Hana knew she made a mistake from the moment she drew the sword from the cloth sack. The cave was dark and then it wasn’t. That was the blade’s doing. It shone with the glow of a dozen suns. But not the happy sun that rose above Riti Peak every morning, that bathed her tranquil valley with light even in the winter months. No, the sword’s light was red in quality and in emotion. Hana felt her hand pulse as she gripped the hilt, like the weapon had a heart of its own. But that was stupid. Swords weren’t alive, they didn’t have hearts or minds or souls.


    Later that night, after Hana had stashed the sword away in the sack under her bed, she considered the peculiar adventure into the cave for a moment before drifting off to sleep. Tomorrow she would seek out the village elder. He would know what to make of the weapon because he knew many things about many weapons.


    But sleep never came. Instead, it was more like a waking dream. The sword was there, but so was a boy. He looked to be a few years older than Hana, but she couldn’t be sure, as she never saw his face. When she awoke the next morning, she felt completely drained, like she had been up all night.


    She downed her morning porridge and ran out the door, the sword secured in its sack and tied around her back. The Elder considered the blade for a moment before shooing her out of the meeting hall.


    And that was the last Hana thought about it.


    Until four years later, when she was summoned to the hall. In just a few days time, she was to undergo her Trial, the rite of passage every child of the Arris Valley was expected to complete, in one manner or another. Because those of the Valley knew there were many ways to contribute, not only physical prowess, but also craftsmanship, husbandry, and farming. They had little need of the outside world, save for the Merchants, who traveled beyond the mountains once a season to trade goods and bring morsels of news. This is how it had always been, ever since the Founding, hundreds of years ago.


    The Elder sat in the middle of the table on the dais, along with a representative of each Discipline. Hana was slightly confused, as her Trial was not permitted to begin even a second before the clock struck midnight on her 18th birthday.


    “Hana.”


    He spoke her name with a note of resignation and sorrow, as if he was not about to proceed over one of the most important days of her life.


    “Yes, Elder? Is my Trial going to begin early? I thought that wasn’t allowed.”


    “No,” he said. “And there will be no Trial, I’m afraid.”


    “I don’t understand,” said Hana. “Everyone must complete their Trial. Even in failure we learn our true Calling, to serve the Valley. If I cannot complete my Trial, then...”


    She didn’t want to say it out loud. There was always a couple of kids every so often who refused the strict lifestyle demanded of those who made their home here. They were given a month’s provisions on what would have been the day of their Trial, and were escorted up to the Pass, never to return to the Valley again.


    “... you must leave the Valley,” said the Swordsmaiden. She had trained Hana ever since she was strong enough to lift one of the wooden practice blades.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    “Immediately,” said the Blacksmith. He has crafted Hana her first weapon: a small dagger, good for both combat and for skinning game. And she had become his youngest apprentice ever at just 11 years old, which seemed like a lifetime ago.


    “I don’t understand,” said Hana, tears welling up in her eyes.


    “You discovered the Bane,” said the Sower. She managed the Valley’s fields and worked with Hana’s mother. The two had been childhood friends.


    “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


    “The sword. From the cave,” said the Elder. “We have studied it. We have studied the Scrolls of Founding. It is as they have described.”


    “That was four years ago! What have you been doing this whole time?”


    She felt the rage build up from inside. Her entire life, which she had so perfectly pictured, was falling apart within seconds. She would join the Guard or the Tillers for a spell before taking over the Smith’s shop. She would pair with the Sower’s oldest, Leras. They had already kissed on more than one occasion. Behind the old red barn. It was a good match, and their offspring would be hearty citizens of the Valley.


    Finally her anger reached a crescendo, and she let out a primal scream. And as she did, the blade’s metal shone to meet her, a crimson red to match her fire.


    Hana clapped her hand over her mouth, unsure of what she had done. Deep down though, she knew that everything was about to change.


    “You see now, don’t you?” asked the Elder, quietly, and Hana nodded. “We were tasked with keeping the Bane a secret, our village founded on that principle. Everything we have ever done here was in service of that mission. And were anyone ever to come try to claim it, we would spill their blood without a second thought. For any price would be worth paying to ensure that the sword remains hidden.”


    “But now?”


    Hana didn’t want to ask what was so horrible about this sword that her entire village had been created because of it. She didn’t want to think of what would happen now that she had extinguished its purpose. She didn’t want to be the Bane of her home. And that was why, she realized, she needed to leave and never return.


    “Now you must go,” said the Swordsmaiden.


    “OK,” said Hana.


    “And you must take the Bane with you,” said the Sower.


    “Wait, what? Why am I to take it? You can just put it back in the cave. I won’t tell anyone.”


    “I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” said the Smith. “The blade is now awake. It won’t be long now before someone comes for it.”


    “I’m so confused. Whose sword is that?”


    The men and women stared at each other, before the Elder finally nodded.


    “Some call her the Scourge of the Continent,” said the Sower. “Others, the Red Death. But we know her true name. Lyrazesque, Demoness of the North. Holder of the sword that bears her name. With that blade, she smashed the armies of the Great Cities, before staking claim to the Seat of Ayre.”


    “Wait,” said Hana. “You mean the tales we were told as whelps around the fire about the Demon Wars, they were…?


    “It’s true. All of it,” said the Elder. “And after her conquest, she turned over the sword to the kingdoms of men, to hide it from her.”


    “But why?”


    “That we were never told,” said the Smith. “The Founders weren’t supposed to survive. After they returned from hiding the blade, their escorts were to have killed them and then themselves, so that the sword would have been truly hidden.”


    “Obviously, the gods had a different fate in mind,” said the Sower. “Because before the deed could be done, a bolt of lightning descended from the heavens and killed the escorts. The Founders entered into the Pact the next day, and our village was born.”


    “And now?”


    Hana didn’t have to think hard to figure out that her home, founded on a secret purpose, would likely collapse once that purpose was gone.


    “That is unknown,” said the Elder. “But enough talk, for now. We need to get you ready.”


    “For what?”


    “For your journey,” said the Swordsmaiden. “Now that the Bane is yours to bear, you must finish what the Hero That Failed could not do.”


    “You cannot mean…”


    The Elder nodded his head slowly, a defeated look on his face, and Hana felt her body start to rebel.


    “You must destroy the blade once and for all.”


    Hana fainted.