Carmine Weapon

“Carmine,” My father said quietly and the married Huntress stepped forward, drawing her sword with a crack of her neck and a small smile. With the flick of a wrist, the broadsword sagged, breaking into a dozen sections connected by metal cords as it curled into a pile as her feet. Her aura crawled over the blade more slowly than I would have expected, the very faint red rising from the blade like a heat shimmer. Once it had fully encompassed the blade, she tilted her head and looked at my father.