Chapter 87

We gathered in the bailey as Ashlara built the bonfire with the same focus she brought to battle.

She stacked the logs in careful, alternating layers - four feet high - leaving space for air to breathe between them. Kindling filled the heart of it, stuffed with precision and intent. When she finally stepped back, satisfied, Serah leaned forward and released the faintest breath of flame.

That was all it took.

Fire swallowed the structure in an instant, racing upward in a roaring pillar that leapt nearly twenty feet into the night. Heat rolled over us in a wave. Sparks spiraled into the dark like newborn stars.

We stood back, faces lit gold and amber, all of us a little awed.

I felt the tingle of Faith before I saw her.

Snow stirred behind us. A pale shape rose from it as though the earth itself exhaled her into being.

Yveth stepped free of the frost.

Her white hair was braided with meticulous care, falling to her waist. Instead of her usual gray, she wore a dress of the palest blue, stitched with tiny white snowflakes that caught the firelight. The kohl around her eyes was still streaked from tears - but faded, as if she’d tried to wash it away and failed.

I smiled.

She returned it - soft, restrained, a little unsure.

“Welcome,” I said quietly. “Come join us. The celebration isn’t over.”

Her gaze drifted over my family - lingering on the children, the fire, the warmth - before settling back on me. She moved toward us, her steps almost gliding across the frost.

Before she could speak, Mirri burst from the keep carrying the largest cup we owned, steam curling from the top.

“The Shared Cup!” she announced dramatically. “For those of you who don’t know, we pass it around. Each person tells a story about Seth. When you’re done, you take a sip and pass it on. If there’s anything left at the end, he gets to drink it. If not? No more drinks for him until tomorrow!”

I groaned. “That’s extortion.”

“It’s tradition,” she shot back with a grin. “We’ll start with the ones who’ve known you longest and work down. Stories can be anything. How he tripped in battle. How you met. How he tripped in battle. Something funny he did. How he tripped in battle…”

“You’re really fixated on that,” I said.

“It happened a lot,” she replied sweetly. “Ashie. You’re up.”

Ashlara accepted the cup, clearly uncomfortable under so many eyes.

“I met Seth when I was hunting Mother Hunger,” she said quietly. “I guess he had just gotten here. He was dressed… very strangely.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “I used him as bait to draw her swarm. He fell down.”

Laughter rippled around the fire.

She took a quick sip and handed the cup back.

Mirri took it next.

“I had a vision of Seth when I was twelve,” she said. “Ashie, Serah, and Yveth too - but I didn’t recognize any of them when I met ’em. I was on my way to Northgate when this asshat named Hek grabbed me. Dragged me to Wolfsend. Wanted to sell me.”

Her eyes softened.

“Then this dirty, ugly, stinky guy shows up and tells Hek to **** on a cock. Bravest, stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.” She grinned. “Hek beat him up. And he fell down.”

More laughter.

She drank and passed the cup to Serah.

Serah gazed into the fire before speaking.

“My father is cruel,” she said softly. “I fled the safety of his lair and disguised myself like this. I had never known anyone but dragons. They’d always treated me well because my father was feared. A man offered me shelter. He was vile and tried to steal my fire. Ashlara, Mirri, and Seth found me. Ashlara nearly died when he turned my fire against her. But my fire did not burn Seth. He stood in it. Unharmed.”

Her cheeks flushed faintly.

“He was… invincible.”

She drank and handed the cup to Adhaneth.

The silver-winged woman blinked, surprised. “I was next?”

Mirri nodded eagerly.

“I do not remember the first time I met him,” Adhaneth said softly. “What I remember first was rage. Hatred. It woke me from my long sleep. I was afraid. But in the darkness I saw a flicker of Faith - small, but unyielding. Even in pain, he fought. And I know he will never stop fighting for those he loves.”

She took a delicate sip and passed the cup along.

“Grams!” Mirri called.

Grams snorted and took it.

“Mirri shows up after two years gone with Ashlara, Serah, and this lummox,” she said. “Says he’s a Nomad. I think, ‘Oh, poor foolish girl.’ Turns out he’s the real thing.” She cackled. “I’d had a vision too. Didn’t see his face, but I knew he’d give me great-grandchildren. And somehow, he did.”

She slung an arm around Issa and took a drink.

Lilae approached next, small hands wrapping around the cup.

“My vaer-thren died,” she whispered. “I was sad all the time. Then trolls took me to the mountains. I was scared. I thought they’d eat me, but they just made me sit in a corner. I was hungry and cold and sad and scared.” Her lip trembled. “Then Vaer and Thren and Serah came. And I wasn’t sad scared anymore.”

She drank and handed the cup to Yveth.

The goddess looked down at it for a long moment.

“I had hidden myself away from those I had cared for,” she said, her voice returning to its mournful cadence. Her eyes momentarily flicked to Adhaneth “Sorrow that was not mine alone had consumed me. When Seth entered my lair, I considered destroying him for trespassing.” A faint, almost embarrassed pause. “I did not. Perhaps I saw sorrow in him too. Since then, I have found him thoughtful, compassionate, and powerful beyond reason.”

She drank and passed the cup back.

“Torvek, you’re up, big guy!” Mirri said.

“Actually,” I cut in, “Tib is next. He stole my money pouch to lure me into the alley. Then I met Torvek, Brinja, Issa, Elarion, and Mak. In that order,” I winked at them.

Torvek handed the cup over.

