Once, a very long time ago, there was a girl who burned like a bright flame in a country of faded ash. Like a golden dream of prosperity, she wore only the finest moth-spun silks and tasted only of the sweetest fruit from the Deshaan.

One day, while she was admiring the blossoms in a field, a patch of ashen dust reached out and spoke to her in the rumbling tongue of the Red Mountain.

"Lady, you are the fairest thing that I have ever seen in this land. Would you wed me and take me as your husband? There is much that I could that I could do for you if you agree."

The girl was amused by the dust's audacity, but refused him with distaste. "No," she replied with certainty, for this was not new to her. There were many mer and womer among her people who desired her, but the girl knew that she belonged only to herself. "I will not wed you, you are nothing but a cloak of dust. Always trampled and soon forgotten, you would never be more than a burden for me to bear."

Laughing, she fled in a swirl of red robes, leaving the dust behind for a hold of solid stone.

The dust was dismayed by her refusal, but it did not despair. It curled up at the feet of a statue of Boethiah-Who-Fights and pondered; and soon it came upon an idea. Basking in the heat of the Mountain, it made of itself a sword. The dust-turned-sword made its way to a marketplace, and offered itself to the merchant of a travelling caravan.

"Take me," it said. "I am edged with the secrets of the first Death stolen from the wound of the land, and you will find no better blade in all of your travels."

So the merchant agreed, and took it in. The air rang out with the chimes and clashes of war as the sword crossed itself with enemies during their journey; but since it won every battle, the traders of the caravan knew no fear. They revelled in their good fortune and weighed themselves down with the luxuries that were so near to the girl's heart.

When they came to the hold where the girl had fled from him, the merchants laid out their goods in a tempting array while the sword gleamed with pride.

"Lady," it sang out in a clash of steel, "I have brought you the treasures that you desire, I have made myself a sword to guard the things that you love. Will you not admit my virtue and wed me?"

The girl heard his plea from her hold, and shook her head with scorn. "My treasures would have found their way to me regardless," she replied, "you do nothing that others have not already done for me. Besides, you have tended to but one facet of my needs."

She fled deeper into her hold, and took to its streets. Weaving her way among its people, she gathered orphans up by the handful and brought them to a building which she claimed as her home. There, she blessed them with the bounty of her wealth and gave them swords and armor of chitin to serve as a bulwark against her suitor and his approach.

The sword was dismayed by her refusal, but it did not despair. Taking its leave of the merchant and his caravan, it made its way to a shrine of Boethiah-Who-Changes-According-to-Need and took refuge to consider its next move. Soon, it came upon an idea, and added a new shape to its sword-self. The boy with the sword walked through the gates of the hold without protest, for in his wisdom, he had made himself much like the people of the land.

He lost himself among the orphans of the girl's bulwark and saw that they were unready. Although the girl had gifted them with all the protection that her generosity could obtain, they were still little more than children and the boy would take no honor from their defeat.

"Let us work together to earn mastery," he said to them in moonsweet tones. "By our efforts, we shall become a serpent with a thousand fangs."
The orphans agreed, and grew strong with their shared struggles as they marched in killing frenzy against all who would threaten them. The boy looked upon them with pride and brought them to the gates of the girl's home.

"Lady," he called out to her from beyond her gates, "I have raised your children well, I have shown them glory. I have lived among them so that they might better see what they could become. Will you not admit my virtue and wed me?"

The girl tossed her red-rivered head, and turned him down once more. "Nay, nay!" she cried. "You have stolen away among those that I have chosen, and so you remain beneath me. By walking among my orphans, you have become one of them, and I will not wed my charities!"

And so the girl ran away from him once more, turning to the highest and grandest house in the land for shelter. Since she was beautiful and had a power of her own, she was able to trade a kiss for entry at each door. She traded ninety-and-eight kisses, and so found her way to the tallest of its rooms, which she claimed as a sanctuary against her suitor.

The boy with the sword was dismayed, and did his best not to despair. He found his way to a temple of Boethiah-Who-Understands-Ascension, and took shelter under its roof. He tried to think of something, yet all his efforts came to naught.

But his struggles had endeared him to Boethiah, and the Prince manifested his/herself before him with a crack of thunder. S/he looked at him with eyes of flame and said, "Sometimes, it is necessary to look elsewhere for our solutions."

The boy understood. He returned to the streets where he had left his orphan-fellows and gathered them and more into an army. Under the banner of Moon-and-Star they marched, for in his aspiration, only the sky stood above the boy and his desire. They went into the north, and slew the frozen flickers who lived there to satisfy an age-old feud. The boy sliced the sky-beards from the bodies, and had them woven into a rope.

He returned to the hold and stood at the base of the girl's sanctuary. Wrapping the rope around the hilt of his sword, he flung it high above where it wedged into a crack in the stone of the house. Slowly but surely, he climbed the rope of beards and tumbled through a window into the girl's dining room, where she stood there in disapproval.

"Lady," he said to her with quiet assurance. "I have made myself the highest among all that I know. There is nothing or no one that I have the will to overcome. If there is anything you desire, I shall obtain it for you. Will you not admit my virtue and wed me?"

The girl looked at him, once, twice, thrice, and considered. He was now a leader in his own right, and had proven himself more than once. His days as a misbegotten patch of dust were all in the past and she could not help but recognise his worth.

"Very well," she said. "There is much to admire in your persistence, at any rate."

The boy laughed and though she was yet reluctant, she could not help but feel the appeal of his honest joy, and she placed her hands in his.

"Yes," she said. "I will wed you and take you as my husband."

.

.

.

Long after the wedding was over, the girl went to the boy and said, "I have given you all that I am. I am the golden dream of prosperity, and I have given myself over to you. Will you not give me something of yourself in return?"

The boy thought for a moment, then drew his sword and cut off his feet.

"Lady, all that I am, I have earned while chasing after your shadow. Therefore, since it belongs to you by right, I gift you this symbol to add to your glory."

The girl smiled, and accepted.