The Goddess Pragma gifted Excalibur to master Myrddin in his most desperate hour. They say the sword shimmered and sweat, and those who’ve held the blade talk of how it singed with teeth in the grip. If ever there was a sword that could breathe, Excalibur was it, but, make no mistake, it wasn’t a holy blade. The steel was forged in the belly of a god of war, slipping from the throat of the Great Devourer. Listen, Excalibur was left on the bottom of the ocean for a reason, because that is where it belongs.
Icarus looked over the battlefield as his creation collapsed in a heap. He was impressed with his sister. Impressed that she found the little pit at the base of his dragon’s neck. He didn’t even make it obvious. She was focused and leagues ahead of his younger siblings. Still, Persephone’s desperation surprised him. Icarus thought she’d opt for more ranged attacks. Had she used Velbrava’s design with quilled maggots killing from within, she’d have done better. Either way, his sister was progressing nicely and would soon rival even Xerxes in his prime.
Cracking the whip, Icarus drove his twin-headed serpent towards the gathering orcas. He could see the way Persephone’s hands trembled, and jaw quivered, but she charged all the same.
“Oh, how much you have grown, my dear sister,” Icarus said, guiding his creations into the fray to break apart her defensive line.
The younger wyrm struck the ground, knocking the pod into the air and setting the sands ablaze as he circled overhead. That dread harbinger was his first creation back when he shaped clay to impress his mother. She cared not a whit for his designs, no matter how fierce the claws or thick the hide. His mother was ambivalent and unmoved by his passion, and so he started shaping for his satisfaction. When that wasn’t enough, he started a war.
That’s when he stopped making the twin-headed serpents and the dragons who breathe fire. His siblings were no match for them back then, but now, having watched his sister do what they couldn’t all those years ago, they were almost ready. His finest work would soon bear fruit and end the monotony of eternity’s hand.
Suddenly, an orca burst from the sands and launched itself high into the air, latching onto his harbinger’s leg. Persephone leaped off, rolling onto the serpent’s back and digging her claws into its hide. Her eyes spun red, ribs cracked, and bones pierced through her ankle.
“It was you!” she screamed. “You gave Xerxes the design of white fire!”
Icarus laughed, stepping off the dragon’s shoulder blade and down towards its spine.
“Indirectly, I originally gave the design to one of our sisters,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Her imagination was disappointing. But then, Xerxes found it and, oh, how I wished to taste his creation. You took that from me, sister, and I couldn’t think of a more poetic justice than this.”
“No, it’s not over. I can stop you here,” Persephone said, a curved spine sliding out of her neck.
“That’s right. Imagine how sweet the nectar will taste if you prevail now, on the precipice of defeat. No greater feeling exists, and that’s why I’m jealous of you, sister. But not just you. I am jealous of all our siblings who have no cause to hold themselves back.”
Icarus drove his hands into his chest, grabbing hold of a slippery hilt and pulling a blade from his ribcage. Deep within his vibriatus grew the condensed deposit of his soul. When the war began, it was little more than a calcified chip, but now it had sharpened into white steel that sang as it nicked his clavicle. The sound was like a silver chime and reminded him of his mother’s voice. The pale blades of Kath’le Kal whispered of the wars coming end.
“Let’s finish this the old way,” Icarus said as the hilt quivered, teeth digging into his wrist and locking in place.
Persephone hissed, a second spine ripping from the center of her back and curving just over her heads. At the tip of that chitinous tail was her blade curved, white, and immaculate. The steel sang as she twisted it in the air.
She was the first to strike, screaming as she launched towards him, blade poised right at the nape of his neck. Icarus waited for the tip to graze his throat before jerking away and kicking her in the ribs. She fell against the harbinger’s spine, gasping for air as he leaped above her head and drove the
blade down towards her chest. Persephone rolled away just as the steel sunk into the dragon’s back. The tissue shook violently as the twin-headed serpent roared, climbing into the air, the wind whipping past their cheeks.
Then, the wyrm veered sharply, and Persephone lost her footing, slipping down the creature’s back until her claws dug into the tissue. Icarus hung by the hilt of his sword, still lodged in its back. He hissed, pushing his feet against the dragon’s spine, and tearing the blade free, dropping on top of her. She swung her spirit of Rage, white blade jabbing towards his neck once more, but Icarus twisted to the side, steel grazing steel in a flash of yellow sparks.
