Astucia kept thinking of the Nameless Blade. She felt something wasn’t right and the dreams kept showing her and trying to get her to agree to touch it.
If she let it in, she would be possessed, that would cause more issues. She definitely wasn’t going to be able to keep a Primordial Vampire out of her mind for long.
Shielding was not her strongest gift even though she could shield some. The blade kept whispering to her trying to convince her that she should take it up.
she had felt that if she did pick up the blade in the dream or vision then she would be letting the blade in.
Zahir had been quite convincing and was charming. She didn’t fear him nearly as much after weeks of his persuasion. Though she also didn’t trust him either.
“Astucia, come on, pick up the blade and you will be stronger than you have ever been before. “
She smiled “You are hiding a lot from me. Even I can tell that. This dagger holds all of Memories gifts but very few people could hold all and still be sane”
He laughed “The real question is who said that they were sane? Mneme has forced many into insanity, and many of my family have been punished.”
“What happens if I take up the blade?”
He smiled “That is simple you link to the blade and it will allow you to get the proper training on now to defeat The Seven”
She laughed “Good try but I am not buying that. You are from before The Seven but how did you get here since I can sense you in the blade?.
He smiled and showed his red teeth “Well that is different. I will show you the memory”
——
The chamber had been built where no sunlight had touched the earth for thousands of years.
Zahir Kharim stood alone at its center.
Before him rested the dagger.
It had no name then.
It was simply a blade.
Black metal.
A bone-white hilt.
No inscription decorated its surface. No crest identified its maker. No jewels proclaimed the wealth of whoever had commissioned it.
Yet Zahir understood what it could become.
He removed the robe from his shoulders and allowed it to fall to the stone floor.
His long braided hair hung midway down his back.
Across his chest were hundreds of markings.
Names.
Some belonged to kings.
Others to warriors.
Priests.
Mothers.
Children.
Vampires.
Mortals.
Every name represented a memory Zahir had consumed.
Thousands more existed where no writing could ever record them.
Inside his blood.
Zahir looked toward the shadows.
“You wanted a vessel.”
Something whispered back.
Not one voice.
Seven.
We wanted permanence.
Zahir smiled, revealing teeth already stained crimson from centuries of consuming blood and memory.
“You shall have it.”
He reached for the dagger.
The instant his fingers closed around the hilt, pain tore through his hand.
Zahir gasped.
The blade was drinking from him.
Not blood.
Not yet.
Memory.
Images exploded through his mind.
His childhood.
His first kill.
His Embrace.
The first memory he had stolen.
Faces he had forgotten centuries ago suddenly returned with perfect clarity.
Zahir nearly released the weapon.
Nearly.
Instead, he tightened his grip.
“No.”
The blade pulled harder.
“You will not consume me.”
Blood began running from his palm.
It traveled strangely.
Rather than falling toward the floor, the blood crawled along the dagger’s hilt.
One drop.
Then another.
The black metal absorbed each one.
Zahir watched.
“Yes.”
The Seven whispered again.
More.
Zahir lifted the dagger.
He understood.
Blood alone wasn’t enough.
The weapon required something deeper.
Something freely surrendered.
Zahir placed the point against his chest.
Directly above his heart.
He hesitated.
For the first time that night, fear touched him.
Becoming immortal was one thing.
Becoming something that could never again truly live was another.
No body.
No touch.
No taste.
No walking beneath the moon.
Only memory.
Only blood.
Only the blade.
Forever.
Zahir closed his eyes.
“Flesh is temporary.”
The Seven answered.
Blood remembers.
Zahir pushed the dagger into his chest.
His scream shook the chamber.
Blood poured around the blade.
But none reached the floor.
Every drop disappeared into the black metal.
The dagger drank.
Zahir fell to his knees.
His veins darkened beneath his skin.
His heart hammered.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Each beat forced more of him into the weapon.
But Zahir had prepared for this.
He wrapped both hands around the dagger.
