Maelor's palm clamped tight around the hilt, blood leaking between his fingers.
But he didn't swing the blade like everyone expected. He didn't even bother to inspect the violent power radiating off it.
He gripped both ends of the sword—
—and bent.
Crack!
The blade snapped in half at the center.
The force released from the break blasted outward, pressing warped, bending ripples into the surrounding space. Maelor didn't care. He tossed one half aside, then reached up and grabbed the dragon horn that had just regrown on his head.
Another sharp crack.
He tore the full horn straight off.
The broken sword and the horn were immediately wrapped in wind. In the spinning airflow, they drew closer. The broken sword's leaking power flowed along the horn's surface, gradually reshaping it. The horn's sharp tip was pulled longer, while the base fused to the hilt.
In Maelor's hands, a sword made from dragon horn took form.