Clang!
The blades kissed as the dragon righted itself once more; the engineers back on their feet and charging forward.
Clang!
Icarus’s hands shook, steel vibrating and turning red hot with each strike. His sister jabbed, again and again, tail swinging wildly at his left and right flank.
Clang!
Persephone’s white needle zipped past his cheek, drawing blood as he rounded on her, bringing his blade up towards her belly. She jumped away, slamming her tail into the dragon’s hide, and launching herself forward.
Clang, clang!
Two more strikes and her steel punctured his shoulder. Icarus cried out, grabbing her tail, and pulling her close before cutting one of her heads off. Persephone pulled her blade free as she rolled away, blood spilling from one of her necks, the severed head still gasping for air. She was quick to gather her spirit, quick to jump back on her feet and lunge forward.
Clang!
Again, the blades kissed, and he pushed hard against her steel, metal squealing in protest as his hand shook and muscle fibers bulged through the open wound in his arm. Then, the wyrm veered left, and they fell to the side, rolling along its belly. Icarus grabbed hold of a jagged spike near the creature’s wing, the momentum dislocating his shoulder. Persephone brushed past him, latching onto his thigh and teeth puncturing his ankle. Then, in a whipping motion, she brought her blade down on his back, chipping his spine. Icarus screamed, letting go of the spike and plummeting through the air.
Together, the engineers spun around like a corkscrew; the ground rushing up to meet them. Persephone tried to flip over, but Icarus ground his foot into her neck and drove his blade through her chest. She squirmed, tail slashing at his stomach, and punctured his right flank, poking a hole in his liver. Icarus pushed her away, rolling around in the wind until he struck the sands. The granules felt like shards of glass, cutting his hide, and breaking his femur as he bit through his tongue.
Gasping for air, Icarus rolled onto his side, digging his blade into the dirt like a cane, knees trembling. He looked out over the plains as his sister, too, returned to her feet. Persephone was panting, sweat and blood across her brow, ribs sticking through her chest, a gaping hole in her shoulder, and fingers and toes bent sideways. She was physically broken, but there was a fire in her eyes, a raging blaze that gave even his spirit goosebumps.
Never had he seen anything more beautiful.
“Look at you, sister,” Icarus coughed up blood, blade hand trembling. “May I have this dance?”
Persephone grit her teeth, limping forward with her blade quivering as Icarus raised his steel, flashing like a distant star. Then, a roar shook the ground. Icarus’s dragon, the one he had left behind to consume the rest of his sister's pod, broke through the dunes and knocked her into the dirt.
“No!” Icarus screamed, looking for the whip between his fingers.
The luminescent threads were gone, having slipped out in his descent.
With an earsplitting scream, the wyrm savaged Persephone, her guts spilling into the sands as she struggled helplessly beneath its weight.
“Not like this!”
The adrenaline sacks beneath his thyroid emptied to the last drop as he charged through the sands and struck the wyrm’s neck, knocking it into the dunes. The dragon hissed, spitting white fire scorching his hand when he drove the blade of Kath’le Kal into its eye. There was a squeal, a piercing cry as he twisted the steel deep, and the creature shuddered, drawing its last breath. The white metal unmade the wyrm, turning it into brown fluid and washing it beneath the sands.
Icarus turned back towards his sister, dragging the blade behind him before collapsing to his knees. Persephone quivered, blood flowing from the open cavity in her belly and tail still, unable to lift her sword. She looked up at him, coughing up blood, the blaze in her eyes sputtering into soft coals as she yawned, fingers shaking.
“Why are you so afraid, sister?” Icarus asked, touching her cheek.
“Mother,” she said. “Won’t let me wake. Lost in the dark forever.”
Icarus clenched his fists, knuckles turning white.
“I won’t let her have you for long. I promise you, when the next war begins, you will be the first I wake. On this, I swear for the debt I owe.”
Persephone’s eyes turned white as her fingers grew still. “What,” she sputtered. “What does it taste like again? I’ve forgotten.”
Icarus lifted his blade and drove it into her primary skull, her body convulsing one last time. “It tastes like lime,” he said, breaking his sword at the hilt and tossing the squealing handle into the dunes. “It tastes like lime and iron.”