Rededicating the Promise
In a workshop deep in the Infinite City, Nameless Ravine knelt over The Promise. He dipped a small, coarse stone in water, and with two fingers began gently polishing the surface of the blade, removing a hardened layer of essence residue that marred the blade's surface. He did not look up as Seven Seasons Widow's voice rang out from somewhere in the room.
"It hungers for my blood. I can sense it. It has taken the anima of a one such as me before."
"Good evening, Widow. Yes, it has slain a Deathknight. It did so gladly, and it dreams of the day that it does so again. But I do not think that it would kill you as things stand now."
"And why not?"
Ravine did not answer. He fished through a box of stones until he found one of finer texture. He splashed some more water on the surface of the blade, and resumed polishing. The Widow stepped from the shadows just behind him, and peered over his shoulder. At length, she reached over to touch its metal surface. Ravine gently and slowly caught her wrist and pushed it away.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. The Promise would gladly bite off a few fingers, maybe even a hand."
"You say it would hurt me. But you say it would not kill me. I ask again: why not?"
Nameless Ravine sighed, put the finger-stone back in the box, and wiped the blade clean. "Because, Widow, if it killed you, it would break Rivers' heart. It doesn't want to see that happen."
"Are all of his creations compelled to love him so?"
He held the blade up to the lantern on the wall; the engraved surface caught the light, held it, and projected it out onto the workshop walls. It cast a thousand tiny reflected characters onto both of their faces. The Seven Seasons Widow withdrew a few paces until she was cloaked with shadow once more, and Nameless Ravine put the Promise down upon the workbench.
"I don't know what you think of me, Widow, and that does not bother me. However, I deeply, deeply wish you to know what I think of Rivers."
"I am listening."
"Rivers Between Us does not compel his creations to love him, for can a creature whose love is forced be said to truly love? How can his tools love the world and long to fix it... if they cannot truly love at all? But at the same time, what tool, what man, what woman, what broken world can look at him and watch him give all he has until he is paler yet than even you... who, what, can watch him do this, and not love him for it?
"Rivers is a redeemer. He wishes to take this wounded, fractured, fading age, and wash it clean of sorrows. He wants to fix what is broken, to learn what has been lost, and to safeguard what is threatened. If he were a great worker of sorcery like Larkin Ken was before he was corrupted, he would perform a magnificent ritual and restore the world through sheer force of will, even if it cost him his life... but he can't. So, he does the only thing he can: He builds tools, tools to help rebuild the world. And each time he forges a tool, he imbues it with the same burning wish to redeem the world that he himself struggles with. But he also gives his creations the power to walk their own paths.
"Even this sword. It chooses its friends and its enemies, and while it seeks to vanquish Deathknights, the truth is that it does not wholly approve of me either. It is an oath given form - a promise sculpted in celestial gold - and I am now an oathbreaker. It permitted itself to be marred rather than let me wield it at dawning of the hour of my greatest shame. It has been reforged and returned to my hand, but it does not love me." Ravine raised his hand, revealing the burn marks from the morning's drills. "And yet the blade consents for me to wield it, because it loves Rivers, and Rivers still trusts me.
The Seven Seasons Widow was no longer visible, but Nameless Ravine could still sense her presence in the room. He turned to look at where she had last stood, and concluded: "And for those of us who love him... we see how he feels about you. And if we truly love him, we know that to harm you would be to put a dagger through his heart."
A chill breeze swept through the workshop, and presently Nameless Ravine could no longer tell if the Widow was present. It mattered not if she could hear what he was about to say. He turned to the Promise, and whispered. "He would turn the entirety of Heaven's Mandate into an instrument of her redemption. And by the Sun and Luna, by the Maidens and Dragons, I intend to help him do precisely that."
He took up The Promise once more, and the blade hummed with anticipation and purpose. For the first time since its reforging, it came gladly to his hand.
