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"Mistress Nyrielle might be right about me," Ashlynn said softly. Slowly, she stood up from her chair and walked around the table until she came to stand before the gleaming blade. "Heila’s gifts are almost exclusively related to wood and water, but I’m strongest in wood, earth, and fire. It’s just that Jacques is the only witch in Big Sister Amahle’s coven who has much strength in fire so I haven’t learned very much. "

As she spoke, her hand drifted forward, almost unconsciously hovering over the hilt of the blade. This close, she could feel the heat trapped within the blade, aching to be let free. To her senses, the blade resembled a wild stallion, demanding to be conquered before it could be ridden.

"I can teach you how," Ignatious offered, stepping up beside Ashlynn. "From what Mistress Nyrielle has said of you, I believe you’re the kind of person blades like this were meant for. You may not be devout, but your heart is pure and that matters far more than blind devotion to the scriptures. So long as you would wield this blade in the service of those who struggle, aiding them in their quest to reach the heavenly shores rather than oppressing them and forcing them to fail in their struggle, I see no reason you shouldn’t bear this blade. "

"If she wishes it, and she can bend the blade to her will," Nyrielle said protectively. "Nothing else matters. Don’t wrap your faith around this needlessly after Artificer Erkembalt has revealed that this weapon places no restrictions of faith on its wielder."

"Forgive me, Mistress," Ignatious said, bowing deeply to the powerful vampire before returning his gaze to the witch who seemed so well suited to the weapon that he was certain she would have found a high place within the Church if not for their blindness, both to the strength of women and the truth of witches.

"My Lady," he said gently. "Would you like me to guide you in igniting the blade?"

For several moments, a tense silence filled the air as Ashlynn stared at the gleaming blade.

It wasn’t as long or as heavy as her darksteel falchion but the more she looked at it, the less she thought of it as a sword at all.

Rather, it resembled a witch’s wand in her eyes, something that could gather the power of flame and channel it to devastating effect.

With a blade like this in her hands, she could break down the gates of Lothian City and lay waste to the Lothian Fortress, but in the process, countless innocent soldiers would lose their lives to a raging inferno. Soldiers, servants... cooks like Ollie who had nothing to do with her conflict.

But as a symbol... As a symbol of faith, it could be even more powerful than it was as a weapon, so long as she dared to wield it that way.

Before she left the Vale of Mists, she’d already demonstrated her power to a small group of captives.

She’d hoped to show them that witchcraft was nothing to be feared, but instead, they’d taken her as a holy maiden.

Thankfully, she’d left the Vale before things could progress too far, but she’d never resolved the question of whether or not she was willing to use faith as a weapon against the common people.

Now, an even more effective means to do so lay directly within her grasp but. .. was she willing to use it?

"I don’t know," Ashlynn said, reaching out to place the lid back on the case that held the sword and securing the clasps at both ends. The instant she did so, she felt the echo of Nyrielle’s racing heart within her chest begin to slow and the darkness that her lover had gathered in the corner of the room to protect herself from the weapon began to fade.

"I think we’ve learned enough about this weapon for now, Sir Ignatious," Ashlynn said firmly, picking the weapon up off the table and presenting it to him.

"You and I can discuss it more another night. I’m not opposed to learning to use this weapon," she said, sweeping her gaze over everyone present and lingering on Nyrielle at the end.

"But even if the weapon doesn’t require faith, there are still questions in my own heart I have to resolve if I’m to win a struggle against the blade," she said firmly. "Until then, I think it’s best that Sir Ignatious holds onto this blade."

"My darling is wise," Nyrielle said, walking over to Ashlynn and wrapping her arms around her lover. As she drew closer, Ashlynn felt a subtle tremor in Nyrielle’s normally steady hands, and the midnight blue of her eyes seemed dimmer than usual, with a hungry sheen that Ashlynn had come to recognize all too well.

The blade’s presence, even dormant, had taken its toll.

The blade had been crafted to embody the flames of the sun and every minute in its presence wore away at Nyrielle’s strength in the same way that staying awake past dawn or rising before sunset would.

Nyrielle had endured its proximity far longer than was comfortable for her, and she’d done it not just because Ashlynn needed to understand this weapon’s potential, but to protect her from it if anything went wrong while they studied the dangerous weapon.

Leaning in, Nyrielle brushed her lips across Ashlynn’s, touching ever so lightly with the tip of a fang.

The touch was so light that it failed to break the surface of Ashlynn’s skin, but the catch in her lover’s breath told Ashlynn everything she needed to know about how much restraint it took for Nyrielle to maintain such delicate control when her need was clearly growing.

"Step outside with me," Ashlynn whispered, leaning up on tip-toes until her lips brushed against her lover’s ear. Her hands found Nyrielle’s, squeezing gently in silent acknowledgment of the sacrifice the vampire had made for her.

"You’ve endured the heat of the Holy Flame Blade, even if it was dormant.

Let me quench your thirst properly before we dine with the others. "