Jace reached for the door, but he stopped. There was no doorknob.

Before he could think twice, the panel of wood automatically slid open sideways with a loud hiss—too loud—and a puff of steam. But he had come this far, and he wasn’t doing anything horribly wrong.

But when he stepped into the building, even the cobblestones seemed to creak under his feet. Every step he took echoed around the room. He held his breath.

The blue glass sword wasn’t the only sword in the forge. Five more colourful glass blades hung on the far wall. If there were five of them, they couldn’t have been that special. He wouldn’t offend anyone horribly if he touched one.

By the time Jace reached the sword, he was light-headed—he hadn’t taken a single breath. He sucked in a quiet gulp of air and forced himself to exhale. After a few breaths, he reached out and ran his finger along the flat of the weapon. A longsword. The leather wrap fit perfectly into his palm, and the crescent-shaped crossguard slid into the curve between his thumb and pointer finger.

When he leaned a little closer, a tag appeared above the sword. [Unnamed Whistling Blade (Spirit Enhancements: None)]

Not all the special, just like the other weapons he’d stumbled across. Without a second thought, Jace lifted it.

The sword screamed. A high-pitched whistle rolled off the blade. When he moved it, the single cutting edge shimmered with vibrant white light, bright enough to sear his eyes—and that was where the whistle came from.

Immediately, he stopped moving. The whistling quieted, and the white glow disappeared.

“Found a Whistling Blade, did you?”

Jace whirled around. The blade shrieked. He held it up, pointing the tapered tip straight ahead as if he knew how to use the weapon. He didn’t.

Standing across the room was…was Lessa? Today, she wore a plain brown blouse and heavy trousers, and with labour, she tugged a small wheelbarrow behind her.

Jace stepped back. He lowered the tip of the sword until it scraped along the cobblestones. The white cutting edge of the blade melted a shallow, red-hot gash in the rock. He gasped, then lifted it up.

“What are you doing here?” she asked him. With a grunt, she pulled the wheelbarrow through the door.

Jace opened his mouth, but he didn’t know how to explain.

“Worldjumper,” she grumbled. “Of course the Whistling Blades called you, like a darkling to fleshwax.”

“I—” Jace hoisted the weapon back up and set it back on the shelf. For a moment, he considered walking away without saying anything. But that would probably be more awkward. He forced himself to ask, “What are you doing here?”

“What, did you think I lived at the Blue Nebula Inn?” Lessa picked up a small shovel—more of a trowel than anything—and reached into the wheelbarrow. She scooped out a shovel-full of pale white coals. The sunlight made them look pearly and iridescent. “I thought I made it pretty clear I had finished my sentence there. Now it’s back to labouring away here with the rest of my family and…doing nothing with my life…”

Jace crossed his arms. He should leave now and head back to Kinfild. The man would wake up any minute. As Lessa turned away with the load of coals, Jace took a step towards the doorway.

She walked back onto the porch and opened a hatch in the bottom of the stove. Whether intentionally or not, she blocked his path. “I guess I can’t be mad at you…your name is Jace, right?”

He stopped and nodded.

“Well, Jace, the Whistling Blades are made for worldjumpers. So you’re in the right place.” She dumped the coals into the stove. They fell onto a glowing blue flame and immediately began combusting, adding shimmering dust and sparks to the plume of smoke.

Jace stared at it, mesmerized.

“Starcoals,” Lessa provided. “They form in the hearts of stars. When they burn, they release hot and volatile fire-aspect Aes. Best source of energy in the galaxy, and the only thing that burns hot enough to make Whistling Glass malleable.” She slammed the hatch shut. “Look, I can’t just let you take the swords. Not without permission.”

“Sorry.” He couldn’t stop himself from looking back at the blades, though. Eventually, he’d need an upgrade. “You made those?”

“Not the swords.” Scoffing, she stepped aside. “I’m the runt of the litter. These twig-arms couldn’t pound steel or Whistling Glass—that’s mom’s job. I just keep the fires going, and occasionally, I do some of the calligraphy etching. Maybe I’ll clean the repeller-bike or organize the shed.”

Jace nodded again. “How do I get one, if they’re made for me? I need permission? From who?”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“My mother, for one. But from the sword itself.”

“The sword…gives me permission?”

“Yep! They’re excellent conduits to spiritual energy, if the blade lets you. The forging process stores so much ambient Aes in the blade that just the act of swinging it releases a bit on the cutting edge. But sometimes, they’ve got a mind of their own. When you can work with their song, that’s when you know you’re using it properly. In other words, it improves as you do.”

“Seemed to work perfectly fine for me.”

“Well, it’ll work better when you listen to it.”

Jace glanced back again. “So I can take it? If it called to me?”

“...No. That’s not up to me.”

He scratched the back of his head. Best not to piss the candlefolk off, especially right now. But at the moment, this looked like one of the best weapons he’d get, and he wasn’t turning his back on it.

