Sword. Power. Unimaginable.
The sword has claimed Bells as it's wielder and together, they are bringing peace to the lands. The peace it brings bears a cost--free will of the conquered. They are loyal only to her, and she is loyal only to the sword.
Concerned. Morality. Love.
Jaekob misses Bells' hopeful spirit and talks of true peace. He longs for the woman he's grown to admire and cherish. With a growing army loyal only to her and with the rise of forced peace, his concerns grow.
The sword has unobtainable moral standards and there's no one left to stand against it. Jaekob will do whatever it takes to ensure the heart of the woman he loves is safe.
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Bells was curled up in the cushioned nook of her bedroom window with one arm resting on the Sword of Fire, Shmsharatsh, which lay across her lap. She never went anywhere without the ancient blade these days, protecting it from the many people trying to control it. Plenty of those people would be willing to steal it if she let her guard down, and the consequences would be disastrous.
In the distance, a light flared. It lasted only a couple of seconds, but immediately after that, a dull roar rolled through the neighborhood. Her window rattled, and across the room, Jaekob half rose from his padded, antique chair.
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