The Serpent and the Lotus Blooms

A Promising Swordsman Has Risen in the East

(TW: abuse, gaslighting)

(These next three chapters are very hard hitting. Please watch for all trigger warnings involved, as even I have a hard time rereading them for editing. Saalah holds some very dark parts of my life. Please read with caution.)

(Saalah's Past)

“Saalah, stop being so selfish.”

“Think of the orphanage, Saalah. This will finally clear your debt. It will be good for everyone.”

“Why are you always so stubborn? It’s just a marriage! Saalah? Saalah!”

No. No, no, no, NO! Saalah’s breaths came in harsh gasps, a stitch forming in his side as he zigzagged through the treacherous forests in the planes of Hel. His caretaker’s words were buzzing incessantly in his mind even as the shouts of bounty hunters echoed from somewhere behind him. How could he have known? How could he have known that being accepted by a damn sword would land him in such circumstances? 

    At first, there had simply been celebration and awe. Saalah had been born to a low caste family and had been given up for adoption at a very young age in the demonic realms known as Hel. Once old enough, He began working as a servant to a middle class family to provide what he could to his caretakers and the younger demons in the center's care. Many were adopted out year after year. Only Saalah remained due to the general disgust surrounding his species and his often stern looking face. And so the task fell to him to help provide for the shelter that provided for him. Always. In every way his caretakers demanded. When he first became a servant, he would sneak glimpses of the private lessons taught to the young master of the house, and in secret he began to teach himself with either a stick or any similar item on hand. He managed to hide away a little money at a time until he could afford a small sword. It was nothing special, but to him it meant everything. Afterwards, when he had time off, which was not often, he went off into the forest to fight beasts and duel with wandering spirits, honing his skills. 

Years passed like this, as a young boy budded to a fresh faced teen and then bloomed to a young man of 18, his coming of age celebration being passed over, as he anticipated. While in the mortal world, one would be considered an adult at such an age, and would be sent off to face the world, demons were immortal, and thus he remained under the custody of his caretakers until he could provide for himself or someone else took him in. Being that all his earnings went directly to his caretakers, and he had remained unfavorable in the eyes of those who sought to adopt, there seemed to be no plausible end in sight. 

However, one evening, he heard a rumor that nearby a cave holding a legendary sword called Vadin had unsealed itself. The sword had felt the call of a new master, and many swordsmen of Hel were coming from near and far to see if Vadin would deem them worthy. Saalah, out of curiosity, snuck a book from the young master’s library, reading what he could on this mysterious sword inbetween his tasks. 

It was said that on the hand guard there was carved a mouth full of sharp pointed teeth. This mouth, if its bearer had a strong heart and mind, would speak words of valor and victory to its chosen warrior, casting a spell around them that would increase the swordsman’s strength and swiftness. It would also spout words of failure and misery to the opponent, causing them to falter in their steps and weakening their resolve. But, if the wielder of this powerful sword was weak of heart and mind, the positions would be reversed, and Vadin would turn against its master and eventually drive them insane with its incessant whispering of their failings. 

With nothing to lose, Saalah found himself making the trip to this cave in lieu of the shopping he was meant to be doing. The entrance was buzzing with foreign warriors from all over, trying their hand at collecting the sword. Whispers filled the air as this young man, barely of age, stepped into the cave, looking out of place in his plain, worn clothes surrounded by warriors and lords in regal attire. Saalah’s eyes fell on this ornate sword, propped on the altar of stone, surrounded by candles that never burned out and glistening jewels. Where others had hesitated in reaching out, Saalah did not. His calloused hands wrapped around the hilt and sheath, and in one swift, fluid movement, he drew that legendary sword, and in that moment, the voice of Vadin boomed through the cave, echoing through all the halls and out to those waiting still at the entrance.