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Nepta wasted no time in expanding the forge. The once meager yet elegant space had multiplied in size. The changes were hastily made to accommodate the upcoming work, but I still marveled at how quickly it had been assembled.

Anyone with even the faintest idea of how to work a hammer was called to help, and the volunteers were many. One team was dedicated to cutting the Ever-burn meteor into manageable bricks while the other processed the pieces at the forge, shaping them into all manner of weapons.

Nepta stood in the center of the operation, her crescent moon staff maintaining a constant portal between the forge and the Ever-burn site.

Her lined face was deep in concentration, and sweat dripped from her brow.

Her shimmering portal churned as chunks of the celestial stone were transported to the village.

The newly expanded forge buzzed with activity, working like a well-oiled machine under both Nepta and Bailon’s instruction.

Several stations were set up with basins of water, blazing hearths, and tool racks filled with tongs, hammers, and chisels. The air was full of steam, heat, and the sound of clanging metal. Each strike sounded like a countdown to war.

The scale of work was unimaginable. We needed to create armies worth of weapons in a matter of days. Every elve moved with urgency and determination as they worked with the gleaming metal. Flames flickered across their faces as our rebellion sparked to life.

“We gathered every able-bodied elve to help with the weaponry,” Bailon said, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his gloved hand.

His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was worn with exhaustion.

“We have streamlined the process as much as possible, but many here are new to the craft. Though we are teaching and producing simultaneously, I believe our results are promising.”

My gaze swept over the racks and workbenches filling with knives and swords.

The weapons gleamed with Light, and though Bailon felt optimistic about production, the cache of weapons seemed dwarfed by the brood of demons in the crevice.

The weapons weren’t needed for just one army—but two.

The one I still hoped to raise with the desert elves.

Rowen’s deep voice cut through the symphony of hammer strikes and hissing steam. “You are doing great work, Bailon. We will need more arrows and spears, long-range weapons that can be used at a distance.”

He pulled out a worn leather book, its pages filled with weapon designs.

Bailon’s bloodshot eyes studied Rowen’s sketches. “These are excellent designs. We can make them quickly enough, faster perhaps if we streamline this section right here,” he said, pointing to the notebook.

I could see Rowen’s strategic mind turning. “Yes,” he said as their heads bowed over Rowen’s drawings, working together to make the most efficient designs. “That will work with the lightweight tips I designed for speed and distance.”

As they flipped through the pages, Rowen made corrections with his charcoal pencil. After a few more suggestions, my soul flame closed the book and clasped a firm hand on Bailon’s shoulder. “Go and get some rest. I will take over for a few hours.”

“That will be much appreciated,” he said, his voice heavy with fatigue. He gave a grateful nod before he removed his apron and gloves, hanging them on a nearby hook. Though the dark threat looming over us made it hard to rest, Bailon trusted Rowen to keep the hearth fires burning.

As the master bladesmith left the forge, Rowen took his place at one of the stations, his hands gripping the tools with familiarity. “You ready to learn how to forge a blade?”

“Are you sure I won’t get in the way?” I asked, eyeing the blazing hearths, dancing flames, and splashing oil.

“You heard Bailon,” he said with a widening smirk. “We need everyone able to wield a hammer. Plus, it will keep you from biting your fingers. And who knows, maybe you will find a hidden talent.”

I looked at the pre-cut bricks of Ever-burn waiting to be shaped into our salvation. I took a deep breath and stepped beside Rowen, picking up the nearest hammer. “Let’s see if I’m a natural.”

After I put on the protective gear, Rowen walked me through the process step by step. “Grab the metal with the tongs and place it in the forge. Yes, like that,” he encouraged as I followed his instructions. “You want to leave it there until the steel glows yellow.”

I held the tongs with a firm grasp. “I like when you talk me through it,” I said with a side smirk, remembering other activities he had talked me through .

“Eyes on the steel, Copeland. Now, remove the metal and place it on the anvil.”

I jumped back to attention. “Yes, sir,” I replied, carefully following his directions.

