Teclis, greatest of the aelven gods and the maker of the Lumineth, forged the Blade of Symmetries as a philosopher forges an argument — with patience, precision, and a cold delight in the proof. The sword is a study in equilibrium: for every stroke it takes, it gives, and where its edge passes it splits the world into paired opposites, light against shadow, breath against silence, the blow and the answering wound.
The god carries it into battle rarely and reluctantly, for Teclis is a scholar before he is a swordsman, and he wields the blade as though solving an equation he finds distasteful. Even so, the Lumineth Realm-lords tell that no daemon has ever crossed swords with the weapon and kept its symmetry whole; the sword unmakes the crooked geometries of Chaos simply by touching them.
Those few mortals permitted to look upon it speak of a dizziness that overtakes them, as if the blade insists that all things be weighed and matched, and finds them wanting. To hold it, the aelves say, is to feel the universe's ledger open before you — every gift shadowed by its price, every victory balanced against a loss not yet counted.
The reliquary continues
