Eight mages crafted a gem,

So fine, so deep,

An enigma protected inside its keep.

No one knew their names,

No one knew their identities,

Only the jewel they crafted with sincerity.

Millennia their legacy lasted,

Millennia their stone cursed and blessed.

One blacksmith forged a sword,

So strong, so fair,

So simple yet with flair.

A silvery blade of glory,

A proud symbol of power,

A weapon so oft compared to a crimson deathly flower.

The stone laid in its center chamber,

Like fossils encased in an age-old amber.

The times went by,

Kingdoms rose and fell,

The old tale no one left to retell.

The sword grew in maturity,

The stone ached in thirst,

Corrupting all that was unworthy, inflicting the unfortunate curse.

Where was the chosen it desired?

Where was the vessel it could retire?

A battlefield of chaos,

A chance of fate,

And the stone found itself buried near a lake.

Although without a user,

The sword decayed not,

Hidden, protected, refusing to rot.

Defeat was not the end,

But to Fate it must depend.

The air breathed cool,

The birds with their whistle,

As the sword and stone found themselves exposed just a little.

The ground eroded,

The hands dug,

As three girls found the relic in a heap of mud.

Alive again, it continued its course,

Ready to make one its vessel, its corpse.

Its name forgotten,

Its history lost in lore,

'Twas called “Anapa”, a sword and nothing more.

Its chosen were three,

But then was one,

As two were slaughtered, departed and gone.

The stone loved its vessel,

A broken child becoming a devil.

The stone adored the child,

The child loved the stone,

Together, united as one, they were never alone.

The thirst for power,

The lust and greed,

Driving them forth, the fear they feed.

An empire they built, fed by their souls,

Millennia of effort, culminated in whole.

Eight mages crafted a gem,

A blacksmith forged a sword,

But a child found it and made it the world’s lord.

An absorption of eight,

A unity between two,

Creating a legend, an epic not known by few.

The child, the Queen began an era,

As the sword was promptly renamed… Anapadeia.