Many consider FaeTech's Serums to be the undisputed ruler of the arm's industry. Perhaps true, but this was never in volume but merely in cost and demand.

Many forget that Cybernetics and more classical weaponry come in a rather close second, whether all-crafted or purely nat-tech.

The world considers Fae Humans to be the enforcers of its rules, but it is we, titled Inventors and Craftsmen, who grant them the tools that allow it all.

The world forgets, and we let them, for we are more than happy to enforce our rules from behind the curtain.

After all, who else can mold Fae materials into tools that would bolster even an Iota mortal? Who else could forge to meet individual requirements of Gamma and above?

Who, but we the All-Crafters?

–World Mandate of All-Crafters, established by Founding Corporate Members, Vulcan Industries and Einhar Enterprises.

***

Miles was unsure of the chances, but he had just retreated from the path ahead, to discover a secluded crack in a nearby cold iron wall he had overlooked before.

Curiously peering through, what he had found was another cavern inside of it. A perfect resting place for him to bunker down and prepare, just before encountering the horde of rats that waited ahead.

The discovery was coincidental to the point he feared it was a trap, but this cavern had multiple exits. Besides the entrance, another two distinct cracks within led to two different hallways. So, he had quickly wandered through and explored, confirming with Cadmus’ assistance that they led to completely different areas of the maze.

Even if an ambush were to happen, he would not be easily cornered here.

It still felt orchestrated, but perhaps not to his detriment….

Either way, that was how Miles ended up leaning against the almost familiar cavernous rock, frowning at the shards of broken cold iron he had gathered.

To be honest, he hadn't really thought about it.

He hadn’t intentionally given up forging, or all-crafting. He just never found a reason to practice, and he just never forged again. It just happened naturally…

It had been so long since he had tried, but now, looking down at the material, inspiration came like flowing water. A cascade of ideas on how he could use the limited materials he had access to.

Miles chose the best of them.

First, he rearranged five roughly flat sheets of cold iron he had managed to break off of a wall. With one placed at the base, the others around and at the top, it formed a rough cuboid container.

Since there was no industrial machinery to fuse them together, he would have to literally melt the cold iron by hand. The third enchantment frame would not be wasted at all.

“Cadmus, activate Heating Touch, approximately 2000 degrees Celsius.”

The Lykaon ring flickered with a blazing orange light, the eyes of the wolf-head taking on a sinister visage. The light moved, little by little, shifting over to the tip of his ring finger. It faded, to an almost imperceptible fiery hue, and were it not for the distorting air, none would note the deadly heat.

Miles could feel his lack of practice as he melted too much off of a few cold iron sheets, ruining them and thus being forced to search for replacements. Fortunately, cold iron was quite common here and he did not have to spend much time ripping off what he needed from the walls.

Just an hour or so later, he wiped his brow with the non-enchanted hand, staring down at the rough and tumble cold iron container he had managed to ‘weld’ together.

It was hideous, probably one of his worst forged tools, but… he was sure his mother would have given it a thumb-up, nonetheless.

Because it would still get the job done.

Miles had forgotten how cathartic forging could be. Perhaps… he should not have given up the practice. Well, he wouldn’t have, had it not been for–

He shook his head, refocusing on the task at hand.

His gaze shifted to the second material he had gathered, one he had placed at a considerable distance away due to his troubling attraction to it.

A goblin-sized rat carcass, a [Hordred Rat Digger] he had hunted discreetly over the last hour.

It had taken a short while to find another one, but only the Digger variant would suit his purposes exactly.

Miles walked over to it, leaving the melted container of iron to cool.

The scent strands of pooling blood and degrading death tickled his nostrils, but with a slow, focusing exhale he tempered his desire to sink his teeth into the rodent carcass. It was surprisingly easy, compared to the scent of that living blood.

With the rock spike in hand, Miles got to work, first starting with skinning and de-fleshing the corpse. His throat burned, his mouth salivated, but his concentration remained strong.

It was a messy, bloody ordeal, but he was not a stranger to prepping hunted game. Sidhe knows he had had enough family holidays to their hunting cabin in the Everglades.

Miles continued to do well, at least until the rock spike actually shattered in two, due to too much force while stuck between too particularly tough bones. It was a sad affair, for the spike had served well as a makeshift weapon.

Thankfully, the remaining splinters were sharp and long enough to continue.

In the end, a grotesque mess of flesh and skin were discarded at a corner of the cave, and Miles considered the remnant skeleton.

Although it had not been his primary intent, this task had also turned into a sort of postmortem on the Hordred rat.

