Chapter 7

Thallerite is a mythic metal. Forged from four rare magical metals smelted together under the heat of four different types of magical fires. Thallerite is a matt black metal with waves of silver and scarlet and pecks of white that shine like stars. The metal seems to devour nearby light, and muffles localized sound naturally. A weapon forged from Thallerite is feather light but strikes like it has immense density. The metal naturally bestows its user with a type of Light element enhancement known as a Boon. Weapons forged from Thallerite not only enhance the user but can weaken those struck by the blade with a Dark element diminution known as a Hex. The recipe to make Thallerite is coveted knowledge to smiths who have an interest in magical materials, but the ability to craft it seems near impossible unless the smith is fabulously wealthy, has powerful social and political connections, and an impressive dose of luck.

While I waited in the auditorium for the indoctrination rite for the Sect of the Blackened Crown to begin, I questioned if I could sit at the sect tables for the indoctrinated students, so I chose to sit at the Slate bleachers at the back of the room. I waited in the nearly empty room, brooding over what I had heard in the last rite.

Child of two worlds. What did the goddess mean? I was positive that voice was Her Fragment of the Warrior’s Eye. Many deities, such as the Gods or Titans, seemed to derive immense entertainment from being cryptic, petty, and just as likely to cause trouble as to help. From what I understood, The Fragments were more active among their followers than most higher powers, but I had yet to see if that was a good thing. Those words were the first I had heard from any of the Goddess’s Fragments, and all I got out of it was more questions and no idea where to find answers. My first encounter with a higher power, and I wound up with equal parts cryptic words of wisdom and an even more cryptic title. I started the day with questions about my species and got questions about who I was stacked on top. I found it all deeply aggravating.

While I sat alone, the room was not empty. It looked like a couple dozen other students had the same idea as me. That meant that everyone in the auditorium was, at the very least, a Mastlok between Crimson Blade and Blackened Crown. A couple of them might have been Type 3 students, Mastloks training in three sects. Most of the students in the space looked bored, and a couple looked like they were itching for an excuse to pick a scrap with someone.

To keep myself distracted from the questions and make anyone looking my way think twice before getting hostile with me, I kept Venna exposed and made minor adjustments to her. I made a display of extending and retracting my shock bites and toying with the flame of my welder. I also rolled my fingers so that anyone looking my way had to take note of the clawed fingers I had.

It may only have been a half hour until the next rite was about to begin, but it felt like hours, alone in a room full of people gauging me for a threat. The next batch of trainees was less than a quarter the size of the last group. This wasn’t exactly surprising. The ratio of caster to mundane varied from species to species and, at times, from breed to breed. But the average ratio, when accounting for all species, was normally one in five individuals were a caster, often less. But I needed to remember that not all casters were Mages. More than likely, a large chunk of those here were Embers or Dyads that had a talent for martial combat in some form. I counted no more than a hundred and twenty or so students that were in the room by the time Master Mystagogue Neckar stepped up to the stage.

The small Gnomish woman wore ornate Master’s robes of scarlet with dancing pink and purple flame designs that shifted and shimmered across her torso and at the cuffs of her sleeves. Her skin was a deep tan with sea-foam green irises around triangular pupils under an explosion of pink, dandelion-textured hair.

I was not a fan of the Master. She had attempted to instruct me after I developed my Myst-Blooded magic. She proved to be just a short-tempered lunatic of a woman that over-shared. I tried not to blame her. She was unstable because, at the time, Rose had been secretly stealing the Master’s MyCast. For any other species, MyCast was a substance that gave mundanes the ability to use magic for a short time but was prone to be both highly addictive and dangerous. Because of this, it was a restricted and highly regulated substance in nearly all nations. But Gnomes, being a species native to another realm, were not subject to the same laws of magic as the rest of us. Neckar had developed a disease unique to Gnomes that reduced their Mystwell capacity and was fatal if left untreated. She was short on marbles when she attempted to train me because of MyCast withdrawal. I really did try not to hold it against her, but even when she was dosed and stable, she had an ego on par with a Dragon and disliked me because she failed to teach me how to access my Mystwell. She saw me as a failure and didn’t like being reminded.

