This is the next blade of the prophecy listed in [link]
This is Undine’s Tears
: The Tempest Blade. Borne by a mortal woman who is the offspring of a Marid Water Spirt and a Djinn Air Spirit, she is an outcast of both clans and exiled. Shunned as well by humans, her kind is considered to be cursed, as the power of both parents war within her, causing any attempt to harness it to result in a chaotic storm of devastation. As an outcast, the oceans and streams rejected her making her unable to enter their domain for any length of time, and the land, her parents mortal foe, burned her skin on contact, like hot coals.
The sword is inhabited by the spirit of an undine, a creature similar to a mermaid, from which the tale of The Mermaid Princess receives it’s inspiration. Able to transform into a human woman, as long as her husband remained faithful to her, she soon became cursed when his eye fell upon another. The sword was to be the means of her return to the ocean, crafted by her sisters, but when it pierced her husband’s heart, she chose instead to forsake mortal life and dwell forever within the blade rather than live without him. Now, centuries later, she has found a kindred spirit in sorrow and used her power to confound the elements so that the woman may enter and travel through the oceans like an undine, as well as removing the pain of land from her. Both woman and sword have grown to love one another through their bonding, and parting them causes a severe melancholy to fall upon both.
I’ve shown the sword with the pommel blade extended, but normally the blade is retracted into the hilt.The scant warmth of the fire did little to drive the ocean’s chill from the night air as she huddled closer to the amber flames. It was only another of a thousand small reminders of her curse after all. A damp cave, close to the seaside, a worn blanket, more holes than weave it seemed, and a small battered pot, blackened and dented with age, were her only possessions, the only concessions she reminded herself bitterly, that the village nearby allowed her. They called her a tempest child, waif of the storms, an unwanted offspring of the Spirit race. Half the blood of a Marid, half the blood of a Djinn, and with no knowledge of which parent was which, she only remembered the pain of her separation from the sea. Cast out upon the shores by the waves, she felt the burning for the first time as the land rejected her intrusion and stung her skin like a million wasps. Only the touch of the sea soothed her limbs, but so soon after immersion, the waters would reject her again, throwing her back onto the coals of the land. Her body became cold and the ache dulled over time, until only the power of her blood still felt heat, but each time she focused on her inheritance, the magics unleashed brought nothing but chaos and destruction.
So consumed she was by the cold and her shivering that she felt, that she never noticed the stranger until he was right on top of her. Startled, she drew back scrabbling crablike in the sands in panic. The wind seemed to barely touch the stranger’s cloak, the black folds hanging in a dark shroud around him, concealing his form, just as the hood and hem concealed his face, all save for his eyes, a startling grey in color. A voice, tinged with bitter sadness echoed from the depths of the cowl.
“Weary now, as night draws nigh, with no place at which to lie. Please to share thy fire’s flare, let Puck rest limbs with aching sigh?” She looked up at the figure, puzzled and confused. No one spoke to her. Of her, yes, cursed her existence, often, but never a spoken word towards her. Slowly, she nodded, and the figure knelt across from her, bending knee in a fluidity that mocked mortal grace. As he sat, the hilts of two swords briefly surfaced from his cloak as he moved them to rest on either side of his hip. The sight of the weapons made her flinch once more, barely a reaction, yet still the stranger took notice and covered their once more. Thin fingered hands were held out to the flames for a moment before the figure looked at her again. “Never Puck does wish to pry, still he wonders how and why. A lonely night, an unkind bed, no village home to rest your head?”
“I…” her voice cracked from disused and she swallowed once before continuing. “I am a Tempest Child, outcast, unwanted.” She uttered hollowly. Her eyes were downcast, staring into the hated sand, so she didn’t see his hand reach out until it touched hers and she felt the tingle of energy at his touch.
