Moon moved silently as she retreated into her lair deep in the mountain in the bowels of the earth. The cavern began as a dark winding tunnel, and soon widened and opened to a great cavern the walls all crystalline in a multitude of color. The cavers glowed with it's own light though torches added their flicker as well. She withdrew the hilt of the sword her son had given her and hefted in in one clawed hand. She inspected the broken blade with the trained eye of centuries and sighed. she set it down and shifted to dragon form, and pulled several scales from her breast, scales that possessed the property of being practically indestructible.She set the scales on an anvil enchanted to withstand anything she might do to it. She inhaled deeply and exhaled a torrent of flame melting the scales down to a molten puddle. which she held in her foreclaw until it cooled as a solid bar, she then heated the blade still attached to the hilt Drathir had given her and the two metals were pressed together, heated again and she began the process of forging them together. Resuming her natural form for this delicate task, she picked up her hammer and began the long grueling process. The hammerfalls rang through the mountain long through the night and into the next day and night. Moon bent over the forged blade she'd crafted from the broken blade her son had given up so easily, and hefted it in one hand to the grinding stone to sharpen it further. Soon the blade would cut sunbeams it was so sharp. She polished the blade to a blinding sheen and finally she ran her hand on the blade, cutting it open and rubbing her own blood into it. The metal drew the blood into itself and took on a silver green cast. The blade was now permanently poisoned. She Wiped her brow with the back of her hand and set about the task of gathering supplies of a more arcane nature. Candles, crystals and incense were among the recognizable items. Others were unidentifiable. She set the candles in a circle around several runes she drew on the floor of the cavern and lit them. She worked long toiling as she transformed the forge to a foreboding place brimming with magical energy. She closed her eyes and began speaking low in ancient draconian, a language largely lost. Her body shimmered and became ethereal as if composed of a nebula. The sword began to glow and suddenly her body seemed to explode as a star-burst. The light subsided soon, being drawn into the blade, now indestructible. She held it aloft in triumph. "Usstan kaas nindol velve Avuna!" (Translated- I name this sword Fury) She wrapped the blade reverently in a black velvet swathing and set it away to give her son when next she saw him. She then retired to rest after toiling for a week