Just as with Master Bail, Neckar gave a brief speech about honor and upholding duty. She was, as always, strict and relentless. As she spoke, she marched back and forth across the stage as she went on a monologue that had me dosing in my seat. When she finished, we all formed up into breaker formations again. This time, I wound up in the same formation as Mallrimor. As was the case last year, he was directly behind me in the formation. But this time, he didn’t have the courage to give me trouble. Because he was a Mage, he knew just how crazy the Master Mystagogue was, and if she caught me in a ‘mess up’, then the whole breaker, if not the whole student body in the room, would be punished. While I had no doubt Mallrimor would love nothing more than to blame me for the punishment of the whole student body in the room and turning them against me, he probably knew that it was a serious gamble. If he was caught causing me trouble and he was the cause of the room-wide abuse, he would lose all of his standing and clout with the class, which he valued more than causing me trouble.

One by one, the breaker formations entered the freight elevator with instructions for each formation to take a position in the room we were heading to. One breaker to head to the left side of the room. The next breaker was to head to the right side of the room. This pattern was to continue until all breaker formations were in the room and evenly split between the left and right sides of the room. I was part of the third formation to step atop the elevator and make our way to the next indoctrination room. The room in question, I would later learn was called the Hall of Sacred Tomes, and it lived up to the name. 

It was a long room with high walls that bent into an arched ceiling. The walls were packed tight with tomes from floor to ceiling, the ancient books even occupying space in the arch above. Standing in a row against each wall between the books and the students were the Mystagogues, each blindfolded with a black silk ribbon baring a purple diamond shape between their eyes and a closed tome held against their chests with both hands. At the end of the hall, the back wall was perfectly curved and mirrored the other walls with how thick it was covered in leather-bound books. The High Mystagogues stood against this back curve, each with a massive tome held open and facing outward in both hands. They were also blindfolded. In front of the High Mystagogues, centered near the back end of the room, was a throne standing atop a dais of steps.

The throne was shaped from mythril and gold. The base of the royal seat was formed from layered plates of gold and mythril in a patterned sequence and tightly twisted to form a dense helix. The metal of the base was made of layers of this design and intricately carved. The design of the base showed blooming roses at the center, with creeping barbed vines reaching out to either side. The arms of the throne were shaped similarly with the twisted metal, only they were shaped to look like woven ivy vines. The back of the throne was shaped from the same metals in tight braids from threads, reaching high into a series of tiered spikes. The center two and tallest of the spikes held an ornate silver crown with an emerald nestled at the brow.

As the final breaker stepped into place, Neckar marched down the center aisle, the length of the space carpeted with purple and green silk. As soon as she reached the throne, just when I thought she was about to take the seat for her own, she turned sharply on one heel and just as sharply gave two loud claps in quick succession. Without a single word, the Mystagogues that lined the walls beside the students all turned to face forward as one before setting into a march. As best as I could tell, none of them could see, but they still marched in perfect sync to the front of the room before turning to line the center walkway, facing center.

The Master flicked a digital document to the student body, just as Bail had. As one, we all read the instructions and followed them without question. Starting from the back of the room, one student at a time walked the aisle known as the Gauntlet of Forbidden Knowledge. Each open book they passed held secrets that were deemed too dangerous to be known to anyone but the Order. The student would circle around behind the throne, stopping at each of the open tomes held by the High Mystagogues and recited an archaic chant in the same dead language as in the last rite, before proceeding to the throne.

Sooner than I would have liked, my turn came. Each student that had gone through the rite took up a position at the front of the student formations, and row by row, we all stepped back. I was at the back of the room when I stepped out of formation to walk the gauntlet. I circled around the back of the throne, stopping at each tome to lay my right hand on the pages that held the names of great leaders and Heroes and recited the chant.

