There was no voice in my head. No chiding from the small thread of quicksilver it contained, nor from the gods who had made it, nor the warrior who possessed it. The faintest smell of juniper tickled the back of my nose. I heard distant, playful laughter on a breeze that wasn’t there. And then, simultaneously, the god sword in my left hand formed a pillar of blazing white… and the god sword in my right erupted with a wall of shadow and smoke.
