At his side, the sword begins to hum, the wings at the hilt quivering, starting to unfurl. The squire holds the hilt tightly and draws. As the blade rises, so does a note from deep within the young man. It bursts upwards, pushing out his chest, punching through his throat, springing wide his jaw, to soar, malevolent, into the air. Silvered wings stretch to either side of the sword’s hilt, revealing a closed eye that twitches madly. The sword’s sound shakes the very essence of those unfortunate enough to hear it, pure, otherworldly, too much for a mortal to control. Breath begins to burn.
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