*Hate blindly ssseeksss to dessstroy, rage and fury are untempered, overwhelming reassson.* The light in the gem-like eyes grew more intense. *Wrath isss cold. It isss pure. It isss the fuel for the firesss of jussstice and a reckoning to thossse who have earned dessstuction. *
Gavin shivered at the cold intensity of those words. “Righteous indignation?” he asked, attempting to understand the distinction.
The icy intensity lessened and he got the impression that if it could, the snake would have smiled. *Yesss, it isss sssuch.* The snake pulled back and arched its head majestically. *I am Wrath, my purpossse isss to sssmite evil, if you ssshare thisss goal, take me up and together we ssshall dessstroy the abomination.*
The sword, Gavin realized, it’s an artifact. Very likely, it was a weapon forged in the days of the Ancestors, when the great powers still remained in this world. Such relics were prized among the Guardians, though most had been lost or destroyed in the battle against the Darkness.
But who was he to take up such a thing of power? He was considered cursed, deformed, had always been on the verge of all-out rejection by his own people. What right did he have to take up such a weapon?
The snake opened its mouth and hissed, barring fangs nearly a foot long. It said nothing, but its disapproval of his self-doubt was evident.
“The serpent’s fang shall become his strength.”
The words of the Skald rang suddenly in his mind. She had foreseen this, had prophesized it. Suddenly, he was certain that this was why she had sent him on this quest. He had been meant to find the sword. This weapon, the power it offered, it was his destiny!