The battle was done, but the courtyard of this long-abandoned castle still reeked of toxic spores and blood - both mortal and demonic. The ground was littered with the shattered stones from fallen walls, patches of earth burnt from acidic breath, and pieces of something demonic and unholy hacked from their core.

  The few remaining walls bore deep gouges, claw marks raked by something ancient and furious. What evil had lived here once was gone now. Slain.

  A fiend, some demonic bat-like chimera born of rage and black magic, had met their match. It was massive, twisted, and cunning, its claws sharp enough to cleave steel and its vile poisonous breath potent enough to wither the strongest warrior where they stood. Now, its husk oozed thick black blood just beyond the shattered entrance to the courtyard.

  And beside that entrance, a man rested.

  The warrior slumped against the moss-slicked wall, his chest rising and falling in slow, ragged rhythm. Sweat clung to his skin, smeared with grit and blood, most of it his own. His arm, trembling from exhaustion, hung over the hilt of his great sword - a massive thing, chipped and stained, but unmistakably alive.

  A single, wide eye blinked from the blade’s guard, excitedly, its gaze full of manic light.

  "Did you see that?" the sword said, its voice buzzing with excitement. "When it lunged and you rolled under its arm? I thought we were done for - seriously! But no, you were brilliant! Brilliant and reckless and insane! Gods, I love it when you do that."

  The man gave a soft, wheezing chuckle. "Oh, I saw it." he replied, weakly.

  "And the second slash! Right through its shoulder! Did you hear it shriek? That might haunt some lesser adventurer's nightmares, but not yours. You stood your ground and went back for more!" The sword paused, and if a blade could gleam with pride, it did.

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  "We make a good team, don’t we? I mean, sure, you do the swinging and stabbing and rolling, but I really feel like I bring something to the table too. Other than the enchantments."

  “You…always have,” the man murmured, voice barely audible. His head lolled against the wall, sweat and blood streaking his brow.

  The sword chuckled. "I mean, yeah. And to think back to that merchant at the Night Market - the one who thought he was ripping you off with an 'enchanted sword.' Joke’s on him. I was the best thing he ever sold. You and me, we're unbeatable."

  The man smiled, faint and flickering. “Best coin I ever spent. You’ve… always been reliable, old friend.”

  "Of course I have. You’re my master. My partner. My best friend."

  The warrior closed his eyes, the throbbing pain threatening to pull him under. He knew what was happening, felt it when that demon's claw tore through his armor and into his side, and he knew now that it was time to stop pretending for the sake of his friend.

  “…I'm tired, friend. So.. very tired. I think.. I think that this might be it.”

  The sword fell silent.

  The eye blinked once, struggling to see his friend.

  "Hey…?" it said, quieter now.

  The man gave a soft, rattling breath. "Try... " wheeze "...try not to talk the next guy's ear off, yeah? I hate to leave you like this, but... I can't feel anything. Can't see anything." the warrior coughed, wet as blood trickled from his mouth's corners. He gave a faint, bitter smile. "But hey.. it.. doesn't hurt anymore."

  "Hey. Don’t do this. Don’t go quiet on me. Say something dumb. Tell me to shut up. Laugh. Just… say something." the sword begged, its voice cracking.

  But the man said nothing.

  "Please. Say something." the sword cried softly.

  He was still.

  Gone.

  The sword sat with him in the dark, quiet now. Its eye wept for the first time, though it did not understand how or why.

  Outside, the world moved on, blissfully unaware of a hero’s sacrifice. The people once beset by the now-dead fiend thrived, never knowing what became of the monster - or the man with the strange, talkative sword. Time moved on.

  But the sword did not. And years passed as it continued its vigil, until finally one day, a brave explorer found the oddest looking great sword resting in crumbling courtyard. They took it up, curious. But the sword said nothing. It never spoke again.