3 Not Made For The Forge

Narene wiped her forehead with the back of her palm, eyes trained on the heated furnace and metal bits she'd just put down. It was only thanks to the constant hammerings that her mind didn't wander.

She turned, grabbing her forge hammer as well, ready to help out her father. Today, unlike other days, she felt she wasn't meant for the forge. She felt she wasn't crafted to become a blacksmith, wired to hold the hammer. She felt—believed strongly in her heart and soul—that she was meant for great things. She was blessed by the gods!

Yet she felt caged. Like a bird inside a small box without slits to let in light or air. This reality—as sad as it seemed to her—made her conclude that she'd suffocate soon. She felt she'd die with the potential in her.

This line of thought was completely weakened, broken even, three days ago when she had come face to face with a Haklaran in Zejar forest. With her own eyes she had seen the true purpose and calling of her gift. Someone blessed beyond reasoning.

At that moment, when swords and shields had failed her, she had realised—for the umpteenth time—that she wasn't made for the forge. She wasn't made, like her father was, to be bathed in the heat of the furnace and confined in the small workshop.

Seeing that man cast spells so fluidly made her desire grow and burst. For a time she had forgotten about the danger of the Haklaran and was, instead, focused on the man who—with a single spell—had sent the creature flying as far as possible.

Her hold on the hammer loosened a bit and her father must have noticed this for he called out to her. "'Rene," he said. "Are you feeling alright?"

She shook her head but quickly followed with a nod. "I'm fine, father. I'm just…tired."

"You can take a break and continue later," her father—Jerus—said, wiping his face with the sooth stained towel. "The order isn't ready till next week so we can afford to slack."

Narene shook her head, her grip on the hammer becoming firm again. "I can manage. We might be backed up on requests before we know it."

Jerus nodded but not without giving her a second glance. He turned and hammered down on the metal which now faintly resembled a sword. Narene sighed, pulling her crystal eye shades over her eyes. She pulled the metal out of the furnace with a thong and laid it down. She dexterously hammered down on the red, hot metal, flattening it with each strike of the hammer.

Her mind wandered again. The bright light that covered the area when he cast that spell was so brilliant and she could feel it from where she had been, pulsing with power and radiance. It felt like a force that was untamed, whipping to get free.

'So much power…'

She shook her head, bringing her focus back to the forging process. Her face twisted and she glanced at her father, glad to see that he was engrossed with his own forging. She had ruined the metal!

She took a deep breath. She knew as well as her father that they needed every bit of Lars they could get and ruining a piece of metal was no way to boost the family income. Her father would be mad at her. She held up the metal, looking over it thoughtfully. Then it hit her.

She could try and fix what she'd ruined!

She had the power after all. She pulled off her crystalline eye shade, letting it rest on her forehead. Quietly and subtly, she muttered a spell she'd learnt a few years back. Her eyes turned green, flaring with magical energy. The metal piece glowed green as well, sparks flying off its surface.

Narene was close, very close, but was snapped back to reality by a bellowing voice. "'Rene, stop that now!"

She jolted, the metal dropping out of her hand and her eyes regaining their usual brown. She took a step back, eyeing the piece of metal she'd worked on. It was ruined beyond words. Of course, her magic had failed.

"I'm sorry, father," she said with her head bowed. "It will never happen again."

Jerus shook his head, dropping his hammer. "Forget the metal! Don't ever do what you just did again!"

Her father's tone was commanding yet she could tell the fear in it. "It's who I am, father."

"No, it isn't!" Jerus' voice rose a bit. "What if someone had seen you?"

"Magic is not a taboo in Ramary!" she shot back, teeth gritted and hands balled up.

"No," Jerus shook his head. "But the Holy Emperor knows I can't afford to have those lunatics take you away from me. You have to bury that thing and keep it secret…"

"Till when?"

Jerus opened his mouth but no words came out. In the end he sighed, turning back to his forge. "I forbid you from practicing magic, 'Rene."

"You burnt all the books I was gifted. How can I practice magic?" Narene shot back with the same level of irritation her father used to scold her about magic. "If I had mastered the art early on, I wouldn't have been powerless against the Haklaran!"

Her father dropped the hammer with a thud, biting his lips. "You don't need magic to survive! You have the forge!"

"Oh, like this?" Narene chanted another spell and the piece of metal she'd dropped earlier floated up, melting into thick silvery liquid that floated before her. The silvery liquid then merged to form a sphere. "Like that?"

Jerus ignored her. He took his hammer again and began to hammer on the metal. "We will not discuss this any further."

Narene didn't push any further. She knew it was pointless and would only lead to her having a severe headache. She picked her hammer again but didn't continue with the forging. Her mind was somewhere else.

How had he done it? How could he have been so accurate with his use of magic? Her mind begged for the answer but she knew she had none. Only one person had the answers she sought and he was a few miles from her. This incidence with her father steeled Narene's resolve to pursue her path.

She wasn't made for the forge. No she wasn't. She was meant for something great. She would take her path.

….

The cold air blew into the opened shutters, sending the pieces of paper off the table. Narene, clad in a black robe, picked up the letter she'd just written for her father and placed it on the table then held it down with another book.

She bent under her bed and grabbed her box. Inside she took out several nuggets of metal and stuffed them into her pocket then she retrieved a large book with a magical rune on the cover and put it under her robe as well.

She had made her decision to escape. She knew her father meant well yet she felt he was becoming a hindrance. She would seek out the Hero and go with him.

She gave her room a last glance then jumped out of the window. She landed softly using an air spell that cushioned her fall then she crept along the wall towards the path that led out of her father's house. The moment she reached the end of the path, the street opened up.

Several windows were lit from the lights inside. The light would have been sufficient for her to see till she arrived at her destination yet she cast a light spell, illuminating the street with bright blue light that left her dazed for a few seconds.

She knew someone could've seen her for the light was so bright yet she did it anyway. It might have been her way of announcing her identity as a chosen of the gods or a final announcement of her freedom. She took a deep breath and walked forward.

Her father's house became faint as she moved forward, never looking back. The light worried her slightly. If someone knew she had magic then she'd be forced to spend her days as the Holy Emperor's consort—with the Shattered Knights.