You don’t own Silverdeath.
Silverdeath owns you.
It’s a very powerful sword and it takes over the minds of its bearers.
Sometimes, it’s a big warrior.
Other times, it’s a kid.
Peasants, prostitutes, and princes.
But it’s always the same arrogant tone in their voice.
When Silverdeath gets bored with a bearer, it looks for a new one.
And it’s not enough to abandon that person.
“Kill me,” they say.
Only the strong-willed can resist Silverdeath.
Going out to the forest, burying the cursed blade.
But it calls out for another, promising great power and wealth.
“And bring a shovel.”