The War For The Pallid Throne

The Blades of Kath'le Kal

The Goddess Pragma gifted Excalibur to master Myrddin in his most desperate hour. They say the sword shimmered and sweat, and those who've held the blade talk of how it singed with teeth in the grip. If ever there was a sword that could breathe, Excalibur was it, but, make no mistake, it wasn't a holy blade. The steel was forged in the belly of a god of war, slipping from the throat of the Great Devourer. Listen, Excalibur was left on the bottom of the ocean for a reason, because that is where it belongs.   

19

Icarus looked over the battlefield as his creation collapsed in a heap. He was impressed with his sister. Impressed that she found the little pit at the base of his dragon's neck. He didn't even make it obvious. She was focused and leagues ahead of his younger siblings. Still, Persephone's desperation surprised him. Icarus thought she'd opt for more ranged attacks. Had she used Velbrava's design with quilled maggots killing from within, she'd have done better. Either way, his sister was progressing nicely and would soon rival even Xerxes in his prime.

Cracking the whip, Icarus drove his twin-headed serpent towards the gathering orcas. He could see the way Persephone's hands trembled, and jaw quivered, but she charged all the same.

"Oh, how much you have grown, my dear sister," Icarus said, guiding his creations into the fray to break apart her defensive line.

The younger wyrm struck the ground, knocking the pod into the air and setting the sands ablaze as he circled overhead. That dread harbinger was his first creation back when he shaped clay to impress his mother. She cared not a whit for his designs, no matter how fierce the claws or thick the hide. His mother was ambivalent and unmoved by his passion, and so he started shaping for his satisfaction. When that wasn't enough, he started a war.

That's when he stopped making the twin-headed serpents and the dragons who breathe fire. His siblings were no match for them back then, but now, having watched his sister do what they couldn't all those years ago, they were almost ready. His finest work would soon bear fruit and end the monotony of eternity's hand.

Suddenly, an orca burst from the sands and launched itself high into the air, latching onto his harbinger's leg. Persephone leaped off, rolling onto the serpent's back and digging her claws into its hide. Her eyes spun red, ribs cracked, and bones pierced through her ankle.

"It was you!" she screamed. "You gave Xerxes the design of white fire!"

Icarus laughed, stepping off the dragon's shoulder blade and down towards its spine. "Indirectly, I originally gave the design to one of our sisters," he said, clicking his tongue. "Her imagination was disappointing. But then, Xerxes found it and, oh, how I wished to taste his creation. You took that from me, sister, and I couldn't think of a more poetic justice than this."

"No, it's not over. I can stop you here," Persephone said, a curved spine sliding out of her neck.

"That's right. Imagine how sweet the nectar will taste if you prevail now, on the precipice of defeat. No greater feeling exists, and that's why I'm jealous of you, sister. But not just you. I am jealous of all our siblings who have no cause to hold themselves back."

Icarus drove his hands into his chest, grabbing hold of a slippery hilt and pulling a blade from his ribcage. Deep within his vibriatus grew the condensed deposit of his soul. When the war began, it was little more than a calcified chip, but now it had sharpened into white steel that sang as it nicked his clavicle. The sound was like a silver chime and reminded him of his mother's voice. The pale blades of Kath'le Kal whispered of the wars coming end.