“Start with a corner and hammer it into a point. Focus on tapering both sides,” he instructed as I worked the blade, starting at the tip and hammering my way down, shaping it into a knife. “Good girl. Now, flip it over and work the other side.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

Rowen breathed in through his nose, trying to stay focused. “Plunge it into the water to quench it,” he continued, and I stifled a laugh. “Once the steel has cooled and returned to its normal color, place it back in the forge, and repeat the process three times.”

I did as he said, and what started as clumsy apprehension turned into something more.

Something cathartic. I fell into a rhythm, hammering out all the hurt, trauma, and wounds of my past. The heat of my ire matched the temperature of the blade, and with each pound of the mallet, I sharpened my resolve.

The tighter I held onto the hammer, the more I was letting go. The grip I’d held onto my anxieties and depression would now be the grip with which I handled this tool. I was strengthening my mental weapon as I forged a physical one.

My arms ached from the movements, and at this point, I wasn’t sure what was sweat and what was tears. It all hurt as I healed some part of me.

On and on, the hammers fell as the forge filled with the sounds of creation. The flames rose higher, the metal sizzled, and water spilled and splashed.

It was a cathartic release that I hadn’t known I needed.

Rowen guided me as I worked, his watchful eyes flicking from my face to the blade. The molten silver gleamed in his eyes with pride .

As I continued to shape the steel, I forged something deep within my bones. Something that was stronger than any weapon and more balanced than any blade. I strengthened myself.

A week passed in a busy blur. The constant cycle of war planning, discussing, and re-planning was exhausting—not to mention the Hymma journeys and grueling training with Dyani.

Each day, the tremors grew stronger, more violent. It was clear Erovos was biding his time, waiting until every last demon was fully formed to emerge from the crevice.

There was no scenario where Erovos wasn’t planning on conquering this world and all others to come. He had a clear-cut plan, one that he had been preparing for who knew how long. All while we scrambled to keep up.

I looked at the shining blades piling higher on the racks and tables. The Wyn had worked tirelessly to create these weapons. I had to find the desert elves soon. Putting a warrior with every blade was paramount to our war plans. We needed more soldiers.

Despite all the action and constant distractions, there was something I couldn’t shake. Something I was missing. Despite all the progress I seemed to have made, I was no closer to discovering the whereabouts of the desert elves.

Every day I failed to find them felt like another boulder piling on my chest.

My heart lurched as I realized there was one final thing to try. One last path I had refused to walk down. It was so glaringly obvious, yet I avoided it like the plague, hoping I would never have to confront it. But I had exhausted all other avenues. Only one thing remained .

The time had come to talk to Takoda, to try his mind-mending therapy.

The thought alone filled me with fear, but I had to try. The fate of our futures depended on it.

The walk to Takoda’s dome was heavy and filled with trepidation.

With each step, my lungs grew tighter, and my palms dampened.

I’d resisted speaking with the healer for so long, grasping onto some form of independence, or was it stubbornness?

I refused to face the fact that I might need more help, that all answers weren’t within me, or maybe they were, but I couldn’t hear them within my own echo chamber.

If it were pride, there was no place for it in a world hanging on by a thread.

My hands trembled as I reached to knock, but just before my knuckles met the latticed wood, the circular door opened, and Rowen stood in the threshold.

“Are you all right? Is everything okay?” he asked, his eyes wide with concern. I thought he would be finished with his mind-mending therapy by now, but they must have gone over.

“Yes. Everything is fine. I came by to see if Takoda had any time for me today,” I replied, nervously stroking the laces of my vest.

Rowen’s expression softened as his gaze caressed mine.

Takoda peered his head through the door. “For you, star-touched, always. Please come in,” he said as he held the door open for me, his eyes kind and never judging.

Taking a deep breath, I walked past Rowen, my gaze never leaving him. “I love you.”

“I know,” he replied as I crossed the threshold, and I realized I’d never entered Takoda’s dome willingly. I’d always been carried in here while I was unconscious. Somehow, taking the steps for myself filled me with a sense of strength.

