The demonic sword huffed as it floated lazily in the cabin air, circling Luther like a bored cat eyeing its disinterested owner. Its crimson form flickered faintly on the blade's guard, pulsing in rhythm with its irritated tone.

"Are you done staring at that shiny rock," it drawled, "or should I start counting how many times you blink?"

Luther didn't even look up. Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he studied the black crystal on the table, its surface gleaming faintly under the oil lamp's golden light. It pulsed like a slow heartbeat, soft, steady, and wrong.

"Doesn't it look strange to you?" he muttered.

The sword gave an exaggerated groan. "Strange? You mean aside from the fact that it's black, hums like a cursed lullaby, and probably ate half a town's souls for dessert? No, looks perfectly normal to me. A fine centerpiece for any psychopath's dining room."

Luther rubbed his temples, muttering under his breath, I should've thrown you into the ocean when I had the chance.

"What was that?" the sword asked sweetly.

"Nothing helpful, so you wouldn't understand."

"Ha! Funny... coming from someone whose only coping mechanism is sighing dramatically."

Before Luther could retort, the door creaked open. Alina stepped inside with her usual calm grace, but her sharp eyes instantly darted from Luther to the floating weapon. Behind her trailed Liliana and Aithur, both looking like they'd been dragged into another one of Luther's late-night experiments.

"You've been in here all day," Alina said softly. "The captain sent word, another ship arrives tomorrow. Those who wish to leave for the Enferi Forest depart at dawn."

Luther hummed, finally standing. He grabbed the crystal and pocketed it before walking to the couch. The sword floated after him like an annoying shadow.

Liliana and Aithur took seats side by side, while Alina lingered near the window. The air grew still.

Then, as always, the sword broke the silence.

"Alright, what's with the funeral faces? You all look like you saw a ghost. Oh wait... I am the ghost. The talking sword. Boo."

Liliana blinked. "It… speaks?"

"It has a name, thank you very much," the sword snapped, hovering above the table. "You mortals think divine relics are the only old toys lying around? There were dozens of us before your precious gods started their temper tantrums."

Aithur smirked. "So the blade's got opinions too."

The sword twirled sharply, pointing at him. "You! Don't call me 'blade' like I'm some kitchen knife. I've reduced empires to dust, you overgrown squirrel!"

Aithur ducked just as it swooped by his ear, laughing. "A talking sword with anger issues... now that's a first."

The sword puffed up proudly. "I'm a weapon of destruction, not decoration!"

Alina chuckled under her breath. "No wonder sometimes it sounded like the Saint was arguing with himself."

Luther froze. "…You noticed?"

Liliana grinned. "Hard not to. You talk to thin air like it owes you rent."

Luther groaned and rubbed his face. "I didn't call you here for this circus."

"Then what for, Saint?" Aithur teased.

"Yeah," Liliana said, crossing her legs, "the sun's nearly down. What's going on?"

Luther took a deep breath and gestured for Alina to sit beside him. "This might take a while."

When she did, he laid his hand on the table. Magic rippled from his palm, a faint golden light that shimmered and revealed the black crystal, humming softly.

Aithur leaned forward, brow furrowed. "Never seen one of those. Not even in the archives."

"That's the one you took from those thugs," Alina murmured.

Luther nodded. "Yeah. Been keeping it since."

The sword muttered, "Because hoarding cursed junk is clearly a healthy hobby."

Luther ignored it. "I think it's connected to the Kraken."

Aithur blinked. "The Kraken?"

Liliana frowned. "Impossible. That thing's pure instinct. It kills everything it sees."

"Exactly," Luther replied. "Then why didn't it kill us? It ran... like something scared it."

The sword snickered. "Oh, right. It ran because you started lecturing it. You even wagged a finger."

Aithur burst out laughing; Alina covered her smile with a hand. Luther's glare could've burned through steel.

"Laugh while you can. I think it wasn't instinct, it was reacting. Maybe to this." He nodded toward the crystal. "It wasn't fighting us–it was obeying someone."

That silenced them.

Alina frowned. "You think it's being controlled?"

Luther's tone dropped lower. "I don't think. I know."

