Hallows' End is our three-day celebration at the end of the harvest season, where we eat, drink, and give praise for all that we have. It is also when my father, Tarver Irondale, Master Blacksmith of Uric, performs his annual Hallowed Forging. It is a ritual carried out since The Fall over a thousand years ago, when the dark sorcerers ruled the continent.
Most Hallowed Forgings are mundane affairs, though the weapon my father creates on these special nights are anything but ordinary. A "Hallowed Weapon" has not been forged in more than three centuries, but each year, he performs the ritual and ends up with what he calls a "Harvest" weapon. Harvest weapons are priceless works of art, yet they are unbreakable, never need sharpening, and will never rust or corrode. No one remembers what a true Hallowed weapon is, though everyone remembers the upheaval that such a forging precedes.
I, and the rest of the crowd gathered in Torren's central square, believed tonight would be no different. How wrong we were...
