“Ouch!” I yelped, as the hot blue moon instantly scorched the small of my back. I bitterly tucked my silken shirt back in and continued on to the well through the shifting blue sands.

It had been weeks now. Weeks of drought and hours of cold labor in the hours where the dæjein, or sun, as the barbarians up north called it, was up and shining.

When I reached the well, there was a long line of people there already. I ducked my head a bit more as some tygoęts walked by. We had been under their rule for only a year now, but I could still feel the hot lines on my back where each man had been whipped as a show of strength.

I noticed others doing the same and with a start realized that someone was next to me. And old man, weathered by years in the moon it would appear. He leaned over as an old friend might, and told me of the dagger lying not ten cubits away. The shining glint from the hilt of the dagger was sticking through the top of the sand, gleaming blue from the moon.

The man begged me to grab it, and I watched in horror as he started running towards the front of the line, obviously trying to distract the tygoęts. It worked, and I sprinted over to the dagger and snatched it from the sand, almost instantly dropping it from the heat it radiated. I was back in line by the time they had finished killing him.

I was saddened by the death of the man, but had seen much more of the same in this past year. I wondered what it was about the dagger that made the man end his life for it.

As I turned my attention back to the dagger, I saw that there was a small inscription on it. huræįng dú eldevarī. Blood of my Fathers. I ran my hand down the blade and was shocked to realize that while the blade was still warm from the moon, the blade burned with coldness. As I inspected closer, I also saw that it was radiating a faint reddish glow.

I tested the sharpness, and shocked, I cut the edge of my palm just by touching the blade edge. Faint blue blood came pouring out, and I uttered a curse as I tried to staunch the bleeding without drawing attention from the tygoęts. It didn’t work. Two came over to see what the problem was, and as I tried to hide the dagger, one caught sight of it and ran forward to take it.

Without thinking I turned and cut his arm, all the way to the bone. The man collapsed, moaning with pain and and spraying the ground with blood. The realization of what I had just done gave me shock. I turned and sprinted away, hoping to find a save haven in the rolling blue sands.