Then he spoke the words he had spent centuries learning.
“My blood is my memory.”
The blade trembled.
“My memory is my name.”
The chamber shook.
“My name is my soul.”
The markings across Zahir’s body began disappearing.
One after another.
The names vanished from his flesh.
But voices began screaming from inside the dagger.
Thousands of them.
Every memory Zahir had consumed was being drawn into the weapon with him.
His eyes widened.
This had not been part of his plan.
“No.”
The Seven laughed.
Zahir tried pulling the dagger from his chest.
It would not move.
“No!”
His hands were becoming translucent.
The edges of his body dissolved into streams of dark crimson mist.
Zahir roared.
“I COMMAND YOU!”
The dagger answered.
For the first time, a voice came from the blade.
His own.
Then command yourself.
Zahir froze.
His reflection appeared across the polished black metal.
But the man looking back at him was smiling.
Zahir wasn’t.
The reflection opened its blood-red mouth.
Finish it.
Understanding came.
He wasn’t dying.
He was dividing.
Flesh from memory.
Memory from identity.
Identity from name.
Zahir stopped fighting.
Slowly, he smiled.
“So that is your secret.”
He wrapped his fingers around the hilt again.
Then he pushed the dagger deeper.
His heart stopped.
Silence filled the chamber.
Zahir whispered his final words as a creature of flesh.
“Let blood remember what the world forgets.”
His body collapsed into crimson mist.
The mist spiraled around the dagger.
Faster.
Faster.
Until suddenly—
it vanished into the blade.
The dagger fell.
It struck the stone floor with a metallic clang.
Silence.
Nothing remained of Zahir Kharim.
No body.
No blood.
Not even the markings that had covered his flesh.
For several moments, the dagger simply lay there.
Then something changed.
Thin crimson veins appeared beneath the black metal.
They pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
A heartbeat.
The Seven whispered from somewhere beyond the chamber.
Zahir.
The dagger remained still.
Zahir Kharim.
Nothing.
Then laughter came from inside the blade.
Deep.
Ancient.
Satisfied.
“You misunderstand.”
The Seven fell silent.
The crimson veins spread farther across the weapon.
Zahir’s voice came again.
“I gave the blade my blood.”
A pause.
“I gave it my memories.”
The chamber darkened.
“But I did not give it my obedience.”
The dagger lifted several inches from the floor.
Zahir laughed.
And somewhere beyond the chamber, something ancient realized that the ritual had created something neither Zahir nor the Seven had fully anticipated.
The weapon no longer belonged to Zahir.
Zahir no longer inhabited the weapon.
There was no distinction between them.
Zahir Kharim had become the blade.
And in the centuries that followed, even his name would disappear.
Kings would forget him.
Vampires would erase him from their histories.
The Great Houses would bury every surviving account of what had happened in that chamber.
Eventually, only the weapon remained.
A black dagger containing the blood and memories of a creature the world had deliberately forgotten.
With no surviving record of its creator, its purpose, or its true identity, later generations gave it the only name that seemed appropriate.
The Nameless Dagger.
And deep within the blade, Zahir waited.
Because blood remembers.
And he knew that eventually someone would touch the dagger who could hear what the blood remembered.
—-
“The Seven but you said you predated them”
He laughed “My dear. I do predate The Seven as they were what we created when the Primordials decided to end our own existence in this way. No, The Seven they have are the Seven Antecedents that came before Primordials. They have removed themselves from society and we don’t know whether they still even exist.”
She looked at him, “Seven seems to be a strong number for vampires.”
He nodded “Yes it is.”
She gasped “Wait, that must mean that there are seven of these artifacts. So all Primordials would have created their own objects”
He nodded “Yes we each created our own or rather sacrificed ourselves into the objects. The dagger was my most common weapon and it is one that is still used by what was my tribe to this day. Others did have more peculiar tastes and used other objects. Those who are given the gift of us are given special names as well; they are called BloodBearers.”
