Moonfire & Midnight

Eirian's blooding blade named itself Ardain. Some made up thing inspired by the word ardent and an ancient people that had lived in the red lands far to the East thousands of years ago.

It was a long, slim blade, smaller than most falchion, and bore a basket hilt of gold and ruby that looked like the flames of Eirian's magic when it rose.

Eirian had folded the steel blade herself when she was thirteen and had first heard of the elusive blades. Her father hadn't been pleased, but back then, he'd spent more time with his drink than her, and she'd finished it by the time he found out. It had taken her months, first to learn how to forge the sword and then to do it correctly.

The poor blacksmith she'd paid had contemplated retirement a few times when Eirian's annoyance at her own lack of skill couldn't be contained.

But she had finished it. The blade was a mere two inches across by the time she'd folded the steel a thousand times and so sharp it had cut a blade of grass that had fallen on it in half.

It had a three-foot reach and weighed a good ten pounds, but to Eirian, it was light as a feather. She'd been so excited to finish it that she'd ignored her father's demands to stay in the city and gone out with a guard patrol to track down a group of bandits preying on travelers along one of the lesser roads to Aontacht.

She took down five of the twenty herself, bathing the still-cooling blade in their blood until it gleamed like a ruby in the sunlight.

But it hadn't started to sing until she'd been approaching the hundredth.

Blooding blades were ancient magic from when the children of Arrawn first left the World of the Dead for the World of the Living. They'd brought with them blades that had taken so many lives they'd become sentient.

Not quite magical weapons, but not something just anyone could carry either. They were known for driving lesser minds mad, even taking complete control on a few storied occasions.

Ye Chenzhou's blooding blade was named Huaban. A delicate blade with falling camelia petals falling down it and a ruby and leather hilt. The blade had been a gift for his first birthday that he hadn't actually gotten to touch until his sixth when he was big enough and coordinated enough to pick it up without hurting himself. His parents had been dead by then, and his training with it had been overseen by Henry Colfax, husband of Marian, who had served as Chenzhou's chief tutor until he was a teenager.

It had taken three years for Huaban to become a blooding blade, when Chenzhou was eighteen and just finished leading his first campaign against the border tribes. A few of his generals had wanted to host a festival to celebrate, but Chenzhou couldn't justify the cost and he didn't particularly think killing a hundred people was something to celebrate.

Huaban didn't speak, not even as she'd grown stronger through the battles that had followed, but she did whisper. A rush of wind that only Chenzhou could hear. She warned him of danger, of threats in his blind spot, but she couldn't do anything about the illness that plagued him.

She exacerbated it, a few healers believed, advising him to melt the blade down until she was silenced.

Chenzhou couldn't quite bring himself to destroy it yet. Especially since neither Yuze nor Anna believed the blade had that kind of power.

Huaban was also the sister blade to Qiang Ye, Yuze's blooding blade.

Yuze's blade was a traditional nandao blade with leaves engraved on the blade with a hilt of bamboo carved into the shape of closed leaves. He'd inherited the beautiful sword from his master when he was sixteen and it had taken until he was twenty for it to become a blooding blade.

His master, despite being one of the greatest swordsmen of his generation, had been a sort of pacifist. He fought but didn't kill, as such the blade had never been more than blade in the fifty years he'd born it.

Yuze, while he'd learned his teacher's skills, did not share his philosophy, but he was a lineman in the army. His work as a spy didn't often result in bloodshed, unless his mission went straight to hell, so it had taken much longer to get the hundred required.

And like Chenzhou, he didn't see it as something to celebrate. Qiang Ye was also much more vocal than Huaban, often filling Yuze's mind with constant chatter.

Chenzhou had always found that fact amusing, given that Yuze was known for his silence.

It was rare to have so many blooding blades in one place. Only one in a thousand blades developed into one and the general practice of attempting to create one had fallen from favor when the Age of Constant Warfare had ended. They were seen as a bit more gruesome than was acceptable by good people, but among the warrior classes they were still seen with some reverence.

But the blades themselves were possessive, territorial, and often sparked bloody conflict when brought into contact with one another.

They couldn't have started the poisoning that grew into the miasma, but they could exacerbate it, Eirian realized.

In her room, she dug out the sealed elmwood she'd hidden Ardain in and slipped her magic into the lock. Sealed elmwood boxes were inlaid with magic and Eirian had made her own that only she could open. Her magic was the only way to turn the lock.

Ardain sang as she tasted fresh air, the smell of smoke and tinder filled the air, and Eirian felt her own blood sing as her magic rose.

~ tbc