After asking around about Bourick and his smithy, and after delivering a bouquet of winter flowers to Abby’s grave, I found myself walking down an uncanny street with my friends. Nelys had taken the lead, while I watched the buildings as we passed. This part of Linthel was dense—shops and homes built right up next to each other in places. Some buildings were familiar and some weren’t. The effect was similar to missing teeth, and unnerving to my once-solid memories.

Eventually, as the buildings started to thin, I saw a familiar rise of smoke over an unfamiliar roof. Has he still not cleaned that furnace? Or is the smoke black from new buildup.

I smiled at the memory of how miserable I’d felt while cleaning the furnace, but how happy Bourick had been when he’d found out I’d cleaned it. Sure, I’d done the chore to escape from some social event, but I really did enjoy apprenticing there, short as it had been.

We turned slightly past the new building and I caught a glimpse of a familiar storefront. New paint clung to old wood, and the whole place had a cramped sort of feeling that hadn’t been there years ago. Two tall, thin windows laced with wire let light inside, and they let me catch a view of a familiar long counter and a sign flipped to “open.”

“This is the place?” Taava asked, cocking her head.

“Yeah…” I said slowly. It looks just like I remembered it. “Can I… go in alone?”

“You can,” Seyari replied, then turned to Taava and snapped, “What do you mean by that? Do you think it looks run down?” Seyari snapped.

“Huh? No! I think it’s nice actually—I’d buy a blade here… maybe.”

“Would you steal one?” Nelys asked cheekily.

I didn’t hear Taava’s retort. Leaving the others, I walked up and pulled open the door. The handle was new, but the wood was exactly the same. I ducked just in case and stepped inside. Immediately, the smell of coal and iron hit me, and I smiled. Above the door, a bell tinkled.

“Be with you in a minute!” a familiar, masculine voice shouted from the back.

Bourick.

I didn’t hear a sound of metal striking metal, which made sense. Without someone to man the front of the shop, Bourick would never work with hot metal during open hours. I almost strode back there, behind a new-looking counter, but I stopped myself.

No way he’d recognize me.

Instead, I let the door close behind me and walked over to inspect Bourick’s wares. He was never much for weapons, but I couldn’t help but notice a couple daggers placed surreptitiously in the corner. Like he wanted them unseen.

Once again, I was surrounded by the fruits of one man’s practical craftsmanship. Nothing was ornate, nothing was terribly well-organized, but it was all good quality at reasonable prices. In the end, I suppose that’s all it really takes—that and perseverance.

Well, we definitely needed new tent stakes, and I was certain Seyari could use a new whetstone. While browsing the wares stacked behind the counter, I heard footsteps from the back, followed by Bourick’s voice.

I forced myself not to look. It wouldn’t do for a stranger to get emotional. A glance outside told me the others were still waiting; Seyari and Taava looked to be having a heated discussion while Nelys and Joisse looked on awkwardly.

“Alright! How… can I help you?” Bourick paused, probably when he got a good look at me. “Human” me, even if only a centimeter or two taller than before, tended to have that effect.

I steeled myself and turned around. Bourick stood there, his big arms on the counter and an easy smile on his face. His red hair had streaks of gray and was cut shorter around a more severe widow’s peak than I remembered. A scar zigzagged under one eye, but it missed the bright blue orb that looked up at me.

I caught myself staring and coughed, hoping fervently my mask didn’t slip, that my voice didn’t crack. “Hi! I’d like four large tent stakes, and to take a look at your whetstones.” I almost said his name.

“Sure!” Bourick laughed, and nostalgia washed over me.

Here’s someone from my old life who’s not dead. He’s not gone, and he’s hardly changed.

“Was a little worried you’d come in looking for a weapon. Might’ve done a stint during the war, but I’m no swordsmith despite what people seem to say.” Bourick chuckled. “Course or fine whetstone?”

I couldn’t stop a small smile. Hasn’t changed at all. “A course one and a semi-fine one, please. The semi-fine one will see more use.”

Bourick nodded. “Sure thing.”

I thought more about Seyari’s ancient sword. “Oh, the course one will be used on a magicked blade.”

The smith took another look over my uniform. “A rough encounter then? Not much that’ll damage a magicked blade.”

“You could say that.” I tried to lean against the counter, but found it awkwardly low.

“Hmm. I’ll go see what I have. Pick out any tent stakes you’d like in the meantime.” Bourick waved as he retreated around the wall to his smithy.

He used to be so tall. Barely even comes up to my shoulder now…

I looked over what he had and figured out what I wanted. When he returned with two whetstones and set them behind the counter, I pointed at the stakes in question.

“How many?” Bourick turned around.

“Four,” I replied, then carefully slipped the knife blade out and set it on the counter.

When Bourick turned back, stakes in hand, he saw the knife and froze. Slowly he looked up and met my eyes.

“I found this in a special place. Figured I should take it back to its maker. If it’s all the same, I’d like to get a handle fitted.” I slid the blade, tang first, over to the smith.

