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The sides bear the design of winding ivy—a beautiful plant that flourishes in Lirasu with all the rain. It’s a weed in a lot of areas, thriving where it’s not meant to.

I can relate. I never do feel like I belong, but even when things get tough, I somehow survive.

We make the shafts short—about the length of my forearm, with rounded pommels and a thick wrapping of leather on the grips.

The hammer meant for my left hand, I magic just as I did before, giving it the properties of an invisible shield with rebound power.

But I don’t stop there.

Its right-hand twin will also receive the energy from each blow taken on the left hammer. Each swing will not only have my strength behind it, but the strength of my opponents in battle.

I name them Echo and Agony.

Echo for the shield. My enemies will get more than an echo when they try to smash their weapons upon it, but I like the gentleness of the word. Something needs to be gentle amid all the brutality of battle.

Agony for the right hammer. Not only will it cause pain to those who feel my strikes, but to me as well. I don’t like fighting. I hate how it changes me and gives me memories that are impossible to forget.

But I will be prepared for the fight ahead. Just having these new hammers at my side brings a small sense of safety I didn’t realize I’d been missing.

Working clears my head.

Maybe it’s being in a familiar setting or having my friends and family close by once again. But I feel stronger and braver each day, like things aren’t as hopeless as I once feared.

I forgot how hammering at steel helps me to relieve stress. Not having it has been awful. While captured, someone was always looking over my shoulder while I worked, but now everything is different. Serutha was right. I needed to take this back for myself.

And I realize during the passing weeks in Abelyn’s forge that I’ve spent so much time worrying over others, to the point where I forgot to think about me. I worried about what my recapture would mean for everyone else. My own safety was always secondary.

But here, in this safe place, with only the grizzled smithy for company, I realize just what Serutha meant. I realize what Ravis did.

He took something I love and made me afraid of it. He caused me to lose my confidence in my abilities. He temporarily made me lose my love of forging. He threatened Kellyn.

He made this war personal.

If Ravis is allowed to spread throughout Ghadra unchecked, he will make life a misery for me and any other magic users in the realms.

I want to stay to make a stand formyright to live how I wish.

I’m not running. I want to see Ravis’s supplies slowly dwindle and watch him flee with his tail tucked between his legs. I want to stay to build something. To help the world truly defeat tyranny. Maybe Temra is right and my presence will rally people to the cause. Maybe we can build an army large enough to stand up to him someday.

I won’t give up my decision not to make weapons for powerful people again, but I can still help. I can still forge. I can still be me.

I will fight forme.

There is much to be done to prepare for the imminent threat. Even when I’m not in the forge, I’m kept busy. The people need help bringing themselves and their livelihoods within the palace walls. We carry children on our shoulders, herd wayward sheep through the palace gates, lift baskets full of food and clothing into the outer courtyard.

Skiro opens the palace to the people. They cram into the servant wings. Servants cram into the empty wings of the nobility. Temra, Petrik, Kellyn, and I shove our belongings into one room to make way for others.

But not everyone will fit inside the palace. I help erect tents out in the courtyard. Cows, goats, and other animals wander aimlessly without any fences to keep them contained. Chickens scatter from the boots of guards running around the space. Skiro’s men carry weapons, shields, and anything else needed to the lookout points atop the wall.

Fear drips through the palace like rain, speeding and slowing at its own pace. The guards especially are ripe with it, but Skiro tries to assuage everyone’s fears. He leaves the palace daily to go and speak to his people. He offers encouragement, safety, food to all.

He makes pretty speeches, but they don’t calm my own worries. I try to cling to my newfound resolve instead as I watch day after day slip by.

I’m staying for me, becomes my new mantra.

Now that I’m seeing things Temra’s way, there’s only one thing for me to do.

Apologize.