“Nemor sellona Zenna Kelthain. Twisson eyous layoss tetha. Twisson hosser moath spellen lerro. Twisson crysiloon minnor marllose fennon. Twisson purino spilross vissoran jounoss. Twisson porrous corren stiden tollerous.” It roughly translated to "I do so swear myself to Zenna Kelthain. With eyes, I see the truth. With honest lips, I speak no lies. With clear mind, I make my choice. With pure soul, I step upon the path. With strong heart, I step forward.”

After reciting the tongue-tying chant several times, slowly articulating each word, I stepped up to the throne. To show just how seriously Neckar took this rite, she didn’t even glare at me. Just as with every student before me, she handed me a smoking pipe carved from the tooth of a Stigmagaunt and stained with the blood of a Dragon. I took three deep inhales from the pipe, coughing horribly after each hit. The vile concoction of herbs had disturbing effects. The document each student read told us what each of the herbs in the pipe were in case of an allergic reaction, and I studied the herbs and their effects while waiting for my turn. The effects of the blend resulted in a thinning of the blood, minor hallucinations, and compulsive truth-telling. The herbs took effect after my first hit of the pipe. My head grew light, and it became hard to breathe. The colors of the room began to ripple and swirl together.

It was a good thing that I needed to take a seat on the throne to continue the rite because I had a hard time standing. As soon as I took my seat, Neckar levitated the crown from the head of the throne down to her grip. With ease, she split the headpiece into two jagged but even pieces, and the gem split as well. She closed the two pieces together with a light ‘click’ before resting it atop my brow. She then set to asking me three questions.

“Where does your faith lay?” Neckar asked

“I have faith in my friends and my Mystagogues.” I answered.

“What is your deepest wish?” She asked.

“To find my father’s killer and get justice.” I growled.

“What is your greatest fear?” This was her final question.

“To be abandoned and forgotten.” I muttered only loud enough for the Master to hear.

She gave a single deep nod of satisfaction before taking the crown from my brow and splitting it in half again, and handed one piece to me. I gently took the offered half of the crown. The edge of the metal and crystal looked brutally jagged and sharp to my eyes. I held the piece of metal in my right hand and drew it across the pads of my index and middle finger in a single swift motion while the Master pulled out a massive leather tome that was almost as big as she was. Without looking, she flipped it to the last marked page, where I found a list of names written in blood. These were each of the students that had come up before me. After a moment of hesitation, I wrote my name at the end of the list.

The moment I finished writing my name on the page, the blood ignited to burn the name into the page, and a voice spoke in my mind. This voice was like the last that spoke to me in the previous rite, only this one was more regal and wise sounding. “Child of elder-kin blood. Have my blessing. Show the world your valiant heart. Remember my values and judge those you encounter with honor and fairness. Show those of corrupt hearts no mercy.”

I took a long moment to digest those words, then a longer moment to ready myself to stand. After that, I stood and took my place in the front row of students. While the next few students passed through their rite, I used a breathing trick Thallos taught me that helped clear my head of the effects of the herbs. He also trained me to have a degree of resistance against hallucinogenics and truth drugs, as well as how to lie while under the effects of truth drugs. I honestly would have been tempted to test that training up there, but at that moment, I was stuck on what the Fragment said. Sacred child of two worlds? Child of Elder-Blood? What the hell was I?

I was pulled from my thoughts when I saw Mallrimor taking his turn. I desperately hoped that he made a fool of himself. But he recited the chant with no issue, and he answered the questions in a way that made him sound like a prick to anyone who knew him like me but like a badass to everyone else.

When Neckar asked where his faith lay, he said, “I have faith in my power to do what is right.” When she asked what his deepest wish was, he said, “I want to become a Hero.” When she asked him what his greatest fear was, he said, “I fear being defeated by those of darkness and evil.”

If he wasn’t under the effects of a truth-telling herb, I would have called it all a total crock of shit. But his answers told me just how skewed his perspective of reality was. The Drake-eyed Trog believed he was in the right when he tried to kill me. I had half a mind to put him down for good. As the formations left the hall, I brooded, thinking on the best way to kill the feathered bastard. Traps, poisons, ambushing him while in the restroom. I ran down a list as long as my arm of how I could kill him. But I decided against it because my father taught me to be the bigger man. If I killed him, everyone would blame me, and I’d shoot to the top of everyone’s hit list. With the Vector System still in place from last year, attacks against me would still be common, and a fair amount would probably try to put me in the ground. I didn’t need every single Tier 1 student gunning for me.

