"Who do I remind you of...?" Skullius asked curiously. Apparently, only the gnawing itch to know something could brighten even the dimming sensations of a soul.
The woman stared him, a rather disgruntled look on her face. Strangely, even such an expression added to her exquisite beauty.
"Demion, of course," she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, her eyes keenly looking into Skullius'.
"Demion...?" Skullius was confused at first, but then his mind was shocked into realisation.
"Are you... Could you be... Demion's Dan—"
"My name is Irisa," the woman said with a light frown, slicing off whatever Skullius had been about to say. "But yes... to you, I'm just a sword. I was weaved into it in the end, tied to death itself for Demion... and now to you."
The woman, Irisa, took a frustrated breath.
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