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A star once fell from the sky in a far away land. The ruler of that land, a man whose name is lost to time, had his servants search for its resting place and bring a piece to the ruler’s blacksmith so that he might fashion him a blade made from the very material of the stars.

The blacksmith was renowned for his craftsmanship and speed, he had 20 sons and 20 daughters, and a beautiful wife. The blacksmith found that his forge would not melt the metal and fearing for his life, for the ruler of the land was an evil man, he began filing away at the metal both day and night. But the metal was hard and it took many months. At the change of the season the ruler demanded his blade, but discovered that it was not done. At once the ruler took the metal and struck down the blacksmith’s oldest daughter with it. The blacksmith had no time to mourn and he returned to his work.
Night and day for many months he worked, and when the seasons changed the ruler of the land returned and demanded his blade from the blacksmith, but found it was not done. He took the metal and struck down the blacksmith’s oldest son with it. The blacksmith had no time to mourn and he returned to his work.
For many seasons the blacksmith worked and the ruler of the land took the life of one child each season. Until the blacksmith had only one son left and one daughter. When the ruler of the land came again demanded his blade and found it was done. Immediately the ruler of the land took the dagger and cut the throat of the blacksmith, and then his wife, his daughter, and finally his last son.

The ruler of the land bore the dagger into many throats and upon his deathbed he ruled over a much greater portion of land than his father had before him. His son too took the dagger and with it many conquests. His grandson also spread his rule far afield to the sea and the river and the mountains when he came to a village and its temple.

The grandson was a powerful ruler and general of his armies, had besieged and defeated many walled cities and he led his men to take the temple. Upon the very altar of the temple he cut the throat of the high priest, there is a scar in the altar to this day still stained with the blood of the high priest. The general and his men struck down the priests and monks and novices until just one young monk was left hidden beneath the lotus in the pond of the temple garden. He heard the cries of his fellows and his tears so poured into the pool that it became bitter as the waters of the ocean. He hid there for three days and three nights without food and unable to drink the bitter water. Trembling he crept through the halls of the temple stained with the blood of his fellows, the grandson’s armies slept on the mats that the young monk and his fellows had slept in, and the general slept in the bed of the high priest. Next to the generals head was a dagger, black and faceted like a gemstone, it had fallen out of its sheath. The young monk took the dagger and lifted it above his head, at that moment a watchmen cried out, and the general opened his eyes. The young monk plunged the dagger into the general’s heart and the general’s men screamed “phantom!” and “water demon!” for his robes still dripped with water. The soldiers fled into the night and returned to their faraway land.

The village did not know how but they knew the temple had caused the invaders to flee, so they sent their sons and daughters to the temple to become novices, then monks, then priests. The young monk placed the dagger in a box and buried the box deep beneath the temple garden and then planted a tree that would grow great roots so that his secret and the terrible history of the dagger might be hidden forever. And so it was for many years. The young monk became the old high priest and until his last day never spoke a word about the dagger or the night the soldiers fled. Upon his deathbed, alone with the next chosen high priest, and in whispers he told the story, and then immediately expired. And so it was for many generations, with the old high priest telling the young high priest the story and no one else, so that the truth was preserved but that the shame of the temple be kept secret.

After a season, a year, a generation, and a dynasty had come to pass, a novice, a child of the temple, went to meditate in the garden beneath the great tree. As he sat he noticed that near the roots of the great tree was the corner of a box. He dug the box from the roots of the great tree and looked inside. He had never touched a dagger before so he hid the box in his robes. When the novice was alone in a dark room he took the box from his robe and looked inside again. The dagger was so sharp that when he touched the blade he completely severed the end of his finger. His cries were heard throughout the temple and a priest found him and bandaged his wound with herbs and cloth, but he dared not touch a weapon. He came to the high priest and told him of the dark blade he had found at the feet of the child. Immediately the high priest gathered them together, notice, monk, and priest alike and told them the story so that the dagger would not draw another drop of blood because of ignorance or shame.

It was a sacred thing profaned, the taker of many innocent lives, yet through it a town and its temple were saved.
Dagger
A story intended to be told as an oral tradition. Came to me in a vision. Vaguely inspired by recent events and research. 
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xybre
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:icondiasyxy:
diasyXY Featured By Owner Apr 30, 2012
ok, ik u dont know me on the internet, by why haven't u posted or commented in over a full year? or, rather, almost a full year? Sorry, i just had to ask.
Reply
:iconxybre:
xybre Featured By Owner May 2, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Has it been that long? I've been busy, working mostly.
Reply
:icondiasyxy:
diasyXY Featured By Owner May 3, 2012
unfortunately, Yes. It has been that long. Do you want my cell number?
Reply
:iconevil-eric:
Evil-Eric Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2011
you may throw out the first challenge.
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:iconxybre:
xybre Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Mindtoads are crawling on my splinters.
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:iconevil-eric:
Evil-Eric Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2011
really? you want to be a dick about it? fine.
Reply
:iconxybre:
xybre Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
Sorry, I was drunk. It made sense at the time.
I'll read what hell hath wrought now.
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:iconphilipbrunner:
philipbrunner Featured By Owner Apr 27, 2011  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks my friend! :)
Reply
:iconxybre:
xybre Featured By Owner May 1, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome :)
Reply
:iconphilipbrunner:
philipbrunner Featured By Owner May 1, 2011  Hobbyist Photographer
:)
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