Part 5: The Blood Bond

The crowd parted before the palace guards, a wave of stunned silence and whispered awe rippling through the plaza. Sheral felt like she was in a dream as she was escorted to the high dais, her trembling hands still clutching the impossible artifacts. Her parents were beside her, their faces pale with a mixture of terror and disbelief. They were humble weavers, now standing in the presence of the most powerful figures in Lemuria, their daughter the unwilling center of it all.

As they reached the top of the dais, the full weight of her new reality crashed down upon her. She stood before the entire Grand Council, the stern-faced Wizards, and a sea of thousands of hopeful, desperate faces all staring at her. Her gaze fell upon General Kaelen, and she flinched. The look in his eyes was not one of confusion; it was one of pure, murderous rage.

“Champion?” Kaelen’s voice was a low, dangerous snarl, barely contained. He took a threatening step towards Sheral before Elder Theron moved to block his path.

“The artifacts have chosen, General,” Theron said, his voice filled with an undeniable awe.

“The artifacts have malfunctioned!” Kaelen roared, his voice finally exploding with fury. The crowd gasped. “This is a farce! Our nation is at war, our soldiers are dying, and you would place the fate of Lemuria in the hands of a girl who has never held a sword? She is a child! A weaver!”

He was right, and Sheral knew it. A wave of shame and terror washed over her. She wanted to run, to hide, to give the artifacts to him—anything to escape the crushing weight of a million expectant eyes.

But Master Elara stepped between the furious General and the terrified girl, a small, unmovable rock in a raging river.

“The artifacts have not malfunctioned, General,” Elara said, her voice quiet but cutting through his rage like a shard of crystal. “They have done exactly what they were designed to do. They have bypassed pride, bypassed ambition, and bypassed aggression. They have found the one thing that can wield this power without being consumed by it: a pure and gentle heart.” She gave Kaelen a withering look. “A quality you know nothing about.”

She then turned to address the Council and the crowd. “The artifacts have chosen their vessel, but the bond is not yet sealed. A pact must be made. A bond of blood, so that the power of Lemuria and the spirit of this champion may be forever intertwined.”

Elara gently turned to the terrified Sheral, her ancient eyes softening with a kindness that was a balm to the young woman’s frayed nerves. “Do not be afraid, child,” she whispered, so only Sheral could hear. “You were not chosen because you are a warrior. You were chosen because you are good. That is all the strength you will ever truly need.”

Sheral looked from Elara’s reassuring face to her parents’ terrified one, and found a flicker of her own resolve. She gave a small, trembling nod.

“Hold them out,” Elara instructed.

Sheral presented the artifacts, her hands shaking as she held the humming belt and choker. Elara produced a small, ornate crystalline knife, its edge shimmering with a faint light. With the practiced care of a surgeon, the Wizard took Sheral’s hand and made a small, shallow cut across her palm. Sheral winced, a tiny gasp escaping her lips as a single drop of her blood welled up.

She was then guided to hold her bleeding hand over the artifacts. The drop of blood fell, landing squarely on the brilliant, pure white gem of the belt.

The reaction was instantaneous and magnificent. The gem hissed, and the single drop of blood did not stain it, but was absorbed into it. The pure white light within the gem was instantly transformed, a vibrant, heroic crimson spreading through its crystalline matrix like a sunrise. A second drop fell onto the choker’s gem with the same spectacular result. A wave of warm, powerful energy washed over Sheral, and the artifacts in her hands now pulsed with a deep, red, living light.

Master Elara raised Sheral’s hand high for all of Lemuria to see.

“The bond is sealed!” her voice rang out across the plaza. “The blood of the Crimea clan is now the blood of the champion! This young woman’s pure, kind, and honest heart is a marker in her blood, and now her bloodline of women will forever be the inheritors of this power! From this day forth, and for all eternity, a woman of Clan Crimea will wield this power and hold in her heart the noble and honorable values of Lemuria!”

A stunned silence held for a moment, and then the plaza exploded in a massive, ecstatic cheer. The miracle was real. Their hope was real. They had their champion.

General Kaelen, his face a thunderous mask of pure hatred, turned and stormed from the dais, his humiliation complete. Sheral watched him go, a shiver of fear running down her spine. She had not only gained a divine power; she had made a powerful, mortal enemy.

She looked down at the artifacts, at the now-red gems pulsing in time with her own heartbeat. She felt the eyes of the entire world on her. Master Elara gently took her by the arm.

“Your old life is over, child,” the Wizard said, her voice filled with a new urgency. “Your training begins now. Lemuria has a war to win.”

The Wizards led a stunned and overwhelmed Sheral away from the plaza and towards the Crystal Palace. She looked back one last time at the cheering crowd, at her weeping parents, at the life she was leaving behind. She was no longer Sheral, the humble weaver. She was Sheral Crimea, the chosen one.

The first Superwoman. And the weight of a world had just been placed on her seventeen-year-old shoulders.