A new day began, the six of them now a confirmed group heading through the Canyon. Though Nomma had joined them, they all agreed that he could use them to secure safe passage through to an exit. After they left the Canyon of Fire, it would be up to him if he'd stay or part ways. For now, he was one of them.
Rather than asking him prying questions of his life or why he'd come into the Canyon, they talked amongst themselves, letting him join in with words as he desired, no pressuring as to make it seem like they were banding against him in interrogation.
As they came across obstacles in their path, Nomma was beside Nadia, hanging out in the back safely while the others took care of the fighting. Occasionally, the two of them would exchange quiet words, a sense of friendship flourishing between them.
"Where are you from?"
Nadia watched Haq and Abana fall into disagreement while competing to off the creature in the path. Haq stopped moving, his mouth falling open before he shouted something that made her laugh, the both of them barely dodging injury.
"Hiatsu."
Nomma, familiar with the location, nodded. "It floods there often, doesn't it?"
"That's part of the reason I want to end the disasters caused by the God and Goddess. Nature throws out its own problems in the area, but every three-hundred years, the whole town has to be rebuilt by the survivors."
"I'm from the mountains. Usually there's avalanches of rock and some cave homes collapse when they clash."
Despite their somber words of tragedy, Nadia let out a tiny note of laughter, a small smile on her face.
"What?"
"I was just thinking. I lived by the water, practically in the ocean. You lived in the clouds. It's two extremes."
The corners of his mouth lifted as well, taking in her words.
"Most difficult habitable places. Put survival into the highest difficulty, that's for sure."
As the others regrouped, they set out again, taking what was needed and leaving the rest behind.
One by one, they all slowed as they walked towards a strange sight in the rock wall of the Canyon. A glint of metal reflected in their eyes as the light of the star was at their backs. With a black and red woven handle barely visible, the rest of the weapon embedded deeply as though part of the landscape. The dirt directly beneath it, as it rested at eye level, was disturbed, shallow depressions made from the boots of those who had passed through before.
Unmoved over time, as if waiting for the proper person, it looked like once free, the one holding the handle would have a large sword in their grasp. Undeterred by the marks in the ground, Haq strode up to it and grabbed it with just one hand, giving it a solid tug.
It remained as though untouched, not giving way in the slightest to his strength. Rather than anger or frustration at the failure, Haq brushed off his hands on his shorts and laughed as though delighted.
"That's stuck in there," he remarked before following after Lyruk, who'd merely given it a disinterested passing glance, his pace the only one that remained steady until he noticed the slowing steps of the others.
Abana, curious after Haq's words, stepped next to it and reached up to try it herself.
"For once," she said, grabbing the end of her axe again as she turned toward Haq. "You're right."
"For once?"
"Yeah. What a terrible fluke." Her voice oozed sarcasm as she passed by him.
He scoffed at her teasing, a smile rising on his face as he followed her path.
Elavale brushed both of her hands off on her pants before taking the handle, putting a foot against the rocks beneath it, not bothering to care if it sent her back with the force of it releasing from the wall.
She sighed.
"I suppose I'm not meant to have this." Her foot landed gracefully on the dirt as she spun and stepped away from the sword. Giving it a longing backward glance, she patted a weapon at her waist. "A big sword would've been more fun to play with though," she murmured, shaking her head as she too retreated from her attempt.
Nomma, with a hesitant step, eyed the handle and continued on. Something about the red woven into it didn't sit well with him. He couldn't pinpoint the cause of the feeling, not aside from the color, but because of it, he refused to try and claim the weapon.
The last to pass it by, Nadia, took great care to observe as she grew closer. Her gaze caught on the red and black twisted design of the grip, as well as the silver glint of a sharp edge. However, as she reached it, close enough to touch it easily, her feet carried her past it.
Wait. Turn back.
Her body froze, coming to a complete stop just a few feet beyond it. A chill raced down her spine, an involuntary shiver following it, a small tremor shaking her body briefly. Eyes landing on those ahead of her, of the laughter and chit-chat, she took note of their weapons. Her gaze landed on the one small dagger she'd been gifted. A way to protect herself. One she was taught how to use.
Nadia didn't need a big flashy weapon she'd not be able to wield properly. She tried to remind herself that she didn't want to fight anyone. Whatever she had would be for defending, not attacking. In her mind, a sword like that, one with such a wide blade, was surely held by those who swung first.
Try it.
She wasn't sure if the voice was her own, coming from deep within her consciousness, or if it was something produced by the Canyon. The words themselves were like an intrusive thought, begging her to reconsider passing by the opportunity. If nothing happened, nothing changed. And if it did? Was it too daring to put a voice to the name of destiny?
Her head slowly turned back, gaze drawn like moth to flame, all attention now diverted as her vision filled with what was visible of the blade, the intricacies of the grip, the colors that so closely resembled fire that she could spark with just a simple focused thought.
What's the harm in trying?
Taking a deep breath, she looked back to the others, those who were seeming to now notice her presence, or rather, the lack of it among them. Possessed by an indescribable urge, her hand reached up all on its own to grasp the handle firmly. It was startling how comfortable it felt on her palm. With a decisive movement, she reached out and yanked hard on the handle, expecting nothing more than an aching arm from the sudden straining use.
