“A weapon from one of the dead houses. Older than the halls of this kingdom and theirs combined, and he expects us to believe that the traitor gods gave it to him.” “It’s just a sword,” Khydan growled. Crave huffed down his nose, looking at Khydan, a sour smile twisting his mouth. “That sword could end worlds in the right hands. If it’s what I think it is, it is one of the forgotten blades of our ancestors… and you do not have the right to wield it.”
