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“For my daughters,” she said.
Anna watched, Azul sleeping against her breast, while Amastan folded an iron blade with silent precision.
“Will this be enough to protect us?” she asked him.
Amastan glanced at her, his dark eyes deep and unyielding.
“It is not iron that protects a people,” he said. “It is their will to live.”
They laboured by moonlight, forging weapons from captured steel. Sparks flew like stars against the indigo night as men and women beat iron upon stone anvils.
Elias taught them Ottoman bladecraft techniques. Aisha, her strong arms glistening with sweat, raised a curved sword she had shaped herself.
This creation was not made on NightCafe.
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Inspired by @Diane-de-la-Cheneraye