Just like the last group, the moment a breaker formation left the elevator to enter the auditorium, the formation dissolved like sugar in water into small gangs of students, ready to take advantage of the rest of the day. I had a hunch that the first chance he got, Mallrimor was going to cause me trouble, so I decided to make his goal harder. Keeping my posture slack, tired, and seemingly unaware, I slipped into the crowd at a pace like I had somewhere to be. I got a dense group of students between him and me to break line-of-sight before putting up a mimic facade to look like just a bland Human student. The moment my facade was up, I changed my posture, stride, pace, and stance to look like someone bored. With my hands in my pockets, leaning back, and strolling along, I made my way to the DEFAC. I sent Nel and Ferris a quick message through my therra to meet me for lunch.

Even as I made my way to the mess hall, I kept an eye on Mallrimor. I watched with satisfied amusement as the feathered twit wandered around with an annoyed look as he tried to find where I had gone. I actually got annoyed when I saw him give up and storm back to the dorms. I had hoped to see him struggle for a while longer. After I passed through the mess hall doors, I picked up my food and made my way to our now-standard table. After I took my seat, I dropped the facade and waited for the others. Not even three minutes later, I was joined by a borg girl and Quint. They both looked nervous as they took their seats.

With my turkey, roast beef, and swiss sandwich in hand, I pointed to Nel with my palm up and turned to aim it at Ferris. “You two okay?”

As one, the two looked at me like I had lost my head. “Why would we be okay?” Ferris snarked. “I still have one more rite that I need to go through. “Nel and I are both one for two.”

“What?” I asked in clear confusion.

“Nel and I are one rite down, one to go. And that blood and Goddess voice thing has me worried.”

I turned to Nel to find her verifying the statement with a quick nod while she kept her eyes locked on the sandwich on the tray before her. I took a vicious bite out of my sad sandwich and chewed it with hard bites while I thought. I washed down the bland mouthful with an aggressive swig of juice from a can. When I finally decided on my response, I gestured to Nel, then Ferris with the juice can, fluid sloshing around and dribbling out with the motions. “Guys, I’ve been through two of these rites, and I have two more to go. Count yourselves lucky. I won’t lie. Yeah, the two I’ve been through sucked Minotaur testicles. Yes, they both were stuffy and scary. Yes, they both had a load of symbolic dreck. Yes, both used blood. Yes, two Fragments spoke to me through my synapses. And, yes, by the gods, do I have an aggravating amount of questions.” With each statement, my tone grew a harder edge.

I watched as they both got more and more uncomfortable with every verification. I gave a heavy sigh before speaking again, in a softer tone this time. “Look, guys, yeah, they are uncomfortable to go through. But they give you a document beforehand. Read it over a couple of times and watch anyone that goes before you. You guys will be fine.”

“You sure?” Ferris asked.

“Oh yeah. You two should be fine.”

The rest of the meal was filled with talk about pop culture. It was all talk about holo-vid games, shows, and movies. I did my best to distract the two from their worries, talking about topics that I didn’t even have an interest in. Nel went on a tirade about a book series that had her frustrated because the last installment ended on a major cliffhanger. Ferris got wrapped up in a monologue about a Faell Ball holo-vid game he had been waiting for the past two years. I kept the two of them occupied even as we left the mess hall and wandered the nearby woods. It was true that everything in the environment had changed since last year. Even the tree that Rose liked to sit under so much was gone, and that gave me mixed feelings.

