I ignored her as I walked to the remains of Claidheamh an Ùrachaidh. Letting go of her hand – even though I really didn’t want to – I gently picked up the two halves of the sword. I choked as thoughts flooded my mind, feelings that I felt were not entirely my own welled up in me. The once vibrant runes were now inert. The previous magical aura, gone. My hand grazed the hilt, the pummel was blown apart, leaving only shattered metal where Fawke’s heart used to be. Daphne gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze, reminding me she was there, always there for me. Taking a deep breath, I pulled my bag from my grimoire and placed the remains into the bag. Once put away, I shakely said, "let’s go."