The Stained

Part 5

The sword called to him.

Not called, per se, but something caused the boy to stop moving forward and double back. He almost missed it, the black blade camouflaged by the night sky. He picked it up and ran his hand along to cool stone blade, feeling every imperfection in the rough-cut stone. The sword carved from a single piece of glass-like stone, its hilt wrapped in leather straps. It was spotless, as if it had never shed a single ounce of blood.

The boy stopped admiring the sword as he caught something moving in the corner of his eye.