When the time came for Nel to head to her next rite, both Ferris and I walked her back to Aegis Hall and gave her a strong pep-talk. After that, I talked with Ferris about my own things while I waited for my next rite. While Nel and I enjoyed reading, our tastes in books were very different for the most part. But Ferris and I had a lot in common when it came to holo-vid games. We talked about the next Reaper Fury X game that was due to come out that year and went over the trailer videos together, looking for clues of what to expect. He and I also griped about a show we both had an interest in, Vellerra and the Nine Stars. The show was not holding true to the comic that Ferris had gotten me into reading over the summer.

Before I knew it, the time was 2:50 pm, and I was about to miss my next rite. I hurried back to Aegis Hall to find Nel waiting for me at the front gate. Ferris had been waiting for her to come back, and I had been worried. I felt relief seeing her for a few moments, then I got closer and saw that something was bothering her. Nennel leaned against a wall beside the front gates, arms folded over her new chest with hands holding both of her upper arms. Her head was bowed, so her hair blocked sight of her face.

I jogged up to her. “Hey, sis, is everything alright?” I asked.

She raised her face to meet my eyes with her own gaze. That gaze was heavy with something dark that bothered me. “We are going to need to talk after your rite is over.” Was all she said in a numb tone. I tried to press her for more information, but she just pointed to the gates beside her in a wordless command. I waited for a few seconds, but when she didn’t shift or speak, I took the hint and made my way to the auditorium. 

As I went, I put up the same mimic facade I had used to avoid Mallrimor. I had a feeling that this rite was going to have something to do with crafting something. I wouldn’t put it past any student taking part in the rite to make an attempt to ruin my crafting project, whatever it was going to be. So I planned to keep the mimic facade up for as long as I could and only drop it when I had to. That would give everyone around me little to no time to plot anything against me.

Even as I stepped into the large room with my disguise active, I looked over my shoulder with worry, hoping Nel would come rushing in to explain. I was so worried I didn’t even notice when Master Mystagogue Mallock entered the room until he spoke with an amplified voice. “Greetings, students. It warms my heart to see so many of you here today. I know you all have the spark of talent to become someone great who can craft things even greater. After today, you will officially be under my tutelage. I will warn you now, while I will nurture your sprouting talent to grow, I won’t be pulling punches. The strongest metals are forged under great heat and shaped by the diligence and precision of a mighty hammer in the hands of a master.”

That line about metals being forged reminded me of a line that a Dracose doctor told me last year. Was Master Mallock where Dr. Dreggren got that line? Before I could think more about it, the Master continued his speech.

“Today, you shall take the Rite of the Tempered Soul. Each of you will be given a very special metal to forge a great tool. The tool will be of your choice, but it should be something you will use frequently. It can be a hammer, pliers, a file, or anything else that you can imagine. While you forge your tool, you must mark it with six drops of your blood before quenching it in water. You also must recite a chant while you forge. I will send you that chant in a digital document before you start. You also will be forging with specially enchanted gloves made by yours truly.”

The Master stepped from the stage to walk over the freight elevator doors even as he continued speaking. “Now, the other Master’s will or have made their students form up into breakers, but I’m not one for formalities until necessary. If you could step into this elevator in groups that should not exceed fifty-five students, we shall descend. I will join the last group. Now, once you enter the Ceremonial Forge Hall, simply pick a forge. We will all start at once, but you may continue as long as you feel necessary to craft your best tool.”

As students began grouping up to make the descent, I felt something strange. It was a tingling and throbbing in my Mystwell. The Mystwell was where casters drew their myst from to cast spells. Everyone had one, but only casters had access to it, known as a channel. If I didn’t know it was my Mystwell, the best I could describe the sensation was a tingling and throbbing down my spine and in my veins.

I looked around to see if I could find the source. No one was paying attention to me aside from one figure. S18, the Half-Dwarf that stood in the formation position ahead of me last year. I would know that bald pate anywhere. But there was no way that he could know who I was. I still had my mimic facade up, making me look like a bland Human. But he still stared at me for a long few moments until he moved to step onto the elevator. But even after he walked away, I still had that strange feeling.

I was so distracted trying to find the source of the feeling I was part of the last group to leave the auditorium. Personally, I would much rather have been among the first. I wanted a good forging position in the Ceremonial Forge Hall.

