The rain poured down relentlessly, soaking Charles and Nora's tunics as they trudged through the muddy terrain of the Storm Clan.
Charles carried Nora piggyback, her arms around his neck and his left hand firmly holding her legs to keep her from slipping.
In his right hand, the black sword emitted a golden glow that lit the path, though its radiance was starting to draw more attention than Charles wanted.
They'd climbed the mountain, crossed the forest, and finally reached the clan's village, but now they were nearing an area Charles recognized all too well: the spot where he'd had an unpleasant run-in with the clan's guards a few hours ago.
The last thing he needed was another confrontation, especially with Nora on his back and a talking sword that wouldn't stop butting into his thoughts.
Charles frowned, eyeing the sword's golden light.
'Tone down that glow,' he thought, addressing the sword in his mind. 'I don't want the whole clan staring at us.'
