In the opposite direction to academy, in the heart of the capital was where the female black smith worked on the Blade.
Rhea stood in the centre of the forge, hair bound back, skin shining with sweat and heat. She was surrounded by Anvil's hammer's, cooling oils. In front of her lay her current project. Almost complete. The air around it thrummed but not with sound of striking hammers but with resonance of the metal.
On the anvil lay the heart of what would become Arata's weapon: a dull piece of obsidian-black steel veined with faint traces of blue. It pulsed every so often, faintly, like a creature drawing its first uncertain breaths.
The flames were white-hot, licking the crucible in geometric spirals that followed Rhea's heartbeat. Sparks rose, hovered, and fell again like fragments of language. She matched the rhythm of the metal until her shoulders trembled.
She hit her hammer once, then again and again until her grip wavered. Her grip slipped, the hammer head sagged.
A second hand closed over hers it was steady, calloused and familiar.
Darwin's voice, low near her ear, "Easy. Breathe with it."
She didn't turn. She didn't have to. The warmth of him pressed along her back, the weight of his chest against her shoulders, guiding the next swing. Together they lifted the hammer. His breath brushed the side of her neck as he counted the pulse between strikes.
"Once… twice…" The hammer came down. Metal rang like a bell.
The sound filled the forge it was bright, clear, whole. The tremor in her arms vanished beneath the steadiness of his own.
Rhea smiled, sweat running down her temple. "You shouldn't be here" she whispered.
"You want me to leave?" As his other hand fount it's way around her waist. "You'd collapse without me" he murmured, not quite teasing. His hand lingered on hers a heartbeat too long before he stepped back.
"Then don't leave yet" she said, and he didn't.
They worked like that it was two silhouettes against the fire. Her body guiding the craft, his strength keeping the rhythm when hers faltered. Between strikes there was no talk, only breath shared and the quiet knowledge of years of battles survived together, the quiet chemistry between the two. The smell of oil and iron couldn't hide the faint trace of his skin on hers, or the way she leaned into him when the hammer grew too heavy.
When the last blow fell, the anvil sang. A low, perfect tone that made the air shimmer.
Rhea set the hammer down, chest rising and falling. Darwin stayed close, his hand still braced at her waist in case her knees gave out. Neither spoke for a long while.
The blade on the anvil glowed faintly, veins of blue light crawling across its surface. A faint sound could be heard from the blade, the first coo's of a newborn baby.
"He's waking" she breathed.
"I know" Darwin said, his voice gentler than the fire's hiss. "You've been calling him for days."
The metal pulsed again. Sparks scattered in slow spirals.
Rhea looked at him then, really looked. His eyes reflected the same blue as the blade, weary but alive. "It senses you too" she said.
He gave a small, lopsided smile. "Maybe it's jealous."
She laughed, soft and tired, and leaned briefly into his shoulder. "It need not be. I only ever forge one kind of miracle."
Darwin's arm found its way around her for a moment. It was steadying, protective. "And every one of them costs you" he said.
"It's worth the price."
"Not from where I stand."
They turned back to the anvil together. The blade's hum deepened; the forge answered. When Rhea's hands trembled again, Darwin's hands came to rest over hers once more, guiding the hammer for the final stroke. Their movements were one rhythm it was her precision and his power.
The hammer fell. It was the twentieth strike, and with that strike, it felt as if the world finally took it's breath.
A single, sharp click echoed from the metal.
Both froze. Rhea met his eyes. "The lock" she said quietly. "It's found its bearer."
"Congratulation on another divine creation my love" Darwin whispered in here ears.
...
The air above the Academy was quiet except for the faint roll of thunder somewhere far east.
Arata stood in his dorm, staring out the window as the Veins beneath the courtyard continued their faint red glow. His hand itched again, the markings under his skin glowing faintly blue with each heartbeat.
"You are active again?" Arata said as he glanced at his hand.
"What are you doing?" Wanuy asked him.
"Nothing. The hand was itching." Arata said as he holster his right hand up.
"Ohh, well I am gonna go to sleep, tomorrow finally the might teach us how to channel our powers."
Wanuy had been a lot more excited for the Academy after the affirmation rites. Arata still hadn't understood what had truly happened to him in there.
The knock on his door was soft, but it pulled him instantly back.
"Who could it be at this time?" Wanuy said as he got up from his bed.
Darwin's voice. "Open up, Mister Asshole. I'm not leaving this thing in the hallway."
Arata sighed and unlatched the door. Darwin stood there with a long black case balanced across both arms. His usual grin was subdued tonight; there were lines around his eyes that hadn't been there before.
"Is it Flint?" Wanuy asked from his bed.
"It's a friend of mine." Arata answered.
"Friend huh??" Darwin said as he gave Arata a big smile. At that moment Arata regretted saying that.
"Wha's in the box?" Arata asked, though the hum in his hand already knew.
"First let me meet my junior. Let me say Hi to him.." Darwin said as invited himself in.
Darwin's eyes flicked past Arata the moment he stepped inside.
