The Fall 1

    “There is a tale of the Triality, a blade holy and unholy. Its wielder, the Traitorous Arden, is one who only endures in legend. She is the one responsible for many acts against Sanctuary and her Children. Being of the Szene clan negates our actions against her. We can only watch as the towering Citadel comes crashing down from her might...”

--Parable from A Sanctuarian History

    Winds gusted along the paved streets, the entire expanse silent in the waking moonlight. Magical turrets lined the walls over head and gazed down at the inhabitants below with a sense of scorn. The night air chilled the denizens to the bone. A torrent of snow bellowed from the clouds above, the perpetual night caused by the storm warranted change from within the mighty structure still visible despite the diamond dust.

   This can't be right... A girl, no more than a few years into her young adult life, clutched her cloak desperately for protection against the ferocious winds. Today the predictions from the Mother spoke of the blizzard being only marginally lenient, today its not following anything like that.

    Even beneath the hood of her cloak, her bright scarlet hair danced with the wind. She grimaced and faced the blizzard. Ducking into a nearby hut, she found some refuge from the gusts plaguing the outside.

    A smith's hammer dully rang as it clashed against steel. The metalwork appeared to be near completion, his own expression appearing to be filled with sorrow. Tears fell from his cheeks and the metal hissed as they fell. She slowly removed her hood.

    “Ah...Arden. I wasn't expecting you for some time now.” His voice, almost stiff to the point of being just risen from the dead, came to her like a parent to a child. “I see you're stubborn as ever to be out there in the cold like that.”

    “The cold couldn't stop me even if it tried.” Indignantly she crossed her arms underneath her bust. “So how goes it?”

    He appeared to not hear her. Instead the hammer struck the steel, the ringing seeming somber in its tone. Slowly she took her place on a bench near the coals. The silhouette of the blacksmith appeared to rise from its place as the bellows blew forth air to the coals.

    “...I'm guessing not very well.”

    Again, he remained silent.

    “...Where is the Soul Cube? I heard from Accalia you took it to use for this new sword. I ordered it just for my meeting with the Sanguine Overlord, you don't have to do anything fancy.”

    “This blade you can keep. You don't owe me any time of service.” As he spoke, she blinked in surprise. Sharp teeth could be seen protruding from his mouth. She shook her head in dismay, but remained calm. Despite the urges to take one of the other swords from the other side of the hut to destroy him, she merely tapped her fingers along the side of her arm.

    “...I see you've been indulging yourself in something you shouldn't have.” Her azure gaze tore through him. He merely shrugged in response. “...I guess we all have to fall at some point, right?”

    “Some of us quicker than others.” Now he raised his right hand over the sword, diamond dust washing over the finishing touches of the blade. Along the blunt edge, a small silver line could be seen rushing off from the metal. He blinked away a few more tears which burned into the blade. A wave of his hand caused a brilliant light to shine from within the sword and it began to raise itself from its perch along the smithy. Instantly the edge shone brilliantly in the dimmed hut. Slowly he raised his hand to prick his finger at the tip, his blood rushing from his digit along the edge to the hilt.

    Arden's eyes widened and she stood upright. Carefully she reached for the grip of the sword.

    “...This blade was born of a holy act. My lover...before she died, learned of my plan to use myself as the harbor for the magic to be imbued in the blade and gave her life in my stead. So...for the first time, a vampire seems to have done some good in this world. The first weapon to smite evil has been born from my unholy hands.” Finally, the smith smiled toothily to Arden, who couldn't help but return the favor. “...This will aid you well in your endeavor with the Sanguine Overlord.”

    “...Ovelia doesn't wish to see me. She usually scorns the very thought of me, but for some reason...she's making an exception.” Arden focused onto the edge now, her hands carefully taking the grip. Her eyes widened as she held it aloft.

    “Give it a swing...but not at me.” The smith took a moment to take a step back. Her muscular arms bulged with strength and she sliced at the air. Bright azure flames danced in the empty expanse and bounced off the magical skin of the hut. Her smile began to widen with each swing, a sinister glimmer taking shape from deep within her subconscious.

    “Here, a scabbard for the blade. I had Accalia bless it when I went by.” Arden's visage contorted for an instant at the mention of the name performing a deed. Slowly she sheathed the sword, the blaze becoming quenched from the mystical scarlet leather scabbard. She carefully fashioned the scabbard along the waist of her belt and smiled to the vampire once more.

    “I can't thank you enough, Valtieri...but I have one question.”

    “What is it?”

    “Why help a Szene? The vampires all across Sanctuary despise us for obvious reasons.”

    A pause ensued, the glowing black within the bright golden eyes fixated onto her neck for a mere instant. Instead he shrugged.

     “Sometimes the enemy is the one who needs your aid the most...”