The hall was a cavernous room, standing so tall I could barely spy the ceiling and so wide I couldn’t run from end to end in three minutes if I were sprinting. The hall was broken up into aisles that spanned twenty-some-odd feet, with a forging station every nine feet. Each station was chock full of tools for shaping and honing metal, wood, leather, or plastic. As I walked down the center aisle, I was searching for a good spot, preferably near the crafting material, because I had a plan, and it was going to take a huge chunk of time.

I found the material at the very back of the hall. What I found was astounding. A range of rare materials, from the unbreakable Adamantine to the Death Myst-infused Grave Stone. From the Light Myst-infused Luminite to the Dark-infused Umbranite. From the miracle-healing Deccarra Wood to the poisonous Death and Dark Myst-infused Whither Bane Wood. Shelves of these and more. I eyed the racks of rare substances and found something special at the ground level of the shelves. Magical fuel. I found Arcane Fire fuel, Shadow Fire fuel, Sacred Fire fuel, Eldritch Fire fuel, Frost Fire fuel, Ever-Fire fuel, Deddra Fire fuel, and even both Heaven Fire and Hell Fire fuels.

I was shocked by what I found. Row upon row of these rare materials and all right behind a stone desk where Master Mallock took a seat, even as I gawked. I turned to the Master and asked, “Can we use any of these?”

“Why, yes.” Mallock answered before he turned away and spoke with an amplified voice again. “At the back of the hall, behind my desk, you will find an extensive selection of materials that you may use. If you have nothing special planned, I would recommend you use Adamantine to forge your tool. It’s always useful to have an unbreakable tool.”

Students swarmed the shelves, taking a range of materials, but mostly Adamantine. It was then that I had an idea. I picked up bricks of Luminite, Umbranite, Mythril, and Adamantine, then turned back to the Master. “You wouldn’t happen to have Ikor Crystal?”

Ikor Crystal was an unbelievably rare substance. It was a crystal formed from the blood of a deity that had been spilled on Anogwin and allowed to harden. Gods, Titans, and even Eternals could produce the crystal, and the more powerful the deity, the more powerful the Ikor Crystal they produced.

The Master looked at the ingots I held under one arm with a raised brow before meeting my eye. “Are you planning to make what I think you are?”

I gave the Master a grin of manic jubilation. “Thallerite.” I said proudly.

“Well, Ticker, I must say, you are awfully ambitious.”

I gawked at the Master Mystagogue for a brief second before I asked, “You can see through my illusion?”

In answer the Master simply tapped under his mechanical eye. That was all I needed to understand that his cybernetic ocular piece was able to pierce illusions.

“But, Ticker, if you can pull it off, I will be very impressed. Yes, I have some Ikor Crystal from the Titan of Night Nocterra.” Mallock bent over his desk and pulled free a drawer with the sound of grinding stone on stone. He straightened as much as his hunched back would allow to reveal a small crystal in between two fingers. The shard was a deep scarlet color that throbbed with a dull inner light. I pocketed the small shard with a hasty yet profuse thanks.

“I’ll be sure to save you the fuels you’ll need for this project. You’re lucky that these forges have six burn sources.” Mallock said with an amused smile.

I hurried to an unclaimed forge not far from the back of the room and set down the metals. I hurried back to collect four canisters of fuel. One tank for Shadow Fire, one for Sacred Fire, one for Heaven Fire, and one for Hell Fire. I hooked up the tanks to the forge and readied all my tools and molds. I slipped off Venna and set her aside as I prepped for a serious forging marathon. Removing my gauntlet ended my mimic facade, but the nearest student was seven forges down to my left and facing the other opposite direction.

Not long after I finished setting up, I got the document from the Master that gave the details on the rite. I read it over time and time again before setting the chant into the corner of my vision at a size that was just barely readable. I slipped on the enchanted smithing gloves Mallock mentioned, and the strange throbbing came back with vigor. I tried to ignore it even as the rite started.

