Vengeance

“Yes, my friend… your old sword... do you remember how it sang?”
The figure bowed its shrouded head and from the ash at its feet a skeletal hand rose, still clasping a hilt untouched by time. The blade, long buried, drank the cold air as if waking from a dream.
“We fell here,” the voice continued, soft as drifting cinders. “Betrayed, forgotten, left for an eternity. But steel remembers what flesh forgets.”
Smoke curled through empty ribs and torn banners alike and the dead warrior stirred, bound not by life but by unfinished oath.
“Rise now. Take again what was taken. Together we will carve our path through those who thought time would spare them.”
And the sword rose and with it countless screams echoed throughout the sky as Vengeance remembered his name.