“Seth is funny,” Tib said earnestly. “And he doesn’t make fun of me for being the littlest. He was scary at first. But not anymore. I didn’t think I’d ever have parents again. But you’re the best family I could ever have.”

He took a huge gulp and passed it to Torvek.

Torvek cleared his throat, cheeks burning.

“When we were kidnapped, I thought we’d die. Humans just watched while we were chained up.” His jaw tightened. “Then a fight broke out. Some of them fell off a balcony. One of ’em got up and fought the others. I saw him die. Grabbed that thing that turned people into skeletons.” He swallowed. “I didn’t trust him. Humans only hurt people like us. But… he was different.”

He drank and passed the cup to Brinja.

“I didn’t believe Torvek when he said he saw Seth in the market.,” she said. “Ashlara broke our chains. Serah dug us out. But we all saw Seth die. And then Ashlara and Serah disappeared. We were on our own, hiding from the guards who just wanted to kidnap us again. But Seth wanted to help us. He gave us all the money he had. And he protected us when the guards showed up. And gave us a home. And a family.”

She sniffed and drank.

Issa accepted the cup.

“Seth listens,” she said quietly. “He doesn’t treat us like children. He respects us. He’s silly. He sings strange songs and uses his magic to turn them into a whole performance. But he can also sit in silence. Sometimes he sits beside me and says nothing. He knows when I don’t want to talk. But he stays.”

She drank and passed it on.

Elarion straightened.

“Ashlara teaches us to fight. Mirri teaches magic. Serah teaches history. Seth doesn’t hold lessons. But he teaches us to be brave. To do the right thing.”

He drank and handed it to Mak.

Mak shrugged meekly. “Everyone said what I was gonna say. Seth is strong and brave. He’s a good father. He saved us. Happy birthday.”

She drank and passed it to Elise.

Elise froze.

Her hands trembled. Her breathing quickened. Tears filled her eyes. She squeezed them shut, then suddenly pushed the cup back into Mak’s hands and vanished into my demesne.

Mirri looked at me, worried.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “I’ll check on her later.”

Mak handed me the cup.

“There’s still some left,” I said, relieved. I drank it down - fruity, cooled, heavy with cinnamon - and I raised the cup high.

Everyone cheered.

“Now dancing!” Mirri shouted.

“Wait,” I said. “Can we finish my thing first?”

She grinned. “Fine.”

We went inside and gathered the paper lanterns.

Everyone held the one they’d painted. I handed Yveth the one I’d made.

At the base of each, I’d secured a small candle. One by one, I lit them with a whisper of magic.

“Where I’m from,” I said, “people make these for celebrations. They’re called sky lanterns. They’re supposed to bring good luck.”

I stepped behind Mirri and guided her hands upward.

“Let go slowly.”

She did.

The lantern lifted gently into the air.

Gasps.

Laughter.

“Now everyone else.”

They released theirs.

The lanterns rose together, drifting upward. When they neared the bonfire, the updraft caught them and sent them soaring high into the night sky.

We watched in awe as they floated over the trees - fourteen tiny stars climbing into the dark.

Mirri clapped and bounced, laughing.

I stomped my foot three times. Drums thundered into existence around us as my magic flared and I began humming a wild, joyful tune.

“Now,” I shouted, grinning, “we dance!”

* * *

“Nyssira,” rumbled Urzan-Brak, his voice like boulders grinding beneath a mountain.

He drove the bellows down one final time. The great forge roared in response, flames surging white-hot. Buried in the coals lay an enormous blade of dark metal, its surface glowing an angry red.

The woman of parchment smiled, the ever-shifting constellation of her face exploding into a curved nebula. “Urzan-Brak,” she replied smoothly. “It has been some time.”

She drifted along the racks of weapons - swords, axes, spears - her fingertips brushing their edges as though they were beloved pets. Ink traced faint sigils along her pale, fibrous skin as she approached him.

“There is a reason for that,” the hunched beast of slag and iron said.

Without hesitation, he plunged his hand into the coals.

The metal hissed as he grasped the molten blade barehanded. Smoke curled from his grip, but he didn’t flinch. He laid it across the anvil and lifted a hammer.

“Don’t be like that,” Nyssira chided, circling him. Her fingers trailed across his warped, melted back, gliding over ridges of fused iron and scarred stone. “We once worked together quite beautifully.”

The hammer fell.

Sparks erupted in a violent cascade, spraying across the forge like dying stars.

“What do you want, witch?” he growled, bringing the hammer down again. Each strike rang like a war drum.

“You were never one for pleasantries,” she said lightly, though her smile did not reach her eyes.

Another strike. The blade screamed beneath the hammer.

“I have come to collect.”

The hammer stopped mid-swing - an inch above the glowing steel.

The forge crackled.

“You promised me a boon,” she continued softly, stepping closer. “In exchange for my silence regarding your… indiscretions.” Her fingers tapped lightly against his shoulder. “It is time to honor that promise.”

The hammer resumed its arc - but slower.

“And what,” Urzan-Brak rumbled without turning, “do you require?”

Nyssira’s parchment skin seemed to ripple as she leaned nearer, her voice lowering to a silken whisper.

“I need a blade.”

He struck again.

“Small,” she said. “Light.”

Another strike.

“Necromium.”

The hammer hesitated.

“Something that slips through armor,” she finished, her lips curving, “as though it were butter.”

Silence filled the forge save for the low roar of flame.

“A godslayer,” Urzan-Brak said at last.

Nyssira’s smile widened, slow and deliberate.

“Yes,” she purred, her voice sultry and smooth.