“Keep it dim. Don’t let it run wild. It cannot be a forest fire, nay, it must be a forge you control. Let it rise and smolder at your command.” Thram instructed Godwin.

He watched the boy sweat buckets even in the chilly night. He supposed having him sit so close to the campfire would also be a cause. He hoped the presence of something he could look at and understand would help him with controlling his newfound power.

As his master had explained, a fire would burn in the middle of his chest. It would begin as sparks, become embers, then finally rage around in his body. Reaching out to even his limbs and fingers.

Usually, each knight had something unique to them that defined what knight they were. Thram felt cold when his transcended power took over. It was the freezing embrace of a blade. A silver gleam before death found its way to you.

He could feel the cold iron of every weapon around him, not mentioning his own blade of renown. It was a blunted sword, purposeless for a long time, but he needed not its edge. For he was the sharpened sword itself.

The blade that never dulled. The bringer of cold and suffering.

Yet, the boy’s symbol was unlike the rest. The elements were never part of a transcendence emblem. They never meant one thing, easily defining many things in any specific way. Them being far too broad and difficult to pinpoint made it impossible for anyone to witness them in their power.

What made him even more confused was how it had little to do with the emergence of the external parts of his power. The green that colored the forest could not be used to define flames. It made more sense for it to be things like the sturdiness of a tree, or the sharpness of a leaf.

Godwin grunted. His eyes brightened, then lost their luster a moment after.

Thram closed his eyes. Seeing him struggle to control his power brough memories he wished to never recall.

It kept reminding him of his greatest failure. The only time his blade was utterly useless in protecting the one person he had willingly and with his whole heart swore to protect.

He gulped as flashes of those terrible days passed.

How simple it was to trick him, and how dastardly those around him were. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he returned to camp that day after being sent off with a group of his most loyal soldiers to take out a bandit camp not too far away, only to find his second in command stabbing his retainer with a smile.

Who knew that he was an agent of the kingdom’s most hated enemy. Or that he was the tip of thirteen successful assassinations from fifty-seven attempts through the lands, taking with them a duke too.

Thram lost his mind that day. Killed an entire army and continued to slaughter his way through the kingdom’s enemies. All he knew was death for three months as the neighboring kingdom kept sending armies for him to destroy.

Once he returned to his retainer's father, covered in blood, he was sent away as an outcast. They stamped him with dishonor from a red hot branding iron directly on his chest. It was a shame he never dared to speak of, and still wouldn’t now.

Instead, he was hired by the Count of Teralis. Given scraps to guard some bastard son until death finds either of them. For a long time, he hoped to be ambushed by enemies and let them run him through, but the thought of dying and with him his only other retainer sent shivers down his back.

An unknown presence let itself known. He turned towards the forest with a grim expression. Someone powerful enough for him to question his own safety had appeared nearly half a kilometer away.

Thram could feel the shadows freeze, then dance around in the forest with a wild vigor. The moonlight faded away as the enemy waited for him alone. The guards whispered about how dark the night was today, how unusual that was. If only they knew.

This was a challenge, a warning he understood. A power matching his own. A pinnacle warrior unrivaled in his world.

In their wake, there would be destruction. The safety of everyone else was impossible to secure. He had no choice but to meet this enemy head on for the boy to survive.

He stood up without warning. He grabbed his sword, then threw off the extra metal on his body. In front of a strength that was as powerful as him, these things were nothing more than burdens that slowed his reaction time.

The Father above knew he needed it today.

“I’ll be back.” he said without explanation. He heard their questions as he walked away, but he ignored them. There was no time for this.

It took him ten minutes to reach the clearing his foe had chosen. He surveyed the environment.

They had already cleared everything out by whoever it was. Boulders had been moved, and a tree cut down to a stump. It was the only obstacle in the area. The ground was uneven with tall grasses in a part and hard dirt in others. He could see thick tree roots snaking around. He made a note of each.

Once done, he looked at his enemy.

The person, male by his size and body shape, wore all black. His sword was already out.

“Took you long enough.” the man said.

“The Black Blade.” Thram called out as he walked closer. He recognized the power but wasn’t sure if it was the right person.