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“Osric.” Her voice was a cold wind, and he shivered. “What are you doing here?”
He had rehearsed a thousand different speeches, a thousand different apologies, but now that he was here, the words deserted him. How could he explain what he had done, the betrayal that he had committed in her name? But the urgency of his mission, the lives that hung in the balance, pushed him forward.
“I need your help,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Please.”
Hali’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he thought she would send him away. And he knew, with a sinking heart, that she would be right to do so. He had no right to ask for her help, not after what he had done. But then her expression softened, and she stepped back, holding the door open for him.
“Come inside, then. I suppose you’d better explain.”
The warmth of the fire enveloped him as he stepped inside, and the scent of old books and something sweet and spicy that he associated with Hali herself wrapped around him. He closed the door behind him, and then turned to face her, his heart in his throat.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “For everything.”
She regarded him in silence, her expression unreadable. But her silence was enough. The weight of it, the weight of his betrayal, crashed over him, and he had to brace himself against the door to keep from falling to his knees.
“Please,” he said, the word tearing free from his throat. “Please, you have to believe me. Everything I told you, everything I felt—it was real. I was a fool, blinded by my duty, but that doesn’t change the truth of it. I love you. I always will.”
Tears glistened in the corners of Hali’s eyes, and Osric’s heart shattered in his chest. He had known this would be the hardest part, the cruelest blow of all. To see the light in her eyes gutter and die, to know that he was the one who had extinguished it—it was a punishment he deserved, and more.
“I wish I could hate you,” she said in a trembling whisper. “By the forge, it would be so much easier. But I can’t. I can’t stop loving you, either. And that just makes it hurt all the more.”
She turned away from him, her shoulders shaking, and Osric closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of her pain. He knew it was unfair to burden her with his sins. But he was out of options, and time was running short. He’d come too far to turn back now.
“The Forge of Vulkan,” he said, his voice hollow. “They gave me purpose and passion in life, but what they want to do . . . I can’t see it through. Please, Hali, you have to help me. You’re the only one who can.”
She was silent for a long moment, and he feared she would refuse. But then she turned back to him, her eyes hard.
“I can’t forgive you, Osric. Not yet, maybe not ever. But that doesn’t mean I want to see the world burn. If there’s something I can do to stop it, then I have to try.”
She crossed her arms, and he felt the distance settle between them, a vast, unbridgeable gulf. But still, she was listening, and for that, he was grateful.
“Tell me what you need.”
Osric’s hands trembled as he reached for the teacup Hali offered him, the fragrant blend of herbs and spice cutting through the chill that had settled over him. He sipped it in silence, trying to gather his thoughts, his words. How could he begin to explain the depths of the council’s madness, the dark and terrible power they sought to unleash? How could he convey the urgency of the threat?
“The Anvil of Destiny.” He spoke the words in a hush, but even so, they echoed like a death knell through the room. “It’s the key to everything the council hopes to achieve. With it, they believe they can reshape the very fabric of reality, bend it to their will. But to do so requires a great sacrifice, the life force of the Forge’s enemies. The more powerful the enemy, the greater the sacrifice, and the more power the Anvil can channel.”
Hali’s eyes widened, and Osric could almost see the thoughts racing behind them, her quick, brilliant mind already seeking out connections, solutions. It was one of the things he had always loved most about her, the way she found patterns where others saw only chaos, the way she could find a way forward where others saw only a dead end.
“And the Hammer of Earthblood,” she said, her voice low and thoughtful. “It’s the other half of the equation. The tool that shapes the Anvil, that channels the power. But it’s a weapon, too, isn’t it? And to use it as the council intends . . .”
He nodded, his heart heavy. “It requires a great blood sacrifice, too. The death of the Forge’s enemies, their life force to power the hammer. It’s a cycle, you see, a balance. Life and death, creation and destruction. But the council, they see only the power, the chance to remake the world in their image. And I cannot be a party to such madness.”
Hali reached out a hand, gripping his with surprising strength. “You don’t have to. We’ll find another way, Osric, I swear it. We’ll stop them, whatever it takes.”
He wanted to believe her, with a fierceness that frightened him. He wanted to believe that there was another path, a way to avert the council’s madness, to save the city, the world, from the firestorm that threatened to consume it. But he had been over every angle, every possibility, a thousand times, and he could see no other way.
“The council’s already preparing for the ritual. It’s only a matter of time before the Hammer of Earthblood is unleashed, and the Anvil of Destiny is forged. I don’t know how to stop them, Hali. But I had to try. I had to come to you.”
Hali’s grip tightened. “Then we’ll figure out something else. We have to.”
For the first time in a long while, Osric allowed himself to hope.
They worked through the night, surrounded by stacks of ancient tomes and scrolls, the shop a jumble of paper and leather and long-forgotten secrets. Hali’s coffee was long gone, the bitter dregs coating the inside of the mug, but she barely noticed. There was a fierce light in her eyes, a determination that nothing could dim, and as she and Osric pored over the texts, he could almost see the gears turning in her mind, the pieces of the puzzle slotting into place.
Finally, as the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Osric sank back with a weary groan. “I can’t do this,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “I want to stop them, I do. But I don’t know how.”
For all his bluster, his stoic facade, he was a man tormented by doubt and guilt, torn between his loyalty to the Forge and his yearning for something more. And as much as she deserved to be angry with him, to hold on to her hurt and her sense of betrayal, it seemed she couldn’t help but feel a swell of compassion, of love.
