Then, Lith activated a Hush zone, a cloaking array, dimensional and elemental sealing arrays.
Orion looked around nervously, years of discipline and battle instincts screaming at him. He was surrounded by mystical defenses and at the mercy of a person he didn’t like. Yet he took a deep breath and relaxed.
“Go ahead. I trust you.” He said to both Lith and himself.
Ragnarök appeared in a burst of emerald flames, its blood scabbard so tight that the elemental crystals on the fuller protruded from it, shining like precious gemstones.
Orion didn’t miss the blade ignoring the dimensional seal nor the fact that it looked a lot like War but it was nothing like it.
“Great Mother almighty! Did you crack my cloaking runes and make a new sword of your own? It’s a feat as insulting as it’s impressing. I guess congratulations are in order.” Orion offered Lith his hand but Lith didn’t move.
“No to both. I didn’t crack anything. War was shattered but not lost so I brought him to Gr- Salaark.” Orion noticed Lith calling the blade like a person but just nodded for him to continue.
“She used her Creation Magic through me, to both use me as a tool and give me a lesson as a Forgemaster. She took away your runes and I provided her with new spells and materials. I used War as a base to create Ragnarök. It’s-”
“Made of Davross instead of Adamant and you’ve followed the pattern of the Saefel Sword after giving it a spin of your own.” Orion cut him short while examining the blade from a distance. “I guess you’ve also found a way to overcome the limit of the pseudo cores I used.
“Judging from the pressure Ragnarök exudes while still sheathed, it must have a power core.”
“A rough one, but you are correct about everything.” Lith nodded. “Gran- The Overlord offered me to reforge it again once my Forgemastery improves. Before that…”
Lith threw a parchment that Orion caught on the fly. Once opened, it revealed the pattern of cloaking runes that Lith and Solus had employed in reforging the blade.
“What does this mean?” Orion asked.
“As I said, the base is your blade. I just improved from it. I couldn’t use your runes only because I don’t know them. If not for Salaark, I wouldn’t have been able to do this. Hence I consider Ragnarök still to be your blade.
“Feel free to look at it with your spells.” Lith replied.
Orion was aware that Lith was doing him a great honor. A Forgemaster sharing his workings with a colleague was the highest form of trust and respect between mages.
He decided to accept that honor and took his Forgemastering wand out of his pocket. The moment the silvery tendril of mana touched the blade, the white crystals on the hilt lit up.
It seemed like the blade was alive and it had opened its eyes after being woken up from its slumber.
“Father.” Ragnarök said upon recognizing the familiar mana and figure of Orion.
“By the gods! It talks!” Orion jumped back in surprise, moving his eyes from Lith to the blade and wondering how could the Overlord of the Blood Desert condone the use of Forbidden Magic.
“He actually always did. Even back when he was just War.” Lith said.
“I can vouch for that.” Raaz said after noticing the disbelief in Orion’s eyes. “The first time I heard that… ‘voice’ it was scary for me as well.”
“Seriously?” Orion asked.
“Yeah. You can ask Quylla, Friya, or Kami if you want. Heck, once War even spoke in front of her colleagues. I doubt they’ve forgotten about that.” Lith said.
Orion asked him to lower the dimensional array and made that call, confirming Lith’s words. It wasn’t due to a matter of trust so much as utter disbelief.
“I did this?” Orion could feel through his spell the fury that had possessed him back when he had forged War still inhabiting the blade.
Yet there was more now. A part of Lith had been planted after he had imprinted the blade and the seed had grown after the use of Creation Magic.
“Father, I’m sorry.” The sheathe near to the white crystals liquified, giving the impression that Ragnarök was crying blood tears. “I failed you. I failed protecting daughter. I failed.”
The sheathe deformed, growing arms from the middle of the scabbard and legs from either side of the tip, taking the form of a perfectly proportioned small blood golem.
Ragnarök’s body had no neck, the white eyes near the top of its chest. The hilt looked more like a sprout growing from the top or a hat.
The laches and locks clicked to form words, the voice filled with pain and guilt.
“Forgive me.” Ragnarök wailed falling on all fours in a kneeling position, the hilt touching the ground. “I’ve changed. I’ve learned. New daughter. I won’t fail again.”
Lith fell on his right knee as well, like the day he had been made Magus.
“I’m sorry too, Orion.” Lith had decided that even though hatred was out of his reach, he could at least deal with his greatest regret. “I failed to bring Phloria back home. She would be still alive if not for me.
“Maybe she would still be enslaved and under Thrud’s thumb, but at least she would still be alive. You would still have hope. My daughter has yet to be born, I haven’t spent a single day with her but I know that if anything happened to her, I’d be devastated.
“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through. I know that words can’t change anything-”
“Shut up!” Orion cut Lith short. “For the gods’ sake shut up. The both of you.”
He started to pace around the room like a caged tiger, feeling grief and rage battling for dominance. The more he moved, the worse he felt. Orion moved to the nearest chair and sat down seconds before losing his mind.
He poured himself a drink that he swallowed in one gulp and then another. At the third one, his nostrils weren’t flaring anymore and he could finally restrain himself to small sips.
When Orion calmed down, he threw a disgusted look at the bottle and his own reflection in the glass.
‘I can’t believe I lost control again.’ He thought. ‘Every time I feel overwhelmed, I resort to alcohol as a crutch. I had promised my Little Flower to stop drinking yet here I am. So much for a father’s word.’
Orion had developed his addiction to liquor back when he was divorcing Jirni but after talking with Phloria, he had quit cold turkey. Until Phloria’s death.
When Jirni had announced him to be pregnant, Orion had quit drinking again and had never strayed from his path. Until that moment.
Orion put the glass down and used a quick healing spell to break down the alcohol and purge it from his body. He was determined to face his demons on his own like a man instead of an addict.
His bladder demanded its due, but it had to wait.
“Stand up, Lith. Stand up, War.” Orion said.
