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A dagger. The inspiration came to her after watching some of the women in Paradise sparring with some swords. She pictured herself in a combat scenario. If she hadn't her spells she was useless. The attack on Paradise was more than enough to make her think that she needed to do more.
She stood in her workshop. It was much better than what she had started with but it still needed work. She rubbed her hands together to warm them in the cool morning. It would not take long for the summer heat to come but it was early and she was restless.
She thought about how much she hated the elves as she prepared her tools. The forge was lit and she was already feeding anathema into the forge. She wanted to make a powerful weapon that was stronger than anything she ever made. She would not be completely helpless ever again.
The dagger she would make was of steel. Regular, plain old steel. She could not get anything better delivered out here so it would have to do. She had to make her own by tossing in the ingredients gingerly. She mixed them to make the formula she had come to be very familiar with.
A knock came at the door but she ignored it. She had told people not to bother her. A sign even said as much. Do not disturb. But that sign was always there.
It was always mother this, mother that. She pushed them from her thoughts. With the steel ready, she started shaping it into the correct shape all while sacrificing her blood to the forge. She knew whatever she made was going to be magnificent but she wanted it to be the best weapon ever made. She tired herself out after just an hour of feeding anathema into her craft.
She was not even close to being done. She knew now that she would be spending most of her summer working on this single weapon.
She molds the darkened shade
Shadows twist a bladed braid
Steel-like edge from nothing drawn
Forged in silence born at dawn
Her hands they shake with fury's might
Rage ignites she ends the night
The shadow blade once fierce and bold
Shattered now her anger cold
Abraia worked tirelessly for two days. Barely any sleep was to be had. She held the dagger in her hand that she carefully crafted from steel replicated by shadows. But still it was not enough to achieve her goal. She thrust the dagger to the ground. In a fit of rage she disassembled it using the powers of anathema that course through her veins.
The dagger shattered into dust. Strangely, it was anathemite. She had not thought such a thing was possible, yet the dust on the ground was surely that. She was skilled enough at ensorcelling to know alkahest when she saw it.
She walked over and scooped the dust into a container. She needed to make more. She WOULD make more.