The skin and flesh were rodent-like, but the underlying bone structure of this particular rat was extremely unusual.

It was less of a four-footed rat and more of a goblin, or more accurately, a rat that was halfway evolving into something humanoid.

Perhaps the [Hordred Rat Brutes] were formed from the [Hordred Rat Diggers]? Some sort of evolutionary relationship?

It was entirely plausible.

The skeleton was also unusually dense. Even the most fragile parts remained unbroken despite his half-hearted attempts to shatter it.

This was truly no mere rat, but those discoveries would only happen to serve Miles’ purpose better.

He did need to separate the bones though, and while shattering it seemed difficult, he could always melt it, and with a second casting of the Heating Touch Enchantment, now raised to around 2500 Celsius, Miles got to work.

It was a challenge even then, until the ligaments and joints showed the first signs of weakening. Eventually, Miles managed to partition down the tough bone into their ‘constituent’ components.

Any of the left-over bones would work well as makeshift weapons, but that was not his primary intent.

His focus was on the skull and the pelvis bones, which he cleaned out as well he could until they formed half-decent containers, containers that could persist even under metal melting heat.

Into one, he added a few shards of cold iron, and into the other…

Miles heaved a sigh and took off his boot.

With careful maneuvering so as to not directly touch it, he broke off the tip of the sole and carefully placed the Infernal Steel tip within the second bone container.

Miles held the containers in both hands, moving towards the now decently cooled and solidified cold iron container.

“Cadmus, double cast the Heating Touch enchantment, 2000 degrees Celsius.”

The ring activated again, and with two fingertips that burned with the searing heat of the Gini Salamander, Miles got to forging.

It was quite simple, for all he had to do was hold his fingers to the bone containers. The bone would remain unaffected, but the metals within began to melt.

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It would be a fairly time-consuming process.

***

Smoldering embers drifted through the air, swirling through an expanse of blood, sweat and creation.

Molten elements dripped down like liquid starlight, poured from crucibles adorned with gleaming engravings. Holographic and overhead displays flickered with the schematics of innovative weaponry and indomitable armor. The air crackled with remnant aether, an energy that could not be described as anything other than magic airborne.

Strikes of metal against metal resounded through the space, as artisans equipped with cybernetics to the point they could be considered cyborgs plied their trade, crafting, no, innovating. Their echoes seemed to resonate with the hum of fae incantations whispered and echoed by a hundred unseen lips.

These were the Lykaon Forges, the core of their enterprise, and her domain.

Far above those resident forgers, craftsmen, and engineers, upon a levitating island of metal that oversaw all the work down below, there lay a far more advanced, yet compact forge.

The focus here was a centralized structure, a massive box of solid crystal, faded and unclear.

Standing before it was Agnes, his mother, dressed in burn darkened overalls.

This was not his first visit to the Forge, far from it, and yet…

“Apprentice Miles! Infernal Iron and Cold Iron, what is the primary difference between those two metals?”

Yes, this was his first day as an ‘apprentice’ and his mother seemed unnecessarily ecstatic.

He had not expected to be quizzed on his first day, and considered the question carefully, before answering, “Resonant frequencies? Cold Iron is an absolute zero on the Fae Energy Spectrum, but even a diluted Infernal Alloy would have a frequency in the millions. Is that it, mother?”

Agnes narrowed her eyes, “What mother? You will refer to me as All-Crafter Agnes! Yes, my dear apprentice?”

Miles almost rolled his eyes but noting how serious she seemed he allowed the silliness. “Apologies All-Crafter, that is indeed what I meant.”

Agnes beamed immediately, “Good, good, and great answer! Your fathe–I mean Director Etan has taught you well.

“Now! I know this is supposed to be an introductory lesson, but all good things should start off with a bang! Which is why I will demonstrate a long theorized, but only recently proven discovery.”

His mother flicked her hand towards the back, and a signet ring upon her hand just barely discernible, glowed in response.

Instantly the faded box of crystal glass cleared, like an iced window placed into summer's heat, revealing two gigantic robotic end effectors, each holding two cubes. One was an ordinary metal, but the other was a darkened abyss of metal, rippling with shadows of death and un-life, to the point even its end effector seemed to have rusted at its touch.

Two cubes of pure Cold Iron and pure Infernal Iron.

Agnes grinned, as she knocked on the crystal glass, “Infernal Iron! Dubbed as such due to its ‘infernal’ properties, spreading death and devastation wherever a vein or mine is discovered. Yet it remains one of the most useful of the Fae influenced ores, for the infernal inside can be tamed and harnessed with the appropriate crafter’s sigils.