Though expecting it in some strange way, Naida's eyes widened regardless.
"Don't get left behind, Nadia!" Elavale, noticing her absence, called out.
She didn't move at the words aimed her way, couldn't find the mental fortitude to overcome the shock currently running wild in her body.
It wasn't that heavy.
How strange of a thought to cross her mind first, before even attempting to understand the symbols etched in the blade, glaringly red on silver.
It had come free so easily, as if a pencil lightly tucked in someone's tied hair or the rocks were clouds, unable to resist her. In her hold was the very weapon the rest hadn't been able to pull free of the rocks with brute strength. Her mind grappled with conflicting thoughts as she tightened her grip. There was no corresponding memory, but a sense of familiarity rushed through her body, as if she'd held this very sword once before. She didn't move, but within her head, she knew how to wield this weapon, knew how to stand, how to move her arms and wrists.
Holding the sword up in front of her as if it were both precious and fragile, she turned it in hand, studying the symbols on it. Though having a guess at the meaning, two were that which she'd seen before a number of times. They were the same as the ones marking her palms. It was odd to see them elsewhere, a first for spotting them on something other than her own skin.
In the dying light of day, the star sinking toward the horizon ever so slowly, signaling their need to find camp soon, the weapon seemed as if it would glow. It was all she could see.
She heard them, felt as much as sensed their presences as they returned to her, clearly wondering why she wasn't responding or joining them.
"Nadia, you–" Haq started to say before pausing. His steps stopped rather suddenly, noticing against the distant light of the star, highlighting her frame with an addition, that she had pulled the weapon free.
"Is she trying to pull the sword?" Elavale asked distantly.
"Don't strain yourself," Abana called out, walking closer.
"She has it," Haq stated plainly, just as Abana began to move past him.
She whipped her head to him before looking back at Nadia, realizing he was right. Her eyes widened considerably.
"She has the sword," she whispered, partly in awe.
She remembered first coming across her own weapon in the Canyon, the feeling of familiarity mixed with profound confusion. It was only after someone else tried to lift the axe that she realized what had been light to her was similar to weightlifting for another, few even able to pull it off the ground, much less be able to swing it properly.
And yet, she was oddly proud of Nadia, not even for pulling the sword free of the wall, something clearly like a legend of its own, but for allowing herself to consider the possibility that she could hold such a weapon despite her clear aversion to fighting of any kind.
"Come on, what's going on?" Elavale demanded as she approached them, Lyruk and Nomma behind her.
Nadia turned, sword in hand, eyes still wide as she looked between them all. Elavale, Lyruk, and Nomma all stopped, seeing a weapon in her grip that was nearly four feet in length.
"I have a sword now?" Nadia attempted, lacking confidence in the statement, the words emerging as a question instead.
Haq whistled, shaking his head, seeing the full design of it.
"Looks like it was waiting for you."
As the daylight began to end once again, they busied themselves with making camp, the women and men taking up opposite sides of the campfire. Elavale pointed out a water source, a small trickling stream of water off to the side. Rather than leaving it as a job for one to bring drink to the others, it was a self-serve type of deal.
Nomma headed over with a small canteen he'd had on him, and Nadia followed shortly after. As she neared, her footsteps startled him, causing him to lose hold of the canteen in his hands. He caught it in the air, jostling the contents, some of the water lifting over the edge.
It felt eerily like slow-motion. The rise of the water, the clumsy catch, and the spill that didn't occur.
Nomma, overcome by sudden instinct, froze. Canteen in hand, a bead of sweat rolled down his neck and back, anxiety rising like a sudden heat wave. There was a small gasp, and he shut his eyes and pursed his lips, in an effort to block out his own mistake from existence.
Rather than sloshing over the rim and dripping down his hand to the ground, the water had risen helplessly in the air, making a stream back into the canteen, commanded to do so.
"What did you just do?" Nadia hissed, eyes boring into Nomma, suddenly aware that he wasn't as simple as an ordinary human. She was starkly aware of what she'd seen, but gave him a chance to explain himself. Perhaps, he was like her. Human, and yet, not.
"Nothing," he said, even as his eyes widened in alarm. "What are you talking about?"
At Nadia's serious stare, unwavering and confident, Nomma immediately caved, leaning closer. His eyes darted between her own as he held her gaze.
"Don't tell anyone," he whispered.
"Who are you?"
It wasn't an accusation. The quiet murmur Nadia responded with was more a question.
His gaze fell to the ground, to the canteen of water in his hands.
"I was born like this."
Striding back to the others as if nothing happened, not waiting for a response that was likely to ostracize him once again, Nomma left her standing there. She watched him leave.
Water.
Fire.
She stared down at her gloved hands. As her sight lingered, her fingers curled, tightening into a fist.
"Born like it, huh?" she muttered quietly.
Nadia glanced back at the campfire, to someone who was perhaps the most like herself, each of them holding back a secret that left them lonely.