Magic sword

 

Long ago, in a village whose name no one remembers or cares to remember, lived a man about whom little was known. Only a handful of people had ever seen him, but even so, the sound of the name Brucletian the Big-Headed made the villagers' hearts stiffen. From the stories of this small group of curious people, Brucletian was a powerful sorcerer. Every morning, he would go out onto the terrace of his forbidding castle on the outskirts of the village and pray for almost an hour, concocting strange potions and making terrible noises. Rumors circulated that he wanted to create something that would destroy humanity and thus grant him dominion over the entire world. But none of them truly knew what Big-Headed intended. Every day, the postman also brought the sorcerer letters, which were usually different from ordinary mail. The envelopes were strangely colored, with an old-fashioned seal on the outside. More than once, the postman, out of pure curiosity, tried to open a mysterious letter, only to end up burned by the leaking liquid. Perhaps no one would ever have learned who this man was, hiding behind his castle walls for years, if it weren't for the fact that every person, even a sorcerer, must eventually end their life.

One day, every villager received the exact same letter with the exact same words:

"I kindly request you to visit me tomorrow at my old castle at exactly noon, otherwise an eternal curse will be cast upon you and your descendants."

Brucletian the Big-

Headed. As one might have guessed, the villagers took the invitation seriously, and everyone, healthy and sick, gathered at the castle. This time, it looked different than usual: the large gate, which had always stood closed, was open today, and the terrace, supposedly used for prayers, looked as if nothing ever happened there. Everyone gathered in a huge room, bare except for a large bed covered with a velvet screen. From it came a voice:

"This is my last moment,

among you is my kindred spirit.

Whoever obtains my great sword,

will turn into liquid if unused.

The crystal sword has great power,

fulfilling all whims every night.

But it will not be easy to obtain,

for it may be hidden anywhere.

There may be many who want the sword

, but one who is too greedy will not reach his goal."

Decades had passed since this event, but unfortunately, no one had managed to find the magic sword. The entire sorcerer's castle was searched for any trace of the armor, but unfortunately, nothing was found. The castle was haunted daily by people willing to sacrifice everything for the crystal sword and what it could conjure.

The first day of spring was approaching, bringing not only the warmth and beauty of nature but also new adventurers eager to acquire the sorcerer's sword. One of them was a boy who desired the sword for the sake of his mother, who was terminally ill. He claimed that only a sword that granted wishes could help her. Imagine his surprise when, on the steps leading to the mysterious fortress, a beautifully crafted sword of pure crystal gleamed. Engraved on the blade in ornate letters was the inscription:

"The sword is yours, may it serve you."

The boy ran home as quickly as he could, where his dying mother lay in bed. Then, holding the sword, he uttered the words: "Mother, farewell!" At that moment, the tool began to melt, leaving only a wet stain behind. But neither the mother nor the boy worried. They embraced and happily thanked Brucletianus the Big-Headed for this miracle. The woman recovered instantly and for a long time couldn't believe their good fortune.

Many people searched for the sword, but why did this particular boy find it? The answer is simple: only he wasn't driven by greed, and he was probably Big-Headed's soulmate. After all, they were both good, and the sorcerer took advantage of everyone's little knowledge of him to teach these greedy and evil people a lesson. The sword melted because nothing was needed for the boy and his mother's happiness anymore