"The weapon chooses the heir?" Aurelia repeated slowly, her brows drawing together in visible confusion. She leaned slightly on her right leg, her hands clasped behind her back studying Therion as though she might pull the truth out of him by sheer curiosity alone.
The wind stirred the edges of her dark cloak, but she paid it no mind. Her entire attention was fixed on the conversation unfolding beside her.
"How does a weapon choose a master? Do those weapons possess some kind of mind of their own? How exactly does that work? Or does the vault somehow decide who is worthy?"
Therion hesitated and he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable being the one responsible for explaining something so ancient and mysterious.
He had served the royal family for years, yet even he did not fully understand the mysteries surrounding the royal vault. And explaining something he barely comprehended to the inquisitive queen before him was not an easy task.
