“That was close,” said Merryway, as they pressed on. “If it does come to a fight, you’ll need a weapon.”

  “I’ve been making do with these scissors,” Thyssa said.

  Merryway winced. “That’s…not exactly ideal, is it?” They drew a shortsword from their belt and handed it to Thyssa.

  Thyssa thanked Merryway, twirled the weapon in her hand. “If we’re sharing weapons,” said Thyssa, “why don’t you take this one, and I’ll take that bigger one?” She gestured to the elaborate longsword remaining on Merryway’s belt.

  “Why?” asked Merryway.

  “The Trials are your thing. Fighting is my thing. I want to be as good at it as possible, and that requires the right tools.”

  Merryway looked concerned. “You define yourself through fighting?”

  Thyssa shrugged. “Everyone does, one way or another. What makes me special is how good I am at it. I’ve been winning fights since I was a little kid!”

  Merryway did not seem to be impressed. They just looked sad. “Can you name something else you’re proud of?”

  Thyssa stretched out, smiled at Merryway. “I’m pretty, too.”

  Merryway laughed, a little too loudly. Their face was flushed. “Well! That’s. Yes. Off to a good start!”

  The rush Thyssa felt was powerful enough for her to shrug off the aches from the venom. It was so easy to enchant this human, but that’s part of what made it so exciting.

  “But, really,” said Thyssa. “Even scissors are deadly in my hands. With a thing like that, I’d cut down anything in our way.”

  Merryway’s hand went to their hip. “No!”

  Thyssa nodded approvingly. “Fair enough. There is sense in keeping the best weaponry to yourself. Maximizes your own survival odds.”

  Merryway looked regretful. “It’s not that. It’s…this is my burden to bear.”

  “Your weapon is a burden?” Thyssa didn’t understand. To Grendel Pack, a weapon was a joy. It was how you survived. If you didn’t have weapons of your own, then you’d seek them out, and there was no shame in doing so.

  “The sword is cursed, like all things that kill. It has slain many and acquired a taste for blood. It is Grief Chaser, the sword that cuts apart flesh and families.”

  Thyssa narrowed her eyes. The way Merryway was talking about it, it was almost as if…“It’s…alive?”

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  Merryway shook their head. “It’s dead. And it wants company.”

  “How do you know this? Is this a weapon of your Goddess?”

  “No. The Goddess would never give us such a thing. Grief Chaser has its own legends, born from tragic experience. My father told them to me. It was his sword, in times of crisis.”

  Thyssa narrowed her eyes. “If you fear it so much, why use it?”

  Merryway’s face was intense. “It has one advantage. The curse cuts both ways. So to speak. It wants you to die, but not before you’ve slain your enemies. If you need it, if your skill ever fails, it can turn defeat into victory – once.”

  “And then it won’t save you the next time?”

  “And then you die in battle, then and there.”

  Thyssa swallowed. “Then your father…”

  Merryway closed their eyes. “Saved us from an invader’s army.”

  Thyssa looked down. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You must be desperate, to use that weapon.”

  Merryway nodded. “It is the blade of those who cannot surrender and must not fail.”

  “I’m surprised your clan let you have such a thing.”

  Merryway laughed. “They didn’t. I stole it.”

  “You had to steal your weapon?”

  “Grief Chaser is always taken, never asked for, never offered. None of us could bear to hand such a burden to another.”

  “But, I mean, your clan sends you on a sacred quest to save the Matriarch, and you’re second-in-line, and they just…left you to fend for yourself? They didn’t, say, steal some Walled Garden tech? Send an army with you? Not even like a goat?”

  Merryway looked down. “They didn’t send me. They wouldn’t have even let me. I…I just snuck out.”

  “But who were they going to send to save your mother?”

  Merryway looked up at Thyssa with weary eyes.

  Thyssa shrunk back. “They were…just going to let her die?”

  “They didn’t think they had a choice.”

  Thyssa recalled the Glurk’s words. “Nobody’s been to the Goddess Fountain in decades.”

  The words felt different now. Before, it had just seemed like a warning of the difficulty, the danger. Now it hit her. This was a people’s place of worship, a source of hope. And it was lost.

  “Not for want of trying,” said Merryway. “My great-uncle made the pilgrimage before I was born. My aunt went when I was five. My cousin went three years ago. None of them made it back.”

  “I’m sorry. What happened to them?”

  Merryway shook their head. “That’s one of the things I’m trying to figure out. If I can learn why they failed, we can avoid repeating our mistakes. My suspicion is the malforms got them. It would fit the timeline – our pilgrimages only started to fail once those things started appearing.”

  Thyssa felt uneasy. “What about the trials? Couldn’t they have failed?”

  Merryway looked grim. “I hope not.”

  “What? Why would that be worse?”

  Merryway sighed. “Don’t worry about it.”

  They walked together in silence for some time.

  “I’m surprised you’re so reluctant to pass on Grief Chaser.”

  “Do you want to die, Thyssa?” Merryway’s voice was solemn.

  Thyssa laughed. “Well, no. That’s why I’m here, right? But, from your perspective, you hardly know me. And, if we fail, I’ll die anyway from the poison. So why would you take the risk instead of putting it on me?”

  Merryway didn’t hesitate to answer. Their voice was strong and proud. “The only life that’s yours to risk is your own. That is why Grief Chaser is my burden to bear. Do not ask for it again.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Merryway smiled. “Don’t be sorry.”

  Thyssa fixed the shortsword’s scabbard to her belt and smiled back at Merryway. “Okay.”

  “There’s that smile!”

  “Merryway?”

  “Yes?”

  “You won’t have to use the curse, okay? You’ve got me.”

  “I appreciate it, Thyssa. I’m glad I don’t have to walk this path alone.” Their face turned solemn. “But you mustn’t make promises you don’t know you can keep.”