“Father, mother, cast away, still their magics in you stay, land does burn, to waters yearn, yet the seas, your presence spurns.” Puck’s voice still kept its mournful tone, yet for the first time, she heard compassion from another in his words. Slowly, his hand moved to one of the swords at his waist, unbuckling the weapon and laying the blade on the sand between them. “Undine’s Tear’s this blade is called, a voice within is sadly walled. A woman’s love, from sea to land, let her take a human’s hand. A seaborn bride to take as wife, her tale did sadly end in strife. The human husband dared to bed, another woman than he wed. Cursed from sea, and bound to land, much as you, I understand. And so she lives within the blade, bound by the vows her sisters made. If mortal man betrayed his mate, its rainbow blade would be his fate. Yet heart would still his love to yearn, so to the blade she did return. No more the sea, no more the land, only the sword within the hand. Racked through the days with guilt and sorrows, before and now, and all tomorrows. But if you take her soul to yours, perhaps a path now lay in store. Perhaps both you and she as well, may find your peace, the tale will tell.”
“You..want.. me to have this?” she asked hesitantly, she had never been given anything, let alone something as peculiar as a sword. She almost refused the gift, why would she need one more item that would draw attention and possible violence to her? Yet still, it’s hilt was like a siren’s call to her and she reached for the weapon, her fingers closing cautiously around it. A faint throbbing, not through the hand, but in her mind, a fearful questing tendril of thought touched her conscious, she felt it taste her pain and recoil for the briefest of instances before joining with her. The weapon twisted and writhed in her hand, and she almost dropped it in panic, but the feeling within her was so soothing. The steel of the blade warped, becoming the mottled rainbow sparkle of an impossibly long abalone shell, razor sharp and stunningly beautiful, the guard growing and morphing into a trident head design of the undersea creatures. So enchanted with the design of her new friend, she didn’t notice for several minutes that the sands around her no longer burned her skin at the touch, and she marveled at the feel of the wet sand between her toes. A playful laugh of emotion ran through her head as her new friend swept away the burn of the land from her limbs, nestling within her mind contently.
“Undine’s Tears, no longer shed, a sister found, a pairing crowned, Undine’s Joy a better name instead.” Puck voiced approvingly. “Mind the hilt, for as the sea, it also holds a mystery. A hidden secret lies in wait, for those whose hands you need abate.” She looked down at the sword’s hilt as a thin sharp sliver of shell slid out from the pommel for a moment before retracting, like a manta ray’s stinger into its tail. The undine mind interrupted her thoughts for a moment, bring the desires of the waves and the ocean, it wanted to go swimming. She looked longingly at the waters and her heart sank. Doing her best to summon a feeling that would express her regrets, she pushed the thought outward. The undine retreated for a moment, confused, then came back with a happy elation. She felt a slight itching on her legs, and she quickly looked down at them , fearful that the sands once more had begun their fires, but instead, she watched in wonder as small, overlapping iridescent scales began to cover her skin in a flexible, supple armor. Tentatively she approached the water line, the waves lapping against her toes, now webbed with translucent membrane. She felt no anger from the water. Walking further in, she let the waves rock her, standing to mid waist. Still the water made no effort to deny her. In fact, the waves seemed to be pulling her further in, encouraging her to journey. With growing elation she turned back to the shore, searching for the stranger who had given her so much. The fire was empty, no sign of him remained, but at the distance she saw him, walking along the shoreline. The sword she sheathed at her side in the scabbard she did not even remember donning as she ran towards him. Touching land again, the scales retreated back under her skin with the same faint itching, but she knew they would return when she needed them.
“Wait! Please!” she cried, as she finally reached him. “Thank you! I don’t know what to say!” Puck’s eyes seemed to shine for a moment, as if he were smiling briefly under the folds of his cloak.
“To hear you sing again with joy, is better note than tongue employ. Never again to be alone, the seas are now yours both to roam.” Laughing, she threw her arms around him in a startled embrace.
“Why do you talk like that?” she breathed as she clung to him. A hand came to her back and held her for barely a moment before drawing away. Puck drew back the hood of his cloak, revealing a spill of fine pure white hair, that became caught in the wind.
“Long ago, a promise made, broken now, the price is paid.” He said softly as he took her hand and brought it to his lips softly. “I must go, my task is done, finished with the setting sun. When sea and air have need anew, so Puck shall come to pay his due.”