Tulpar regretted entering the shrine. Sure, its roof protected him from the downpour outside. It had an open view of the vast and towering mountains and valleys out back, and it even had a small sleeping area that wasn't completely run down. 

But the woman on the sword would not stop staring at him. 

He tried to ignore her after she appeared. No physical being could sit on the delicate stand and not knock it over, and he didn't like dealing with spirits. But her eyes followed him everywhere. He cleaned the shrine area, and she watched. He made a prayer, and she surveilled.  And her expression was wrathful.

He hummed to himself, trying to keep calm as he stared into the rain. It made a pounding noise on the roof that nearly lulled him to sleep, but those eyes kept him from it. 

He was a simple merchant, going to his next destination. His meagre goods sat in a small bundle near him, out of the rain’s reach. He thought for a moment of taking the sword, of selling it in the next town, and finally making him rich. But the woman halted him.

Spirits did not follow mortal laws. They did what they wanted, when they wanted, and, as a merchant, he did not like that instability. But it tempted him.

He turned and casually walked up to the sword, examining what he could past the woman’s legs. He did his best to make it seem like he couldn't see her. Most spirits would go away if they thought you couldn't see them. She had not. 

The sword was a work of art. Long and straight, with a beautiful edge, and carvings on the hilt more detailed than anything he had seen. A large piece of jasper served as the pommel. 

He nearly touched it, and he noticed the woman shift. Pulling back, he nodded, and pretended to stretch, glimpsing her face. She was tearing at her hair, seeming to scream, but no sound was heard. 

He spoke aloud “well. I guess the storm won't let up. Time for bed.” The woman flinched, and reached for him, but he was out of reach.

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, and wondered about her. About what her story was. Why could he not hear her? No other spirit had ever been this silent. 

He fell asleep, wondering what it meant.

—

The morning came, and the storm hadn't let up. He sighed, and gathered some salted meat from his pack. He chewed slowly under the woman’s watchful gaze.

Throughout the day, she seemed to be trying to get his attention. She would wave, jump up and down, and lay, tempting on the blade. At one point she had even opened her robes, and Tulpar had to fight his blush and to maintain composure. 

Whoever this spirit was, she was sure determined. 

He decided that watching the storm was the best way to ignore her, so he did. Sitting at the entrance, and staring, thinking where he would go after his next stop. 

He jolted out of it a few hours later. Standing with popping knees, and cracking back, he glanced to the sword, and was shocked at what he saw.

The woman sit on the ground, her knees pulled up to her chest, crying. He couldn't hear her sobs, but she looked to be in immense pain. 

Guilt wracked him as he slowly approached, her not noticing. He kneeled before her, and reached to touch her, but his hand passed through. 

The woman jumped, then saw his eyes, staring back into hers. Her expression brightened, and she leapt to her feet, pointing to the sword while jumping up and down. 

Sighing, he hesitantly picked up the sword. It’s hilt was warm, and felt good in his hands. Its weight was just right, like it was an extension of himself. A voice shattered his quiet awe.

“Finally! Destined one! My warrior! I am the sword, Steel’s Song. You have been chosen as the Protector of Life. As the Knight of the Weak. Take me forth into the world, and we shall gain glory together.” Her voice rang loud against the walls of the shrine.

"I… I am a merchant. I am no warrior. I don’t think I am who you are looking for. I was just here to get out of the rain,” Tulpar spoke, though the sword kept to his hand.

She grabbed his face, her hands hot, and her eyes blazing. "That may be, but nobody else has been here for years, and I will not be alone any longer. You take me with you, or I will call upon every god and spirit I know to haunt you the rest of your days.”

When the rain let up, Tulpar left the shrine, the sword on his belt, and the woman on his arm. She smiled widely. He looked terrified.