, feeling a jolt in my chest at the sight and at remembering what I had found last time I had discovered a mysterious book within the holds of an unknown location. But, with a small sigh I rested the sword against the wall, taking a cautious step forward and flipping the book open to read.

Long ago in the ancient mountain city of Kondarim lived the ancient dwarven race. Though known for their many amazing feats and marvels, their most impressive was the ability to produce magically infused weapons, from hammers that summoned lightning, to swords that could tear holes in reality, rumored to send people to different worlds.

Many races came and went to the city, paying for a medley of amazing weapons and tools to be made. While many were made only one was deemed too dangerous. A sword that would separate the soul from the body it killed, sending them to whatever afterlife the wielder decided. Scared of the countless souls that could be trapped in eternal hells, the Dwarves set out to destroy the new weapon they had been asked to make by a deity unknown to them, but the night before its destruction it was stolen never to be seen again.

Many people have set out to find the blade, in hopes of sending dying loved ones to a happy afterlife, or to punish their enemies with eternal damnation. While no one is sure if the sword exists the name still causes unnerve to the people who know its tales...

The Rune Blade

The first thing I felt was horror. I knew of this sword, I'm not sure how I hadn't connected the dots before. I had heard many legends over the years of this ancient weapon, all terrifying in their own ways.

I didn't want this. I didn't want a weapon the devil had practically spat out of hell itself. One, if those who knew of the tales had any knowledge that it was in my possession, my own life would be in even more danger than it already was. They'd be after me. And two, the thought of using the sword was horrible. Not even I would wish that fate on those who had wronged me. Then again, I couldn't risk this weapon falling into the wrong hands...like my brother's. Or Exor's.

So, I guess it was coming with me, where I could hide it away. We all know how good I am at hiding things...heh.

I picked the small book up, feeling the surge of frost before it spread out along the cover of the book, seeping into the worn cracks between the leather and the canvas underneath until it was frozen solid. Without a second thought, I dropped it, letting it shatter against the stone floor like glass.

It was very late when I arrived back in Rivendale, in front of the palace.

I had had the ingenious thought to freeze the sword on my back between my wing joints so that I wouldn't have to carry it, which was pretty handy.

I pushed open the front door, closing it behind me only to be met with...Erin. I had forgotten that I had left her—

She had been sitting on the staircase curving from the entrance hall up to the second floor, and she had shot to her feet as soon as I had entered. Her expression changed several times in the few seconds I stood there, her eyes wide in surprise and something like but not exactly worry, to shock, to anger. "SCOTT it is ONE in the EFFING MORNING where HELL were you!?" she half-shrieked, and I was startled to see the panic mixed with the fury in her expression.

"I— well— I went for a walk?" I answered, though it sounded more like a question.

"FOR EIGHT HOURS??"

"....yes...?"

"DON'T YOU DARE LIE TO ME SCOTT GILDED MAJOR—"

"Why are you so freaked out-? I'm here now—" I said with a frown. Had she really been sitting on the stairs just waiting for me?

"AND? What in the name of Exor was I supposed to think?? You disappear after strutting down memory lane looking at stupid family photos, and I go outside to see A FLIPPING PENTAGRAM OF NEW ICE SPIRES AND SHIT AND ABSOLUTELY NO SIGN OF YOU!" I saw the red power surge behind her eyes, peeling from her skin to curl in coils around her wrist before dipping back into her palms. "WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO IF YOU WERE ACTUALLY GONE, HUH? If I had even tried to find you NO ONE would believe me and think I killed you myself or something, WHICH I AM NOW HIGHLY CONSIDERING DOING!"

And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed up the stairs to her room, radiating anger.

I stood there, frozen for a few moments, unsure what to think of what had just taken place.

It wasn't till later, when I had both successfully hidden the sword and found a better home for Xornoth's crystal, lying in bed, when I had realized that I had scared her.

***

Andddddd chapter 76 :)

Sorry it took a while for it to come out (and that it's a bit shorter), I lost motivation like halfway through ;-;

But uh, yeah. Here you have it, the second to last Scott POV of Cold Fury! I have a Sausage POV coming next so stay tuned!

Anyways, comments and votes are very much appreciated!

Also I'd like to add that all the prophecies up there are mine, and that I wrote them myself :D