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The clang of metal becomes my orchestra, the glow of the fire my painting. The hammer and anvil are more than tools but extensions of me, and Kairyn’s notebooks become sacred texts.

Working with mythkarite is like working with a cloud. I never gave much thought to legends of gods and goddesses, carried down from the Above and passed on as fables. But now I feel as if I am godlike. With this forge, this metal, this flame, I could craft anything.

One by one, I pour the flames of the Vale into my creations. I strengthen the divine weapons, pouring Dayton’s magic into his trident, reinforcing Farron’s lance, and restructuring the Hammer of Hope with all the learning of the Spring high rulers who came after Rafael. When I hold it in my hand, I know there is no weapon in any of the seven realms that could break this.

Not even Faustrius’s sword.

Then I craft new weapons. A rapier as sly and deadly as its wielder, one that will answer with shadow but gleam like moonbeam. Caspian gives me the moonstone necklace, and I braid the magic together; now he will be able to call upon it as I do my hammer. The Rapier of Redemption.

I recruit Jack for help with Wrenley’s weapon, asking him to find me wood as strong and unbreakable as the best metal. He brings silvery-white logs, reminiscent of the tree he came from. With these, I craft a crossbow, intricately carving briars into the wood. The bolts of blackened mythkarite, I enchant so they will always return. When I present it to Wrenley, she takes it cautiously, a scowl upon her face. “Good enough, I suppose,” she says.

I spot her sleeping with it that night.

The next weapon has me pacing past the forge for hours before I rally the courage to pick up my smithing hammer. For this must be a weapon beyond all the others.

This is the Sword of the Protector, and its destiny is tied to that of the Vale.

How do I forge such a thing?

But the answer comes to me as I begin to work.

It is not something I can craft. It is a path I follow. Kel’s flame leads me, roaring with its own strength. I am the vessel it flows through.

And when I see him take the hilt for the first time, lifting it off my anvil, testing its weight, the icy-blue sheen bathing his face in light, I fight the urge to bow.

In that moment, I am sure. We will retake the Vale and restore our home, and Keldarion will be the first King of Castletree, ruling beside his queen.

And I’m not the only one. Everyone gathers around Kel, staring at him as if he has returned from thousands of years away in the stars.

“How do you feel?” Dayton asks him.

It starts small, just in the corner of his lip, then Kel’s face explodes into the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “I feel so fucking happy, I could kiss you.”

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” Dayton says. He lunges forward, grabbing Kel’s face and planting a wet and sloppy kiss on his lips.

Kel jerks away with an exaggerated look of disgust while Caspian falls to his knees. “The bet! How could I lose? Ezryn, you’ve betrayed me!”

All I can do is roll my eyes. Maybe we’re coming back to ourselves yet.

The next few days, I busy myself with other work: mythkarite armor and weapons for our friends back home. And a special gift I hide in a small box. A gift I wait to give.

But the ore runs low, and I need enough for my last piece.

Rosalina finds me alone, staring at the hammer upon the anvil.

“How do I capture you?” I whisper. “How do I pour your goodness and compassion into a weapon meant to bring destruction?”

Rosalina comes up behind me, running her hands along my bare arms. I wear only my helm, an undershirt, soot-stained trousers, and a leather apron. “You remember we fight not because we wish to but because this world is worth fighting for.” She turns me gently until we’re face-to-face. “Our goodness and our compassion…those are our strengths. And this bow will be wielded with the truth that power and love are not opposites. We are strong because we dare to love, even when the world tells us not to.”

And so I remake the Bow of Radiance. And in it, I pour not only the flame of the Queen’s Realm but the flame of Spring. Of Summer. Of Autumn and Winter. And of the Above and Below.

A bow that burns with the very heart of the Vale itself.

And when we stand as seven strong before the forge, wielding our divine weapons, I know one thing.

It’s finally time for us to return home.

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