As it turned out, getting stronger was a lot harder than simply wanting it. I tried some simple bodyweight exercises that I'd seen my mother do but I could barely manage four pushups before my arms gave out.

With the city guard alerted to her disappearance it was only a matter of time before the truth was uncovered, I didn't want to worry my mother unnecessarily so I was going to stay home and increase my fitness level. Doing nothing but reading for years left me weaker than everyone I knew. I remembered how Alessia and I would often climb trees as kids and I was now in serious doubt as to whether I could pull off the same feat now.

As I lay in a sweaty heap on the living room floor, I heard what sounded like a man singing. It was an average pitched voice, it sang no words, just raising and lowering its tone and pitch. It had a sense of rhythm to it instantly bringing to mind the types of songs that drunkards sang together at the tavern.

It sounded close like it was coming from just a room over, mother's room. As I sat up properly to listen to the tonal singer I felt something drop onto my lap. I looked down to see droplet after droplet falling from my head to my patchwork dress, the liquid slowly spreading out as it soaked into the fabric. I touched my face and felt the tears streaming from my eyes but I couldn't understand why I was crying.

Just as abruptly as the song began it cut off. It didn't taper off like someone walking away or come to a natural end like a climax, it just stopped like the singer was punched in the throat. I scrambled to my feet and rushed into my mother's room but no one was there, though I quickly realised that it was good that no one was there. I'm not sure what I would have done if there was a strange singing man just standing there. It must've been someone from behind our house. I could have sworn it sounded like it was inside with me but my mothers' room had no good places where someone could hide, I knew that from experience.

I decided to check everywhere just in case but as I thought, there was no one but me here. As I turned to leave Father's flamberge caught my eye, with all of the emotions of yesterday I'd forgotten to pay my respects this morning. I leaned in to kiss the blade as I had done countless times before but stopped short as I heard something.

The singing had started up again but when I moved back to try to pinpoint the sound I noticed where it was coming from. Carefully I leaned into my father's sword and placed my ear so close to the blade that a careless slip might remove it from my head. There! The music! It came from the sword! There was no doubt about it.

Without thinking, using the same instinct that a fish called upon to swim I uttered "I hear you." suddenly the singing shanty burst forth from the sword at an overwhelming volume, the deafening song was loud enough to wake the dead. Literally, it seemed when large, yellow orbs of light were conjured in my vision. I panicked at first looking around for a place to escape but they were everywhere! Looking around like that was starting to make me sick, something about the way the orbs moved in my vision.

I closed my eyes to avoid throwing up but I could still see the orbs with my eyes shut. It took a moment for me to start understanding that the orbs weren't moving to where I looked, it was like the giant yellow balls were burned into my vision. To avoid the sickness I kept my eyes closed. Something was welling up inside me, a paradoxical urge to sing. I was nauseous, scared and alone but I felt the urge to sing along becoming unbearable like I was trying to vomit my throat muscles.

In the same way that I told the sword that I could hear it, I let my instinct carry me. I erupted into a song I'd never heard before yet something about it felt right like I was reading lyrics straight from my soul. No intelligible words came out instead I sang in the same tonal way.

I didn't join in with the shanty, instead, I sang a complementary set of notes to a unique tune. What should have been an awful cacophony of two mismatched songs became a beautiful duet as the sword shifted its song to match mine, like a beautiful woman came crashing into the tavern and the patrons shifted from stories of fights to tales of adventure.

As I sang the orbs started to come into focus more and more until each was a brilliant perfect sun. Father's Flamberge materialised in my vision. It looked far smaller than I knew it, or maybe it's just far away and the orbs are huge. Without warning each of the orbs produced two yellow tentacles and started lashing at my father's sword with incredible speed and power.

The sword deftly weaved between the tentacles along the floor, in the air, it was untouchable; the serpentine blade appeared to be a snake slithering, bending and twisting as if the metal was alive. I needed to know if this was really happening. I opened my eyes for just a brief moment to avoid nausea but nothing had changed. As far as I could tell I was singing in an empty room with an inanimate sword.

As long as my eyes were closed the movement of the orbs didn't make me sick so I continued to sing my wordless duet. Slowly it appeared that the sword was growing or each of the orbs was shrinking but as the sword grew, more and more orbs appeared and began lashing out with more ferocity. I found myself mentally rooting for the invincible sword until a new colour appeared.

This new orb was a deep red, not like a fresh wound but like a glob of thick coagulated blood. It too joined the fray with swiping tentacles but unlike the others which flailed around almost randomly the red one actively cut off escape routes and predicted the sword's movements.

Each strike was more powerful than anything I'd seen the yellows produce, it was so fast that It was just a blur of precise and measured strikes. Each attack that missed drew closer and closer to its intended target. I watched with increasing concern still rooting for my father's sword.

Finally, it struck true the red one landed a heavy lash and for the first time, our duet faltered, as if the tavern goer had been punched, our songs desynced. I was feeling out of breath, I don't know for how long my song had gone on but I couldn't find the time to breathe. Not wanting the scene to end I relaxed more, wholly immersing myself in the music and soon my song had rejoined the shanty.

The red orb now had a firm grip on my Father's sword, no matter how it undulated, whipped, or struggled the red orb was overpowering. The tentacle's grip increased as cracks began to form along the sword's length, threatening to shatter it completely.

Eventually, the serpentine sword stopped fighting back and the red orb began wielding it to cut down the yellows indiscriminately. Without fighting back the flamberge cut through more than thirty yellows. The thirty-first was about to be cut down when unexpectedly the sword refused to cut, the blade bending and wiggling so that each quick strike was a near miss, even managing to break free of the red one's grasp.

I found myself elated at the escape. I wanted to keep watching, to keep singing but I felt light-headed. I pushed myself to keep the song going for just a little longer but I had gone too far and I abruptly lost consciousness.