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, faint golden rings shimmered in his pupils. "I felt it... something ancient. I've seen it before. The people we fought in Noia… their thoughts weren't their own. The more this crystal glowed, the more they lost themselves."

Liliana leaned forward. "You mean—someone's pulling their strings?"

"Not someone," Luther corrected, "something."

The sword let out a low hum. "Well, congratulations, you've officially met my kind of trouble."

Ignoring it, Luther placed the crystal on the table. "Watch."

He pressed his palm flat to the surface. Golden light flared again–circles of runes spreading outward before exploding upward in a burst of magic.

Everyone shielded their eyes.

When the glow faded, gasps filled the room.

Because now, beside the small crystal, lay another one–massive, jagged, black as midnight, red veins crawling beneath its surface like living roots.

The sword's voice lowered. "Oh. That's not good."

"Found it inside the Kraken's body," Luther said, voice even.

Liliana's jaw dropped. "You what?"

Aithur stared, horrified. "You mean it ate that thing?"

"No." Luther's voice was calm, but his golden eyes glimmered cold. "It was feeding it."

Silence.

"Feeding… it?" Alina whispered.

"Yeah." Luther crossed his arms. "The Kraken wasn't hunting... it was being controlled. This thing channels emotion. Fear, rage, hunger. It feeds on it. It devoured the town because it was told to."

Liliana swallowed hard. "Told… by who?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," he said quietly. "Whatever's behind this isn't human."

The sword flicked its eye open wider, tone almost wary. "You're saying someone's using heartstones again."

"Heartstones?" Aithur echoed.

"Yeah," the sword said. "Fragments of dead gods. Don't look at me like that. Some idiot must've dug one up and thought, 'Hey, let's feed it souls and see what happens!' Typical mortal curiosity."

Luther frowned. Fragments of gods? Then that means…

He shook the thought away. "I've tried destroying it. It won't crack. Won't melt."

The sword tilted. "That's because it's alive."

Luther froze. "What?"

"I said," the sword repeated slowly, "it's alive. That's not a rock, Saint Boy. That's a heart. A piece of something that once lived, and probably still wants to."

The crystal pulsed again, faster, like it could hear the conversation.

Liliana's hand drifted to her blade. "Then what's it doing here?"

"Growing," Luther said grimly. "Someone's been feeding it for years."

The sword groaned. "Fantastic. You've adopted a sentient apocalypse."

Luther ignored the jab, eyes fixed on the pulsing crystal. Inside, faint whispers echoed, soft, seductive, familiar. He flinched.

Desire. Regret. Fear. All the same voice.

He pushed it away, forcing his expression neutral.

Alina noticed. "You heard something, didn't you?"

Luther's jaw tightened. "It's… nothing."

Lie, his mind whispered. He could feel the thing tugging at him, like invisible threads coiling around his soul. A dangerous curiosity whispered, Break the seal. Let me show you what you want to know.

He clenched his fists. "Not today."

The sword's voice cut through sharply. "Step back, Saint. It's waking."

Before he could react, the crystal's veins flared crimson. A thunderous pulse shook the floor, tossing the sword into the wall and knocking the lamp off the table.

"Bloody hell!" the sword yelled. "I told you not to touch the creepy glowing things!"

Luther rose, golden magic swirling around him. "Everyone, back—"

But before he could finish, the door slammed open with a crash.

"WHAT—" a familiar voice boomed, "...are you all doing here?"

Everyone froze.

The air, which moments ago had been thick with tension and the faint hum of magic, now stood suspended in silence. The glowing blue crystal at the center of the table flickered once–then dimmed to nothing, as though startled too.

A beat of silence passed. Then Liliana slowly turned her head toward the door.

Standing there, framed by the faint moonlight spilling through the hallway window, was Captain Finn, a bottle of deep-red wine dangling loosely in one hand, and an amused smirk tugging at his weathered face.

Luther was the first to exhale, rubbing his temple as if finally freed from a choking grip.

"Thank the stars," he muttered dryly, "I was about to stab someone for sneezing too loudly."

Liliana and Aithur let out shaky laugh, clutching their chest.

