Content warning: violence, language, grief, etc
Before
For centuries, millions lusted after the Razaran. Whole civilisations rose and crumbled as the Blood Wars raged throughout the land. The blood after which the wars were named pooled to the ground, brethren all too willing to kill their own when faced with the prospect of power -
Each time the conflict quieted, each time the people allowed themselves to hope that maybe this time, peace would last, the Razaran would reappear, incensing a new wave of people to sacrifice their friends, their family, their humanity in the name of the legendary War Starter.
When the ashes finally settled and only those incapable of battle remained, the relic vanished. As decades passed without sign of the legendary dagger, the survivors were all too willing to forbid all mention of the cursed dagger. If no one mentioned it, they argued, no one would fight for it. Hushed rumours of its magical properties grew more and more preposterous until all that was left was an old wive's tale fit only for sleepy children. History became fable as new kings and queens chose rebuilding the world over supposed fairytales. The Razaran faded from the world's fabric, one knife in a sea of fabled weapons.
Still, one mantra remained in each ballad and story -
Beware the Razaran, for its power was great and its demands greater still.
Author Note: I don't even know how to categorize this fic. It's not one crossover but many. It's not one story but many. It's not one world but many. In other words, it's a (hopefully entertaining) mess ha - thanks for reading!