I set each of the ingots of mythic metals into four stone crucible bowls set to the side, ready for use. I set each crucible over a specific flame. Every minute and a half, I juggled the bowls from one magic flame to another in a systematic pattern. I did this repeatedly until all four metals were fully liquified. Next, as quickly as I could manage, I poured the Mythril and Luminite into a much larger crucible bowl that I had set aside before moving that bowl to the Hell Fire. I carefully dropped the Ikor Crystal into the alloy and watched in fascination as it dissolved, giving the liquid a red tinge. Next, I added the Umbranite to the alloy, slowly pouring it to make sure I didn’t waste a drop. It was then I noticed something. My Mystwell channel, normally only active and useable through my blood, was free. I spiritually felt around to find an easy path from my Mystwell to the liquid metal through the gloves I wore. I didn’t question it.

I needed to infuse the substance with myst while forming it. I was originally planning on just bleeding into the alloy until I couldn’t anymore. The open channel was a happy surprise for me. While pushing unpolarized myst into the liquid metal, I slowly added the liquid Adamantine. I had to be very careful with this. Adamantine could only be shaped once. After the metal cooled, it was unbreakable by any natural means. But that was only part of the issue. If I added too much myst in the smelting process, the result would be unstable and very dangerous to use. If I used too little myst, then the result would be a muddled mess of half-meshed metals.

While adding each metal, I made sure to juggle it between fire types to keep the fusion process up. This all was a serious test of dexterity and hand-eye coordination. Without Thallos’s training, I would never have managed this. Next, I prepped the first of the molds while I let the metal simmer. I needed a total of sixteen molds to get every component I needed for my tool. I started with seven molds set into a ready position. I pulled the metal from the fires and let it cool slightly before pouring it into each shape. While I poured, I recited “Nemor Sellona Venna Kelthain. Bennora fera arg forrus wel shadon. Bennora merrona arg porruser tegetha. Bennora intess arg meven tollerous. Bennora derriousarg pess un. Bennora sullik arg tullun en congyure. Bennora fanool arg hullen fassoon.” This roughly translated to “I do swear myself to Venna Kelthain. By fire and forge, we shape. By metal, we strengthen together. By innovation, we move forward. By dedication, we push on. By skill, we take on any challenge. By faith, we hold fast.”

I recited this over and over again as I juggled the crucible from the fires to the molds what felt like dozens of times, and that might not have been far from the truth. Each time I finished pouring a mold, I had to set aside the crucible, and bleed six drops onto each piece like I was supposed to for the rite. I honestly may have lost more blood from this process than if I had just bled into the molten metal while it was over the fires. The molds I used were formed from Adamantine with rubber seals enchanted to withstand the intense heat of molten metal. Luckily, I could skip the standard quenching process. Thallerite was a metal that naturally set and hardened with cooling, the molecules falling into place to form the rigid structure.

After all the metal was cured and set, I moved on to assembling my tool. Component after component was slipped together, every piece forged from the legendary Thallerite metal, even the screws. Once the metal was fully cooled, it was a shocking material to look at. Matt black with waves of dark silver and scarlet with specks of white like stars.

As I neared the end of my process, I heard a voice in my mind. This one was like the previous two, only rougher, less soothing, and more like a gruff blacksmith. “You’ve done good, kid. It’s good to see that you took the open myst channel and made the most of it. You picked up a monumental task, forging that tool, and it will serve you well in the days to come. Be sure to snub your nose at your old lady and show her that you’re no tool of hers.”

I tried to ignore the Fragment’s voice so I could wrap up my project, but that last line shocked me out of my focus. It took me a good couple of moments to get back into a working state of mind. Once I finished my tool, I stood up and wiped the sweat from my brow. I looked down at a multi-tool. A small collapsable device equipped with wire cutters, a screwdriver with replaceable heads in their own sockets, a metal file, a utility knife, a small saw blade, needle-nose pliers, and even a hammerhead. When I looked up, I found I was the only one in the room save for Master Mallock, who was leaning over my project with an inquisitive eye. “Well, boy, I gotta say, you really went all out for your symbolic tool. I think it’s rather fitting, given your profession in the Order."