Not leaving the planet without it. That’s a promise.

He stepped out the door, inching around Lessa. He’d better be going now. Kinfild would be getting nervous.

“You’re leaving?” Lessa asked.

“Yes.” Jace stepped down off the porch and waded through the fields—back towards the trail.

As soon as he stepped off the porch, a golden sheet whirled up in front of him. [Subquest complete: Investigate forge. Reward claimed: 1 Standard Aes Units].

In response, a puff of golden dust flowed into his chest—hardly noticeable. He kept walking, swishing his hand through the sheet and trying to make it disappear. Eventually, after saying, “Close,” a few times, he finally pushed with enough intent and it faded. He walked faster.

Lessa, however, had followed him. She leaned beside him, sneaking into the corner of his vision. With an exasperated groan, he stopped and planted his hands on his hips. “Would you like something?”

She ran in front of him and walked backwards. “Kinfild has a starship, doesn’t he?”

Jace sighed and continued walking.

“I want to come with you,” said Lessa. “I want to get off this planet. Mom doesn’t think our wares are much good, but I know otherwise. There are plenty of Wielders and magical beings who’d love our whistling glass, and…and—alright, maybe that’s just an excuse. I want to go see things. Happy?”

“That’s up to Kinfild, not me,” Jace said. He didn’t mean to be brusque, but he also didn’t have much time. He offered a placating, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Sure, sure,” she grumbled. “Whatever.”

Jace stepped around her and continued on his way. Whether she followed or not didn’t matter. He retraced his route to the inn, dodging the early-rising candlefolk who walked along the trail as well.

As Jace passed an old watermill, Lessa spoke again: “You’ve got a chance to be really special, you know? A chance to do something amazing with yourself. Not everyone gets that. There’s only one choice now: improve yourself.”

“Is that so?”

“Alright, maybe I read that line in a holocomic somewhere.” Lessa cleared her throat. “I’ve been practicing my abilities. I can be useful, you know.”

Many people had many uses. Jace didn’t know what he would need, nor if it came in the form of another person. He had no reply; ultimately, Kinfild might veto anything he chose.

“Us candlefolk, we can sense the magical capabilities of others.” She took a breath then added quickly, “Given time and concentration, of course, and a little bit of Aes manipulation. Oh, we can also sense if our family members are alive, and a couple other less useful utilities, but…”

That was enough to turn Jace’s head. He fell into step beside her, but didn’t inquire—she’d likely continue with or without being prompted.

“Colour you intrigued, eh?” Lessa asked. “You’ve got a basic technique card, ripped straight from the machinery of a starship. And those Attribute shards—you distributed a couple.”

Jace raised his eyebrows.

“And I can see your attributes and advancement progress, same way a Reader can,” Lessa continued. “The way you put those shards? You’re well on your way to getting a good balanced Path. But, above that, your level rating is…four, now.”

“I’m—”

She leaned in front of him again and said, “Give it a full advancement or so. Get past Foundation One. You’ll get stronger. Then you’ll be able to pick a Path for real, and—”

“I get it, Lessa,” Jace finally said. “Look, I’m not stopping you from coming. But I can’t control what Kinfild says.”

But what she had said still made him curious. He retrieved the Reader and pointed it at himself, then activated it. Not much had changed, save for the Attributes. Both Vital and Resistance had increased by one.

Jace deactivated the reader and dropped it back into the backpack. He crossed his arms. “Now, for the sake of helping you build a case: I have the Reader, plus those golden Split-sheet things. I don’t need to sense my own abilities.”

“No, but how about someone else’s?” she asked. “You encounter a weird creature, or another wizard-cultivator thingy? Can’t just point the reader at ‘em in the middle of a fight. Well, I’m the girl for that! It’d take a bit of explanation, and—” She cut herself off, scrunching her eyebrows. “That doesn’t look good.”

They had reached the top of a hill, but other than that…

Jace wanted to say he couldn’t pick out anything unordinary, but everything was unordinary.

Instead, he stood right beside Lessa and crouched down a little to match her eye level. Then he traced her gaze across the land.

His eyes landed on the nearest windmill. Its neon blades had stopped turning. Two of the four blades had even stopped glowing. A chunk of the cobblestone base had crumbled, and the entire thing was leaning slightly.

“Windmill broke down?” he whispered.

“Look,” she said, pointing up at the top of the windmill. There was a hole in the wooden boards up near the top, and the inside was entirely dark. Two dead eyes glistened in the gloom, and a patch of mangy fur shifted past the opening.

Jace threw his arms down. “Darklings. Of course. Well, glowy sheets? Gonna send me on a quest to go deal with that one?”

Nothing.

But he couldn’t just let the darklings rampage around. Aside from them being dangerous and potentially hurting someone, he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to harvest a little more Aes.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Then we’ll deal with it ourselves.”