The healer’s dome was overflowing with living plants, herbs, and natural medicines. Vines trickled down, and dried plants hovered above. I took in a deep breath, letting the scents fill my lungs. I was finally facing what I could no longer ignore.

“Um,” I said, wringing my hands. “Where should I sit?”

“You can sit anywhere you like,” Takoda said, waving his hand around the room in invitation.

Sitting on the bedroll where I’d been a patient didn’t feel right. There were chairs and stools I could choose instead, but the act of sitting down to speak sent a fresh wave of anxiety up my spine.

I wasn’t afraid of Takoda by any means, but I’d sworn off lying on a couch and gushing my feelings to anyone ever again, but the time had come. And I trusted Takoda with my life.

“Should we go for a walk instead?” the healer asked, somehow sensing my apprehension of sitting down.

I released a heavy breath. “That would be nice.”

We walked the organic pathways that slowly came back to life from the renewed water.

“I’m glad the water is running,” I said to the healer, unsure what else to say.

“It is not just the water that returns life. It is also you,” Takoda replied, noting the glowing flowers that bloomed as I walked by.

“I . . . I might bring life, but I’ve also brought death.

And . . . and I almost killed everyone in the Crypts,” I said, tears burning in my eyes.

I hadn’t said it out loud—hadn’t even really known that was what was affecting me until the words poured out.

“ How can I ever forgive myself for almost killing thousands of people?” I confessed as I let the tears fall; now that they had started, it was too late to stop.

“In the Crypts, when I tried to hit the false queen with my Light, I missed. I swore I wanted to strike her directly, but instead, my blast hit the ceiling and caused a cave-in. I almost killed everyone.”

Takoda walked beside me, matching my pace.

“The spirits could have guided your hand, knowing what was best,” he said, his kind umber eyes sparkling with understanding.

“Did you ever suspect it might have been the gentle brush of an Elder Spirit? That you were meant to bring the Crystal Crypts down? To save everyone trapped within?”

I let out a hiccup. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

The shame had been too thick and heavy to think through. My guilt had shut out any form of rationale.

I had accepted the Elder Spirits help before. The giant, foxlike guardian who had saved me from being ripped and clawed to death in the mangroves. And again when they reforged me as an Ancient Elve.

It made so much sense. The Elder Spirits had been helping me all along the way.

“The Crypts weren’t meant to be escaped,” I barely whispered.

“But you escaped them. Along with freeing everyone imprisoned within their clutches.”

“I was meant to destroy the Crypts?”

“I believe you were,” Takoda said, stopping his strides to face me.

“If you had only hit The False Queen, who knows how the outcome would have differed. There might have been no weakening the wall for Nepta to blast through, or there would have been no rumblings to show her your exact location. Or her followers might have turned on you. You didn’t miss, Keira.

You hit exactly what you were meant to.”

The heavy burden I’d been carrying lifted off me like a weighted cloak, and I took in a breath of guilt-free air. I should have known talking with Takoda would be nothing like talking with my mother.

After one session I wasn’t fully healed, but at least I had taken the first step. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m enough for all this.”

“I’ve seen your abilities with the noxlilies—you revived an extinct plant by bathing it in a celestial light.

You infused seeds of light into barren lands, causing rapid growth and acceleration.

Not to mention the vegetation that sprang from the blood-soaked soles of your footprints.

I suspected your abilities were limited to light and creation.

But the night of the fire, I saw you summon a rainstorm.

You called upon lightning and rain. And you ended a drought.

You are a force to be reckoned with. Never forget that. ”

“Thank you, Takoda, for everything. For not pressuring me when maybe you should have.” I half-laughed and half-cried.

“You cannot force balance. It must be found on its own. I trusted you to know your mind, and you did. You listened to yourself; that is what matters.” His long, silver hair blew across his youthful face, making him appear ageless.

“I need to go to the Hymma now.”

Takoda nodded, his eyes shimmering as if he felt the shift in my demeanor. “Get your soul flame, and it will be ready for you.”