CHAPTER 1.

TWENTY YEARS LATER.

Songs were sung each night, remembering the fallen and the tragic loss of Uther Pendragon.

Though Uther would forever live on through memory and foundation of Londinium, Camelot, and England would forever grieve his death. Though suffering defined each Human. It reminded them how far they've gotten.

Suffering reminded Humanity that suffering had no boundaries, nor did it ever give up without a fight.

Axel combed her hands through her blonde hair. She cupped her hands and splashed icy, cold water onto her face. Cleaning off the small amount of copper, stained, iron that covered her cheek.

The day the King sacrificed himself, was the day everyone lost a part of themselves. That day the Blackguards promised to return to the time of Ragnarök, the end of the world. Which led to a clue that they were preparing something big, perhaps it was only a bluff, created to scare Camelot into surrendering.

Scars were etched within her skin. Axel had very valid memories of her mother, she could only recall hiding in a cupboard and abandoning her mother out of fear. She couldn't understand why she was so willing to run. Axel knew she should have stayed with her.

And therefore, she carried that guilt, knowing she was the last of the Embers family. Last mark of the bloodline that carried on. A soft wind crawled up her spine, making goosebumps scatter across her bare arms.

"Again, when ready," Alaric repeated. Alaric was her teacher, someone as close as family to her. He was a dark-skinned male with, a sharp jawline, and shortly cut hair. He took Axel under his wing, trained her along with the men. Even when women were treated lower than men, every man in the Court Of Fighters treated her like one of them.

At first, acceptance was an issue, but after several years of training, she started to grow on them. She was trained from hand to hand in combat, then moved on to training with how to swing a wooden sword, along with the basics of how to deflect and strike. Along the way of managing her anger and fuelling the emotions into each strike.

"Sounds good." Axel wheezed with exhaustion. Her frame was built and lean. She wasn't attractive like many women of Camelot. But she had something most women didn't have.

Patience.

Alaric taught her that patience pays off. He made her meditate for five hours until she saw something. That was when her soul became one with her.

"Marcus, you'll spar with Axel." Alaric calmly ordered Marcus. Marcus was lean and a couple of inches taller than her. He possessed a sharp jawline, along with thick, raven-coloured hair, that hung over his left eye. He gave her a shy, but charming smile.

"Sure." He replied as if he desired that day to fight Axel.

He only wanted both of them to become better fighters, in case the attack of Camelot, Londinium, and England came crumbling under their feet. Alaric handed Marcus two, wooden, swords. Marcus tossed one over to her, with a tight grasp, she gripped onto her sword as if her life depended on it. Her eyes were cold, she licked her lips and smiled at Marcus.

"Let's see what you got, sunshine." Marcus joked, throwing her off guard before they hardly began. Marcus made the first move and swung at her with his sword. She parried his attacks and pushed against his sword, pushing it down. His strength matched hers, even when it became a hassle. Marcus's jaw locked, anger seethed through his veins.

He underestimated her, believing this would be over in a couple of minutes. She ducked when his sword swung at her face, this was no going back. She swiftly crept behind him and humour bubbled up through her chest. She hit him on the butt with her sword, causing him to stumble forward. He growled in frustration when boisterous laughter echoed the Court Of Fighters.

Axel offered a hand to Marcus, seeking only peace and not aggravating arguments or rants about her cheating. Marcus took her hand but unexpectedly flipped her onto her back. She scoffed and whined when the wind was knocked out of her.

"Cheap shot." Axel groaned, collecting the oxygen that was knocked out of her. Marcus placed his hands on his hips and gave a Cheshire-cat smile.

"Alright, alright, though we can say now that I won that one." Marcus chuckled, lightly.

"Marcus, that's enough. Where's your honour?" Alaric scolded Marcus. The smile of Axel's best friend slowly vanished into a poker face. Now unreadable and unpredictable.

Marcus dropped his sword and parted paths with Alaric and Axel preferring to conceal his thoughts to himself. It proved to be useful in this situation, to not question the Master.

Axel propped herself up with her shoulders and jumped onto her feet.

"You think he'll get over it?" Axel questioned Alaric, keeping her gaze focused on the door as if his ghost passed by through the room.

"He'll have to. And he'll have to accept that you won today's battle. I want you to meet here tomorrow, earlier than the others." Alaric requested, crossing his arms.

"What is this about?" She questioned anxiously.

"You'll see." Alaric chose to keep his request a secret. Which became overly concerning for Axel. Whether this was good news or bad news. She hoped he wasn't letting her go from the Court Of Fighters.

Axel gave a simple nod to Alaric. Leaving him after he answered her, choosing not to ask further questions.

That night, she returned to her small home. A small passing breeze brushed against her skin. She slept comfortably on her side, allowing sleep to cloak her in soft ebony.

***

Soft whispering grasped her attention. She stood there in a dark void, wondering where she was or whether this was real or not.

"Come closer." a voice called out from the abyss.

Axel followed the voice over to a mirror. It was slender and tall. Axel hesitantly reached for the mirror. The image of her reflection changed and showed a sword that remained in a stone. She could only recall that it was the sword of Uther Pendragon.

Goosebumps scattered across her skin, and a chill crawled up her spine. She spent a couple of minutes basking in the instant connection that drew her to the image of the sword. With hesitation, she reached for the mirror.

The pads of her fingers touched the glass of the mirror. She felt its liquid-like surface. Her fingertips sunk beneath the mirror's surface.

She felt something curl around her arm as if someone was reaching out for her. She took a small step back and dragged whatever held onto her.

Her heart started to race when it appeared to be a hand holding onto her arm. Its skin was pale, and up to its wrist was coated in dark sludge. As dark as night and as thick as oil. She watched as it stepped out of the mirror, revealing its appearance.

The thing appeared to be Human, the same height as her, but female. Her skin was albino coloured, as pale as fresh snow. Her hair was woven from the dark abyss of the night sky, consisting of fine strands of starlight.

Long lashes and short curled hair, like her own. The woman opened her eyes, consisting of vivid gold. As bright as flames.

A small, unnoticeable smirk curled from her lips. It was almost easy to miss. Echo stepped back, yanking her hand away from the woman.

The woman was a copy of Axel but from a different timeline. On the other hand, she held a sword, it glowed red, the opposite of Uther's sword.

"Legend tells of a sword with an unquenchable thirst for blood, but all who wield it become erased from existence." The woman whispered. It was the same whisper that called her over to accompany the mirror.

"What?" Axel questioned.

"You heard me. If you want answers, summon me from the mirror of truth, free me from the curse, or watch as everything you love burns." She whispered the last part, fading into small particles of matter.

"Wait!" Axel yelled at the top of her lungs.

Darkness collected Axel, with a soft and velvety embrace. She expected that it was only fiction, a scene her brain created.

The air was calm, not even a feather would cradle itself to the ground. The things she's seen in that dream haunted her as if sleep became a dangerous thing. The sky was an ebony cloak that embraced the light. No stars shine that night. Cold sweat dripped from her forehead. Her heart gently ascended, as realisation trapped her thoughts.

She was in her room, her back rested against the cot of the wooden bed. Her mind was racing, and there was this constant buzzing in her mind. Her mind was like a flat battery the moment she woke up, drained with exhaustion.

The exertions of the night being a marathon of an erratic process of problems, as it seemed.

"Find the mirror of truth and release 'me' from the curse...what a joke." Axel fell back onto the fur blankets, her head missed the headboard by inches.