He unwrapped it carefully, like it was something precious. And it was.
The silver blade shimmered slightly, even in the low light. The hilt was familiar, with the emerald shining beneath the black, intricate steel. It was exactly how Luke had given it to her.
Olivia reached out and took it, holding it with both hands.
It was cold, but it felt right. She held it close to her chest, squeezing her eyes shut. Her lips parted, but she couldn't say anything. Her throat was too tight.
Tyler stood, brushing the dirt from his pants. "He would've wanted you to have it."
"I know," she whispered, her voice cracking.
Tyler looked at her for a moment longer, then stepped out of the tent, leaving her alone. He wanted to talk about the thing he had been dying to know, however, he knew that this wasn't the best time to ask anything.
Olivia sat down slowly, still holding the sword. Her fingers brushed along the edge, letting its chill seep into her.
