TITLE: spirit called
GENRE: urban fantasy
The MC has a vision of his preternatural sword from its past. The language is archaic. The antag is a 'daemon' and the Master has the rapier in his hand.
Ah, but.an innocent had been killed by the rapier, in a far away land, in a distant time. I saw the picture of a face, a female, her grief worn on her like a ragged veil, terrible and marring and her hand, her own hand, taking a long dagger, holding it thus, jerking it to her and piercing her own beating heart. Then, the angry Daemon, cursing, maddened with frustration, reaching for her, too late, fury crossing its face. A throat-lacerating scream, a pain too great to hold in a human body, a Master's thunderous, all encompassing rage and horror. A growl, the whistle of displaced air from the rapier, a brilliant light, a booming roar great enough to burst the eardrums of all surrounding creatures. The Daemon destroyed by the bonded Master.
Then, Lo! In the great silence that ensued, a sound so remote but distinct, a slow drop of tears. Then a resolute sigh, the ring of steel, and a soft groan.
And the unmistakable sound of steel sheathed, not in leather or metal but passing through clothing, passing through skin, passing through ribs. A lingering, endless sigh and a Master's last words to his Beloved, "I will be with you now, my Love."
I jerked up from this nightmare, this dream that was not an illusion.
Because now I believed, and I knew I had a part to play in this nightmare.
But whether as hero, sidekick, or goat, I could not guess.