Rays of sunlight poured into the Senate’s chamber, illuminating every floating spec of dust. Their soft movements the only offering to break up the grey sea of stone that comprised the drab meeting hall.

I glanced around the room, attempting to gleam what the other Senator’s might be thinking. Some maintained their composure, but most were beaming with hope, promise, or excitement.

Silence weighed heavy in the air as the young man at the center podium stared at the contents of the wooden case.

“What… is this?” He asked while looking up from the case, brushing ashen curls from his face. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the room, their brilliant golden glow piercing through the dust veil as though God himself was our interrogator.

Senator Tharros stood with a confident nod to the rest of us. His straight brown air stretched to his shoulders, framing his wrinkled face. He looked down towards the center pulpit with a soft gaze.

“That is your sword, Theo. The Blade of the Chosen One.”

Theo stared at Senator Tharros for a moment before looking back into the case.

“It’s shattered.”

“Aye, it is. Your predecessor nearly destroyed it during their battle with Mara.”

Theo squinted up at us, his eyes flicking between our watchful stares. My chest tightened with panic every time those gilded searchlights rested on me.

“Yet, Mara has returned. The sword didn’t work.” He said, his eyes resting back on Senator Tharros for a response.

The smiles faded from many of the Senator’s faces. Their excitement drained at the doubtful words spoken by their believed hero.

Tharros stood resolute, any concern he might have had was locked behind his stalwart demeanor.

“Nay. It banished Mara for nearly a century. Should you mend the-“

“Forget it.” Theo interrupted, closing the wooden case.

Gasps of shock escaped the lips of a few Senators. Senator Neia stood with a pointed hand. Tharros raised an open palm to the table before anyone had a chance to speak. Neia sat back down and leaned forward on clasped hands.

“Theo.” Tharros sighed. “If we don’t stop Mara…”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to stop her.” Theo responded, his tone flat and cold.

“But how do you hope to–“

“I’ll figure something else out.” Theo interjected again, before turning and walking out of the chamber.

A deep thunder echoed throughout the hall as the stone door closed, each resonance hammering into my chest like the beating of Death’s drums in the distance. Tharros returned to his seat and abandoned his professional stature, leaning forward and resting his face in his palms.

Senator Neia was the first to break the solemn silence. She stood again with her head hanging towards our table. I couldn’t see her face, her long black hair obstructed it, but her dismayed tone told me plenty.

“We’re doomed. If he will not take the sword, we have no hope of stopping Mara.”

Nobody responded. We all knew that the chances for survival were already slim.

Tharros exhaled, taking several seconds to empty his lungs before filling them to reply. He turned to me as he spoke, his soft eyes now darkened wells of despair.

“Mell. He is your son. What do we do?”

 ——————————

 INSPIRATION: @MicroSFF on Twitter.

"What's this?" asked the Chosen One.

"Your sword."

"It's broken."

"The previous Chosen One used it in the fight against the Evil God, and it broke in the battle."

"So it didn't work."

"But when it's mended-"

"It didn't work. I accepted the job. I'll figure something else out."