Alina followed with a soft sigh, shoulders slumping.

Even the talkative sword let out a low hum, almost as if relieved.

"You lot look like you just saw a ghost," Finn said with a chuckle, stepping into the room. His heavy boots echoed faintly on the wooden floor. "Don't tell me you thought I was one."

Alina was quick to answer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "N–No, Captain, we were just… a little tense. The storm, the ship, and… this." She gestured vaguely at the table where the crystal sat, now innocently dull.

Finn raised a brow, following her gaze.

"Ah. So it wasn't my charming presence that froze your blood, eh?"

Luther rolled his eyes. "Your 'charming presence' would only freeze someone if they were allergic to alcohol fumes."

That earned him a quiet snort from Liliana and even a stifled laugh from Aithur.

The sword's voice hummed inside Luther's head, half amused, half irritated:

You mock even the man who brought wine. You truly have no self-preservation instinct, do you, mortal?

Luther, without missing a beat, muttered back, "Quiet, you tin can. You'll ruin the moment."

Finn, oblivious to the muttering exchange, set the bottle down on the table with a dull thud. "Well, either way," he said, unscrewing the cork with a small pop, "I came here to thank you all."

He poured the deep crimson liquid into three wooden cups.

"For saving my ship," he continued, his voice softening. "Even if she won't be sailing again for a while… at least she's still above water, not in it. And for that–" he raised one of the cups in salute– "I'm grateful."

Liliana smiled faintly, accepting the cup. "We only did what anyone would, Captain."

"Ha!" Finn barked. "Then the world must be full of heroes, because most people would've jumped ship and let the sea take her."

Luther took his cup with a shrug. "Maybe we're idiots then."

"Idiots who survived," Finn countered, eyes twinkling. "The best kind of idiots."

Alina accepted her cup too, the tension in her shoulders easing with each passing moment. The room began to feel lighter, warmer, even. For a brief time, the horrors of the storm and the strange whispering crystal seemed like nothing but a bad dream.

But then—

Finn's gaze flicked back to the table.

His easy smile faltered as he leaned closer, squinting at the now-faded crystal. "Wait a minute…" he murmured. "What are you doing with an Enfi Crystal?"

The room fell silent again.

Aithur blinked. "A what?"

"Enfi Crystal," Finn repeated, his tone changing, lower, more cautious. He looked up at them, eyes sharp. "Where did you find this?"

Luther leaned back lazily in his chair, taking a sip of the wine. "Oh, just lying around. Thought it'd make a good paperweight."

"Saint!," Alina hissed under her breath, elbowing him.

He raised a brow. "What? It's true. It's not like it came with a label that said 'Cursed Object: Do Not Touch."

The sword, clearly entertained, spoke up in its usual sardonic tone:

You really do have a death wish, don't you, human?

"Not a wish," Luther muttered under his breath, setting the cup down. "More of a mutual understanding."

Finn was staring at the crystal now, his usual easygoing demeanor gone. "Do you mean to tell me," he said slowly, "you don't know what that is?"

Liliana frowned. "You called it an Enfi Crystal. What is it?"

Finn folded his arms, his jaw tightening. "I thought you lot were heading toward Enferi Forest. You mean to tell me you didn't recognize one of its main exports?"

The name dropped like a heavy stone into the silence.

Finn nodded grimly. "That crystal–" he gestured toward it "comes from there. They're rare, but not for the reasons you might think."

Luther tilted his head, pretending interest, though his expression was half bored. "Let me guess. They hum a mysterious tune and grant wishes if you whisper your deepest desires to them under the moonlight?"

Finn shot him a look. "You can joke all you like, boy, but those things aren't toys. The last person who mined them disappeared within a week."

"Maybe he tripped and fell into a hole," Luther muttered, swirling the wine. "Mystery solved."

"Luther," Aithur hissed again, but Finn continued, his tone growing grave.

"They say the Enfi Crystals were made long ago, crafted by hands that weren't human." His gaze swept the room, lingering on each of them before he finally said it: "They were made by the Elves."

The word alone made the air tighten again.

Elves?!

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