The room was small, utilitarian it had two beds, two desks, a single window looking out over the courtyard glow. Wanuy sat on his mattress, blanket half-pulled up, posture straight in a way that felt rehearsed.
Too neat. Darwin's grin lingered for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then softened.
"And you must be the roommate" he said easily. "Wanuy, right?"
Wanuy stood up from his bed and saluted, "Sir. Yes, Sir."
Darwin paused. Sir?
He stepped further in, resting the black case gently against the wall before offering his hand. "Darwin. Just Darwin."
Wanuy shook it at once.
"Late night?" Darwin asked casually.
Wanuy nodded. "Yes. Tomorrow the curriculum advances. I would like to be rested."
Darwin glanced sideways at Arata, just briefly.
"Funny" Darwin said. "Most cadets your age hear advanced curriculum and stay up talking about it."
Wanuy tilted his head. "That would be inefficient."
There it was. The qualities of a soldier were shining through, and no humanitarian quality could be perceived.
Darwin withdrew his hand slowly. "And how are you finding the Academy?" he asked, tone still light.
Wanuy considered the question longer than expected. Not searching—selecting. "It is functioning as intended" he said. "The structure is reassuring."
That was just wrong to hear from anyone's mouth, The Academy usually had a 50 percent mortality rate at the starting day, if he was fine with the functionary of the Academy that would mean he was okay with death.
Darwin exhaled through his nose. "Is it."
Arata shifted. "Wanuy—"
"I'm fine," Wanuy said immediately. "The reaffirmation helped."
The word landed wrong.
Darwin's eyes sharpened, it was not with anger, but recognition. He'd heard that phrasing before. From soldiers pulled back from the edge. From people who survived something by becoming smaller. Those who had lost faith in the The Flame and the system.
"Helped with what?" Darwin asked.
Wanuy blinked. "With alignment of course."
Silence stretched.
Darwin nodded slowly. "Right."
He turned away, pretending to inspect the room, but his shoulders had gone rigid.
When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "Kid," he said, "what did it cost?"
Wanuy frowned in confusion. Genuine confusion. "Cost?" he repeated. "Nothing of value."
That did it.
Darwin straightened and faced Arata fully now. The humour was gone from his eyes. "What happened here. What happened in the first two months?" Darwin asked Arata.
That did it.
Darwin straightened and faced Arata fully now. The humour was gone from his eyes.
"What happened here" he asked quietly, "what happened in the first two months?"
Arata didn't answer at once.
He looked at Wanuy. At the way his friend sat—upright, composed, eyes calm in that unsettling, curated way. Then he looked back at Darwin.
"There was a girl" Arata said. "Her name was Flora."
Darwin didn't interrupt.
"She was cheerful," Arata continued. "Too cheerful for this place. She laughed during drills. Talked when she shouldn't have. Sang, sometimes.. softly, when she thought no one was listening."
Wanuy frowned faintly. "I remember her."
Arata nodded. "She had trouble with resonance. The Vein scared her. But she kept trying. Every day."
His jaw tightened. "She was one of the first persons i talked to after getting here. On day I was sent to the vein works for a routine check."
Arata then revealed his right palm. It glowing blue , resonating with the hum of the box. "In the vein works I accidentally touched a live vein."
"After I got back, I kept this a secret. Then one day, we were called for a residual resonance echo test."
His fingers curled slowly."She started screaming. She was scared to go there. She had told me the previous night, she had confessed to me."
The room felt smaller.
"She kept saying it was learning her voice. That it was copying her."
"When the containment failed," Arata said, "there was nothing left. No body. No blood. Just… dust. Red dust. Like the Vein had decided she was finished."
Silence followed.
Darwin exhaled slowly through his nose. "And they called it—"
"An acceptable loss," Arata said flatly. "They said she'd been reclaimed."
Wanuy lowered his gaze.
"That wasn't the end of it," he went on. "After that, they held a demonstration in the chapel. To reassure the cadets. To show us how faith stabilises resonance."
Darwin's eyes narrowed. "Who demonstrated?"
"Nebula," Arata replied. "She synchronised perfectly. Calmed the Vein like it was nothing."
"And you?"
Arata lifted his bandaged hand slightly. "After the demonstration ended. I did the opposite."
Darwin went still.
"I didn't mean to," Arata said. "I just… didn't obey. I didn't try to match it. I let it do whatever it wanted."
"And?"
"The containment sphere collapsed," Arata said. "Not violently. It folded in on itself. Like the Vein couldn't decide how to exist around me."
Wanuy looked up sharply. "That's when the alarms started."
Darwin closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, something old and dangerous lived there.
"And after that?" he asked.
"They investigated" Arata said. "Evaluations. Interrogations. Reaffirmation rites."
He glanced at Wanuy. "They said he was misaligned."
Wanuy nodded. "I was."
Darwin held up a hand. It as not to silence, but to pause. He took a breath, steadying himself.
Then he spoke. "Alright" he said quietly. "Now it's my turn."