The ruins were quiet—too quiet.

Your boots crunched over moss-covered stone, the remnants of an ancient civilization buried deep within the forest. You hadn’t planned to stray this far off the trail, but something pulled you. A feeling. A whisper carried on the wind. It wasn’t fear. It was... curiosity.

You moved carefully past broken columns and crumbled archways, the sunlight filtering through hanging vines above. In the center of the ruins stood a raised stone pedestal, untouched by time, as if the world around it had aged but this one spot remained frozen.

And resting atop the pedestal was a sword.

It wasn’t rusted. Not weathered. Not buried under dust like the rest of the ruins. It gleamed—clean, silver and gold, humming faintly with a soft blue aura. Its design was unfamiliar: elegant, otherworldly, unlike anything you'd seen before.

You stepped closer, your footsteps echoing now.

The moment your eyes locked onto the blade, the world grew still. The wind stopped. The birds fell silent. It was like the sword was watching you.

Engraved at the base of the pedestal was an inscription, written in a language you didn’t know—and yet, somehow, understood:

"The one who takes up this blade shall carry the light of another world."

Your hand hovered above the hilt.

The air around it shimmered with gentle warmth, like the edge of a dream just before waking. You could feel something stirring deep within you. Something waiting.

But you still had a choice.

[Pick up the sword] — Take the blade into your hand and embrace the unknown. [Leave it] — Step back. Walk away. The path ahead remains yours to choose.