The sword was a thing of beauty. Undeniably so. Aside from the impressive wolf’s head pommel, the hilt was also decorated in trailing vines that wound around the hilt and guard, which I’d managed to fire myself without any help from Lorreth. The blade itself bore a rippled wave that ran from end to end thanks to the countless times it had been folded. I had spent the past hour painstakingly engraving words down the very center of the blade. Words that would hopefully bode well for both the weapon and the warrior who bore it, and badly for those who found themselves at its sharp end. By
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