On The Edge of a Blade

Prologue

Liana appeared on a dark night in the middle of the summer. She swept in like an angel, plucked the finest flower from the garden, then disappeared back into the shadows. With bloodstained hands, she traded death for life.

But, even in the hope of life, Liana never left behind the thrill of death. She dedicated herself to politics so dastardly that even a meddling nobleman would become squeamish; she slapped Fate and stole its power; she gambled with humanity and won; she stole a child from both Mother and Heaven, a mere babe delivered to her from the grime of the slums.

Rose.

Before she was even born, Rose was a harbinger of chaos. An unanticipated child, she left her parents in a state of war. Though he wasn't the one creating life within his own stomach, her father was frustrated. One day, he disappeared, dooming pregnant mother and unborn child to starve.

But why had he left, and where had he gone? Had he been unwilling to commit to family? Did he bear a fear of balancing the extra finances? He should know that money isn't the most important thing!

If only he would return, Tamar thought fretfully, a hand upon her stomach. Her pregnancy was hardly apparent, only the smallest of bumps promising her a future son or daughter. If her love returned, she would tell him that money didn't matter, not as long as they were together.

Only, she was wrong; out of everything, money matters the most. It is a cold dictator, determining joy and sorrow, acceptance and rejection. In a world such as this, no one acted unless prompted to by the gold in their hearts and the greed in their eyes. So, whether due to money or another equally as cruel overlord, Tamar's love never came back, leaving behind naught but mystery and misery to fill his empty spot in the empty house.

Months after his disappearance, and Tamar still continued to wait, gazing outside the window, hoping that her child's father would return. By this point, however, she found herself longing for those pouches of gold almost as much as a river of apology and explanation. With the skin on her hands dry and cracking from toiling over other people's laundry, Tamar knew that it was only a matter of time before she would be unable to procure the money needed for rent, let alone sustenance. Confusion turned to anger as she toiled, and her hunger for companionship morphed into hunger for food.

It wasn't until the baby was due any day that Tamar began searching for something new. The simple, optimistic days of hoping were behind her; she now yearned for more than peace and forgiveness. She needed something far less attainable by this point -- she needed a full blown miracle. In a kingdom of darkness and broken, soured hearts, good intentions and longing alone were no longer sufficient. They had never been; Tamar had simply been thinking wishfully, a dreamer turned a fool.

Where was the good man she had loved? And why had he never returned?

After months of existing under the accumulating weight from the hand of Despair, all of Tamar's faithful patience was finally rewarded. Where Life had once turned its nose up at her, it now extended a grand ultimatum. Though it wasn't the lover's treaty for which Tamar craved, it was still a solution. An unexpectedly foreboding solution, but a solution nonetheless.

In a word, it was a deceptive miracle.

A knock sounded at the door, a gentle rap which broke the resting silence. In sharp contrast with the stillness of the night, it rang through the air like the call of war drums, the most foreboding of tunes. At the sound, Tamar sat up, alert and brimming with caution. The sun had long since descended in the sky, deferring its position of reverence to the moon and stars. Just as day yielded to Night cyclically, so should visitors refrain from calling in darkness.

After a few seconds, Tamar relaxed fractionally. Perhaps they had left?

But, no. Patiently persistent, the person at the door knocked again, not to be ignored.