Starlight.

  That was all the Aged One saw in the beginning of their existence.

  They felt the brightness of the joy that filled their heart, their soul, their existence. Time was no concept to understand. They were created to serve a purpose. And that was to avenge. To right the wrongs. The Aged One cried out in joy of its birth, causing a supernova to explode in the galaxy.

  But there was a problem in the aftermath of their celebration. There was a part of them that was not a part of them. A darker self.

  It split from their left arm like an offshoot of a plant.

  The Aged One pulled and scratched at the darker side and realised with horror that the thing upon them was… a Denigration. A being of Ending. Of Death. Of Finality. Of Temperance. Of the Black, the Light’s sibling and mortal enemy. Their mortal enemy.

  It offended the Aged One that this thing was latched on them. And growing on them. They flew away into the cosmos. Tearing their soul, they screamed.

  They screamed for the Light to save them from the thing.

  But the Denigration was persistent.

  They reminded the Aged One of death. Of impermanence. That one day, they would end.

  The Aged One resented that notion. They couldn’t end! They couldn’t. They had so much to give. So much to change. The injustice of Essena lay before them.

  They were created to save the world from itself. But this damned Denigration, it refused to agree.

  This Denigration whispered into the Aged One’s ears about the need for balance. To meter out a fairness. A limit to vengeance.

  The Aged One panicked. They flew fast. Maybe the light speed of their flight would tear the Denigration from their arm. But the Aged One was too focused on the tumour to watch where they were going. A moon lay before them and before the Aged One could react, they and their unwelcome passenger crashed into the moon, causing yet another supernova. Into the meteor that formed from the debris of the explosion.

  The Aged One and the Denigration split in the impact. But the speed of the Aged One caused the two viscous forms to permeate and merge into the metal star stone.

  The explosion shifted the meteor, carrying the two entities and sent them careening through the abyss. Spinning and flying with the speed of a falling star. They sped onwards and onwards and then, with the draw of magic and Essence of the world that humanity resided, the meteor hurtled down, down, down toward the world.

  Burning through the atmosphere, they slammed into the ground, tearing the land around it into two. The crevice formed by their impact would later form one of the main rivers of Dargania, but not for another two hundred years.

  After a day of rest in the ground…a Fey came. One of Nature’s children, formed from the Light’s goodwill.

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  The creature, adorned and born with magic, saw the meteor and smelled the ancient magic that was born from the Light’s will. Using their tools, the Fey hewed the metal from the stone, and in doing so, brought out the Aged One and the Denigration from the meteor. They were not free from the metal.

  And the Fey saw this. The metal was made of two colours and two materials. One was silver and pale like a moonlit pearl. The other was steel and black like obsidian. Sensing the possessed metal, the Fey, who showed themselves as a blacksmith, worked for a year in his forge of fire.

  Wearing his protective gear so that his delicate skin would not be damaged, they came away from the forge with two sabres.

  One of silver and with a beautiful pearl in its hilt.

  The other was steel and shadow-black with a black hilt that beheld no stone.

  During the height of the war, the great war when Aged One and Denigration battled against the forces of Man and Fey, the two swords were kept together.

  A man came upon them and took them into his care. And it was then that the Aged One felt its power unleashed. It had found its master. The Swordsman - named for his possession of the two enchanted blades - named the silver blade, the Aged One, as Alaintiqam of Vengeance. While he called the black blade, the Denigration and Alaintiqam’s unasked twin, as Eadala of Justice.

  Together, the twin swords did battle against the Aged Ones and the Denigrations. Alaintiqam felt joy in dispatching the evil forces of the Denigrations, whilst revering their sorrow for Eadala’s work in dispatching Alaintiqam’s kin.

  But Alaintiqam had a plan. They believed that with the right words… They could guide the Swordsman into creating a better world.

  They killed the enemies of the Swordsman. They butchered those who questioned the Swordsman’s ideals and dreams. They sought to make the Swordsman the greatest hero of all. Worthy of the Light’s majesty. And it was working. It was.

  But Eadala… Eadala, the bane of Alaintiqam’s existence, intervened.

  In one movement, Eadala betrayed Alaintiqam. Alaintiqam was ripped away from the Swordsman and watched in horror as Eadala killed the Swordsman, their master. Alaintiqam swore to kill Eadala by any means.

  But that was useless. For as soon as their great welder died, the power unleashed by his willpower died with him. Alaintiqam and Eadala were reduced back to a dormant state. But not asleep. Never asleep. They were forced to watch the passage of time. Alaintiqam was forced to watch the ungrateful humans and fey push back the Aged Ones and Denigrations from their reality.

  Alaintiqam was stolen off the dead body of his master. As was Eadala. They were taken by a scavenger of the war and sold away.

  Alaintiqam lost sight of his twin as Eadala was taken away from them. They were alone. They were then bartered for coin, traded for clothes, stolen to clear a debt, stolen, and murdered over. They were never held for longer than a week. Alaintiqam was passed around and used with little care nor love. They grew jaded in the hands of murderers and liars. They grew angry in the hands of liars and thieves. They saw the ugliness of the world and the humans that the Light once loved. Alaintiqam saw nothing of worth in them. And they sought their deaths with all their now corrupted soul…

  Then a man of wealth, a foolish man called Malachi came. He bought Alaintiqam out of curiosity about having an ancient weapon from a bygone era. Alaintiqam thought that this would be a man that appreciated the history they held. But the human Malachi did not have the willpower nor the mental aptitude to appreciate the power they had. The human placed them in a wooden barrel with a group of lifeless swords, and they grew dust. Untouched and unloved…

  Alaintiqam resigned themselves to a fate of rust, the greater fear of all weapons, until one fateful day when they felt themselves lifted from the barrel and into the hands of a young man. And with that moment… Alaintiqam felt the jolt of pure willpower from the boy. The boy was called Arcos.

  Alaintiqam did not feel that power for a long time. Not since the Swordsman himself. Alaintiqam rejoiced. They had found their master. Their wielder.

  And Alaintiqam’s dream of a pure world, filled with those worthy of purity, was reborn.

  ~ Fragments of an dead Age’s memories ~