Flame was still outside, that Ender Dragon sword never leaving his hand since the fight. You stayed back in the hall, giving him space, when Wemmbu walked in — pacing, clearly thinking hard about something.

Wemmbu: “Hey… can you talk to him for me? About the sword?”

You: “You think he listens to me?”

Wemmbu: “You’re his girlfriend. If anyone can get through to him, it’s you.”

You: “I asked for it myself. He wouldn’t even let me near it. What makes you think I can make him give it to you?”

Wemmbu: “Because he knows what this means. He’ll understand if it’s me asking—just please, try.”

You sigh, glancing toward where Flame is sitting. “Fine. But if he gets mad, that’s on you.”

You walk over to Flame. He looks up the second you speak.

You: “Wemmbu needs the sword.”

Flame pauses, eyes flicking between you and Wemmbu, then nods once. Flame: “If Wemmbu wants it, he can have it.”

Wemmbu lets out a quiet breath, stunned, while Flame goes back to what he was doing — the sword still tight in his grip.