LANCE
I approached the gleaming sword. Startled by the reflection it's giving me. Instead of my face, I see another person's face on it. Green wrinkled skin, black sullen eyes, like dark empty hole pointing downwards to the Earth's core. I cringed at its sight.
"I wouldn't touch it if I were you." Someone behind me said. Another guy, not Lista. This one is taller, has an air of authority around him. Blonde hair, deep scar on the lower part of his cheek, his eyes are startling metallic grey. His muscles are no joke. I can see the layers of trained hard abs beneath his white thin V collar shirt.
"Who are you?" I asked. He didn't spare me a glance and just stared at the creature reflected in the silver sword.
"That weapon is forged with the use of mana from the Faeries. So anyone who's not a Faery and touch the hilt with their bare hands will die."