Demon who can't believe they've been made to do something so beneath them.
The weeks passed in a blur.
Scouring for reagents, researching the methods, buying a slew of brittle swords made by clumsy apprentices, testing the enchantments on them, triple checking, quadruple checking, etching the runes into steel until Lunaeris could do it in her sleep, commissioning the final swords from a master blacksmith, commissioning scabbards from a master leatherworker-
Stealing kisses, under cover of night, when she could.
These things all took time. Time that seemed to be closing in on Lunaeris as she worked, as the unbreakable strands of fate tightened around her neck like a noose. Her hero was to save her when the demon king attacked, and as she worked to create that hero that attack grew closer, and for all of her adventuring aspirations, Lunaeris was afraid.
The roads weren't safe anymore. Monsters lurked in the wilds, cultists gathered in the shadows, imps flew through the night skies.
One of her sister's husbands had actually died, crushed by a behemoth that had taken dozens to fell, but she was positive. The prophecy was about her.
Things were getting worse because of her. The timing was too perfect to be coincidental, things had gotten too bad too fast. She dreaded what might happen when she finished the swords.
But she finished them regardless. It was too late to stop now.