She looked “Are there others of these people?”
He looked “I can’t tell you that.”
She laughed at Zahir “You made a mistake showing me that memory.”
Zahir smiled. “Did I?”
“Yes. You showed me that the blade couldn’t control you.”
His smile faded slightly.
Astucia looked at the dagger.
“Which means it doesn’t get to control me either.”
She reached out and grabbed the nameless dagger. She felt pain in her palm and she could feel the blade taking its hold on her.
“We are bonded now”. He said that glibly as it be knew all along that she would be his.
She nodded “Like you I don’t control easily”. She pushed her mind open and felt something more dark. “I am the first BloodBearer in a thousand or more years. All others died in wars. We will seek out more of these artifacts and will find those who are supposed to be bonded.”.
She turned around and she saw Ashlana now and the Nameless Dagger was now in a holder on the desk. “You have taken the dagger it seems or it has taken you”
She nodded “Yes and I have the information we need. We will be able to combat The Seven with these artifacts. The Primordials are going to be our salvation. What they don’t realize is that we can keep them from controlling us.”
She continued “We keep calling them the Seven,” Astucia whispered. “But there has never been only one Seven.”
Ashlana looked “What do you mean”
“Zahir tried to convince me for weeks to take the Nameless Dagger. What he didn’t realize is that memories that he imbued the dagger with are at my control. I had an overload but I was shutting down my gift so as not to get overwhelmed. That is how they have controlled the BloodBearers before, but I am stronger than all of the former ones combined as I have your blood.”
She continued on “The thing is The Seven is more than just what you have heard or seen. The generations before were all about 7. Each of these groups have seven members except now for the cadres as they have gone away from that number system. The Seven houses will need to fight with the seven BloodBearers when they are eventually created.”
“We can use them,” Astucia said.
Ashlana stared at her.
“That isn’t what you said.”
Astucia frowned. “What?”
“You said the Primordials are going to be our salvation.”
“And?”
Ashlana slowly approached the dagger.
“Weapons don’t offer salvation, Astucia.”
Her eyes settled upon the black blade.
“Especially weapons that remember being people.”
She laughed “It won’t be easy but we can combat The Seven by using the Primordial Artifacts. The Nameless Dagger is not under control yet but I will master the dagger. I need more information that is from a source that isn’t the dagger itself. What do you suggest?”
Ashlana nodded “We don’t have many records from that time. One of my guards was once one of the librarians in the old archives. You can’t be certain you can control Zahir”
“The others were overwhelmed because they couldn’t separate their memories from the Primordial’s. I can. Your blood strengthened what I already possessed.”
“How do you know that thought belongs to you?” Ashlana asked
Astucia smiled. “Because Zahir wants me to believe I need him. That thought tells me I can master him. If he planted it, then he’s made a very serious mistake.”
Ashlana’s expression didn’t change.
“Or,” she said, “he knew exactly which thought you would trust.”
—–
It has been a week since she had taken up the Nameless Blade and she regretted nothing. This was going to help her survive the fight with The Seven.
She had felt her powers growing despite the fact that she had felt awakened trying to find Zahir.
“Nyamaraso, you can’t escape from me. “
She hated that name as it meant in Rwandese Belonging to Blood which I guess fit perfectly with vampires especially those who had embraced one of the most powerful people ever.
BloodBearers she was learning were stronger than most normal vampires and were close to the same strength as the members who ran the cadres. It wasn’t all about the age of the vampire but the blood.
Being in the Bloodbearers meant you have taken a part of the blood from the Primordials which means you were getting some power that Ancients had.
Zahir smiled as his image appeared in her mind “You must find the rest of the relics of you wish a chance to fight the seven without losing too much. Your powers will help you.”
He said again “Go to Corinth and meet the Greek Ancient Drakon Melanthios. He is a former trainee of mine. He will help you.”
Crazy Canadian Writing 