He rested a single callused finger on it, not taking his gaze off my face. His eyes were searching, and there was something under the surface: a question of sorts.

My composure broke and I looked away sheepishly. “I, uh, recognized your work. You bend a lot of tangs when you work fast, but you never hide mistakes so you had me make curved handles. They sold well and you started doing it on purpose. Looks like you’ve kept it up even after all these years.”

Bourick was quiet, and I risked glancing back in his direction. His eyes were wet.

My soft smile spread across my entire face even as I felt tears forming. “Hi Bourick. It’s been a while.”

The now-old smith’s eyes went wide. “By Dhias…”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “D-did my sister say anything?”

“How…” he muttered. “A friend, perhaps from the academy… I didn’t think—it can’t…”

I glanced back at the door to Bourick’s shop. I made my decision quickly. “I want to tell you everything if that’s okay. Maybe I shouldn’t, but I don’t care.”

Bourick stopped mumbling, looking up at me. “I can take my lunch now.”

I nodded, and watched him move to the door. Through the tall window opposite the open sign, Seyari caught my eyes. I let her see my smile and she nodded discreetly before turning back to the others. I knew where to meet later.

Let’s hope this goes well… What I wouldn’t give to see Tania today.

Bourick flipped the open sign to “closed” and turned back to me after locking the door. He met my eyes for a moment before closing his and turning toward his smithy in the back. “We can talk in the smithy. No prying ears there.”

I followed meekly, glancing at the knife blade, whetstones and tent stakes still on the counter. “I do still want the whetstones and tent stakes: they’re really things we need.”

“We?” Bourick asked.

I winced. “Yeah. My…” I paused. Employees? Coworkers? Friends? “My friends and I in the company need them.”

“The Gelles Company, huh?” Bourick said softly. “Never took you for the type… if it’s really you.”

I rubbed the back of my head awkwardly and followed him around the corner. “Yeah, well, things—”

I cut off as soon as I saw the room. Bourick’s shop had changed. Bourick had changed—a little. This room hadn’t. Everything from the tools on neat pins on the wall to the forge to one side looked exactly like I’d just walked out after a day’s work and come back the next morning.

In fact, it looked a lot like my last memory when I’d died. The one where… where Abby told me goodbye. I took a deep breath and leaned one shoulder against the end of the wall.

I took a deep breath. I’ve made my peace.

Haven’t I?

I wiped at my eyes. This room was supposed to be happy, bittersweet at worst. I found myself here—the real me—without really even knowing. Abby taught me to see who I was on the very bricks of this floor, right by the shutters that opened for air flow when the forge was in use.

And we said our farewells here, in a way.

Funny how this room I haven’t thought about in years is almost more important than the home I lived at for all my life. I didn’t have to hide here, or at the fort, or in the woods.

“Are you alright?” Bourick asked, sitting down on the edge of a table.

I nodded and took another deep breath. “I’ll be fine. Just… memories. That’s all.” I stepped forward and sat at the table across from him. My feet could almost touch the ground.

The smith frowned. “If you say so.” He shifted his posture straighter and regarded me carefully. “What’s going on miss…”

“Miller,” I replied. “Zarenna Miller.”

Bourick sucked in breath between his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. “Miller…”

“I nodded. Kartania Miller is my sister. It’s… a long story.”

“I don’t recall her having a sister.”

“I don’t recall her having a brother.”

Both of Bourick’s eyebrows went up. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that I had a lot to process when I was growing up. A lot of things I pushed down and away. Abby showed me myself—here actually. She was visiting with Miss Meissner, looking for metal buttons and came back here while you talked to a customer in the front.”

Bourick shook his head. “That’s familiar, but I can’t say I remember the exact day.”

“Why would you?” I snapped, then continued in a softer tone. “Sorry, just… that day was really important to me.”

Bourick gave me another look. “Your hair and eyes match, but that’s not uncommon. Your height though, I didn’t know magic could do that.” He spoke in a tone that I took to mean more or less that he suspected something.

Well he’s not totally wrong.

“Before we continue, could you tell me if my sister Tania left a message for me with you? I found the blade in a hollow in the tree we used to climb with Abby as kids.”

Bourick closed his eyes and drew his lips into a line. “I’m not cut out for all this intrigue crap.”

“So…?” I leaned forward.

“No. Not until I know what’s going on.”

“Didn’t she say something like ‘tell this to the person who brings the blade back’ or something?”

I felt a flare of anger from Bourick, steady like a glowing forge. I resisted probing the emotion.

“Not yet.”

“Is it because I told you who I am?”

“Yes.”

I gritted my teeth and sighed. “Fine, sure. It’s not a secret anymore anyway—the Gelles Company knows.”

I waited for his reaction. He didn’t give me one.

“I visited my grave yesterday. The one that reads ‘Zacharias Miller.’ My parents, too. And Abigail Hunter’s. Human Zarenna died in the Great Linthel Fire, but I didn’t die in the fire. Like Abby, I was murdered.”

