Magic
is the science and art of causing change to occur in conformity with
will. What then is a magic object? It is the will crystallized,
embodied, entrapped in a shell of base physicality. A singular will,
unchanging even as it causes change in conformity with itself.
The will imbued in a magic object must fit its vessel like a hand fits a glove. Disaster follows otherwise. A magic cup holds and pours, a magic map describes a space, and a magic sword kills people.
Among all weapons swords stand apart. An axe can split wood. You can drive nails with a hammer. A scythe can reap grains. A sword though, a sword’s only good for killing people. This clarity of purpose leads to clarity of will in achieving that purpose, and so swords make the most effective magic weapons. The most effective magic swords, those killers above all killers, are not forged from mere matter. A sword brings death, and a true magic sword is made from death.
It might be a cold death, shivering and wheezing in your hands, turning the blood of those it strikes to ice.
It could be a fiery death, the stake of a witch’s pyre whittled into shape, still hot with cinders waiting to burst to ravenous, blazing life.
It might even be a silent death, alone, unheard, forgotten, blackened and shrivelled like an old corpse left unburied, turning away the attention of others even as it cuts them down.
The material vessel does not matter except in that it can inform how the blade might specially inflict more death. A deadly will can make the murk dredged out from the lungs of a drowned body cut better than honed steel.
To make a magic sword like this requires three deaths in total:
The first is the death which forms its vessel. It really only requires the one for this, a murder will serve as well as a massacre.
The second is your own, to bind the will to the blade. It must be quenched in your lifeblood, tempered by the guttering passions of your soul. Most important of all, the last thought to pass through your head must be to wish for the death of someone else. This wish and the intent behind it (be it vengeance or love or whatever else) will shape the powers of the terminal product like the composition of its vessel does.
The third is the death you wished upon another. Once forged, your sword cannot be turned from that final directive. Fate’s warp and weft will be severed in its path. Just a touch more inevitable than the regular sort of death.
This is how you make a magic sword. The undertaking has rarely been worth it.
The will imbued in a magic object must fit its vessel like a hand fits a glove. Disaster follows otherwise. A magic cup holds and pours, a magic map describes a space, and a magic sword kills people.
Among all weapons swords stand apart. An axe can split wood. You can drive nails with a hammer. A scythe can reap grains. A sword though, a sword’s only good for killing people. This clarity of purpose leads to clarity of will in achieving that purpose, and so swords make the most effective magic weapons. The most effective magic swords, those killers above all killers, are not forged from mere matter. A sword brings death, and a true magic sword is made from death.
It might be a cold death, shivering and wheezing in your hands, turning the blood of those it strikes to ice.
It could be a fiery death, the stake of a witch’s pyre whittled into shape, still hot with cinders waiting to burst to ravenous, blazing life.
It might even be a silent death, alone, unheard, forgotten, blackened and shrivelled like an old corpse left unburied, turning away the attention of others even as it cuts them down.
The material vessel does not matter except in that it can inform how the blade might specially inflict more death. A deadly will can make the murk dredged out from the lungs of a drowned body cut better than honed steel.
To make a magic sword like this requires three deaths in total:
The first is the death which forms its vessel. It really only requires the one for this, a murder will serve as well as a massacre.
The second is your own, to bind the will to the blade. It must be quenched in your lifeblood, tempered by the guttering passions of your soul. Most important of all, the last thought to pass through your head must be to wish for the death of someone else. This wish and the intent behind it (be it vengeance or love or whatever else) will shape the powers of the terminal product like the composition of its vessel does.
The third is the death you wished upon another. Once forged, your sword cannot be turned from that final directive. Fate’s warp and weft will be severed in its path. Just a touch more inevitable than the regular sort of death.
This is how you make a magic sword. The undertaking has rarely been worth it.
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