Bourick’s fury stoked itself. “Liar! I saw the body. Burned to a crisp, he was.”

“The last thing I felt after a sword went through me was a burning sensation, so that makes sense.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Makes sense?”

“Abby and I were running out that late because we’d snuck off to go to the old fort ruins. You have to remember that you saw us in the square by the river.”

“I did,” the old smith heaved a shuddering sigh. “Not chasing Zach and Abby down’s been my biggest regret this past decade. Who do you think buried the pair?”

Bourick’s words put a lance through my heart. “Y-you buried me?”

“If you were him, then yes, I did. No living next of kin, so I was the closest who was capable.”

“I… thanks, Bourick.”

My former tutor’s face softened for a moment. “Keep going.”

I nodded once. “We got to our houses and found that Abby’s nan had been murdered and her parents were burned—perhaps after they died. In my house, we found Tania hiding—or, rather, she found us. She told us my parents had died fighting.”

“In the back…” I continued and took a shaking breath, forcing myself to relive that night yet again. We’ve said our goodbyes. “In the back, Abby got grabbed and killed, and then Tania and I ran. I’d twisted my ankle jumping the barricade earlier and it gave out in the plaza by the well. Finley was there in dark robes.

“I told Tania to run and ran at Finley screaming bloody murder to try to give her time. I didn’t make it to him and the guy who killed Abby killed me. I don’t even remember his face very well…”

“What about burning?”

I placed a hand over my sternum and toyed with the buttons there.

“Miss?”

“I’m not going to do anything indecent.” I pulled the top of my shirt open just enough to show my symbol. My green tinged crimson gem shone even in the dim light of the room, almost glowing. Is it brighter than before?

“What is that? Is that gem buried in your skin?”

“The symbol around the gem is what’s most important here, Bourick. Abby and I found a necklace in the old fort, and she gave it to me before I died. I was wearing it, and I think my death with the amulet messed with whatever ritual Finley was doing.”

“I do remember Carvalon’s guard went on a hunt for him and his cronies right after the fire.”

Right after the fire?

“Yes.”

Oh, I said that out loud.

“Why?”

Bourick shrugged. “He had evidence Finley was responsible. There were witnesses, too.”

That’s awfully convenient, isn’t it.

“I… thanks for telling me that.”

“Why?”

“Because, while it’s no longer my top priority, I’m chasing after Finley.”

“I… see.”

“You don’t think that’s wrong?” I tilted my head. “I’m going to kill him, you know.”

Bourick gave a harsh smirk. “Wrong? He deserves it. I don’t care who you actually are, but if you kill him, then good riddance I say!” He cleared his throat. “But that still doesn’t explain why you’re here if you died, what you meant by interrupting the ritual, or why you’re as tall as my shop’s door.”

“There’s a single answer to all three: I became a demon of wrath, hellbent on getting revenge. I’m mostly past the ‘hellbent’ part now, though.”

Bourick chuckled, though I could have sworn it seemed nervous. “Don’t joke about that.”

“I’m not.” I unbuttoned the extra sleeves of my uniform. “These aren’t decorations. I have four arms and was tired of destroying all my clothes. This hasn’t fixed the problem, but it’s a lot better now.”

The smith stared at the sleeve I was holding up.

“Dhias…” I covered my face with one hand. “Why is this always the same awkward crap every time I have to do this? I wish it wouldn’t cause so many problems if I just didn’t use my human transformation, but nooooo.”

Bourick chuckled. “That sounded familiar.”

“Wait, do you believe me?”

“It’s either you or someone Kartania trusts enough to tell everything to.” He seemed to relax a little. “It’s Zarenna now, right?”

“Wait… it can’t be this easy.” I shook my head in disbelief. “It never goes this well. Don’t I need to show you my true form?”

“If it won’t damage my shop, then go ahead.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Tania told you more than you let on.”

The old smith grunted in acknowledgement. “She did. Said I should have a magic weapon in case a demon came knocking.”

I activated my aura sight. Sure enough, Bourick had a faint glow of magic weapon around the edges of his back. “So why put me through all this?”

“Personal reasons: I wanted to know. To be honest, I also didn’t entirely believe Kartania’s claim.”

“Do you now?”

“I’m not sure.”

I ended my human transformation and smiled. “How about now?”

To his credit, Bourick only flinched a little. “Y-yeah. I believe you now.”

“Great!” I clapped all four hands together. “Can I get Tania’s message now?”

Bourick took a moment to calm himself down again. “Not just that, but I have something for you. I don’t know why I’ve held onto it for so long, but Abby’s nan gave it to me the night of the fire to give to you the next day.”

“Bourick…” I whispered, feeling tears start again.

The old smith stood up and walked to a shelf behind me. He clapped me on the shoulder on the way by. “Glad you’re alive and back in Linthel, even if you’re just passing through.”

I smiled at the warmth of his touch. “Me too.”