“Elementally speaking, we know that Infernal Iron is ordinary Iron. Yet somehow it intrinsically resonates at the unique energy frequency of a dread Fae.

“Cold Iron is elementally identical to it as well, for it is actually simply ordinary Iron. Even then the aversion of all things Fae to this ordinary metal, though not definitive or cohesive, remains inexplicably true.”

Her eyes glowed with a passion he rarely saw in anybody, “Most All-crafters consider the reasoning to be conceptual, based on belief and collective conception, similar to the ‘magic’ of the Fae. I believe there is something more to it, but… I digress.

“Apprentice Miles, what do you think will happen… if these two opposites came into contact? Diluting an Infernal Metal is usually done with a Fae-Inert, natural elements such as Carbon, but what have you observed to happen when Infernal Iron is combined with Cold Iron?”

Miles’ answer was prompt, “The Infernal escapes?”

Agnes narrowed her eyes.

“...right, All-Crafter?”

His mother beamed, “Good, yes, the Infernal will be freed from its ‘containing’ metal! It will be a while before a weaker ‘diluted’ infernal will form within the new alloy again, but…”

Miles cocked his head, and Agnes’ grin grew wider, for with an almost theatrical flurry, she waved at the glass box.

Immediately, the robotic end effectors turned a searing red, broiling with heat to the point the visual of the arms seemed to waver due to the high temperature.

In just a few seconds, the two metals melted into two pools of shining iron and writhing darkness. They trickled down from the end effectors, flowing down the sloped base from opposite directions.

Time slowed to a crawl as they approached each other, and the moment the two molten metals touched, a blood-curdling shriek rang out.

The infernal iron seemed to fade in its darkness, taking on a sheen similar to the cold iron as they mixed together. But, almost imperceptibly, the air within the crystal glass box shifted to a slighter darker hue.

It could have been a trick of the light... were it not for the echoing, overlapping whispers that spoke of death and carnage. It was followed by ominous slams and thuds into the crystal walls of the cube, alongside the spontaneous appearance of scratches upon the glass.

“With that, the Infernal has been set free! Well, free of its original containing metal, the cold iron lined crystal glass is its new prison. Still, this is the standard. But don't you think this is a waste? To let the aether-filled Infernal just dissipate over time?”

With a click of her fingers, a third robotic arm pulled down from the top of the box. Its end effector carried a box of Cold iron. One of its faces seemed to show a seal like metallic structure, forged with strange engravings.

The arm moved downwards, reaching towards the mixture of molten metals. Something slammed into it, causing scratches to appear over the metal, but it still held strong.

“The Infernal may have left the metal, but it is still 'linked' to its original vessel. So, what happens, if a uniquely designed sigil formation of aether-sealing was placed here?”

Exactly then, the end effector touched the metal.

As if flashed with light, the darkness of the air inside the crystal box vanished.

Curious, Miles examined for the presence of the Infernal, only to find its whispers still present, but considerably muted. It was the sound of slamming and scratching that revealed where it was, inside that container of Cold Iron.

Agnes grinned, pointing at the box, “Just like that, we have one extracted Infernal, sealed within a portable container. Free for your personal use whether it be an enchanting or forging task! You could also be quite uninspired and throw it at someone you really want dead, crafter’s choice!

“But before we do any of that, another question, my dear apprentice. This was such a simple process, so why has it not been attempted or succeeded before?”

Miles peered into the crystal box, examining his mother’s creation. None of the theories or crafting done here were particularly new, no, but the crux of this process was…

“It’s the Sigil Formation, right? Did you design it moth–I mean, All-Crafter?”

His mother beamed for a second time, tapping upon her nose, “Of course, who else could? And that is why, today will be your introductory lesson to what we call Aether Sigils, the supposed written language of the Fae!”

***

Many hours later, Miles stared down at the shaking cold iron container, trembling as if it were alive.

It had been an extremely rough job, his relative unfamiliarity with forging in recent times, and the lack of proper equipment being the primary reasons. Having to work around an Infernal, a being that was degradation incarnate, did not make it any easier either.

In fact, Miles had had to improvise, by engraving the sigil formation into the base of the cold iron container first, and then pouring the molten metals directly inside. The container might have melted this way, had he not used the slop of discarded rodent organs as a rudimentary 'coolant'. It was a macabre choice, but it had done what was needed and that was all that mattered.

There had still been a risk of being injured, but for the strangest of reasons the infernal had been a lot more docile than expected. Either he remembered the violence of Infernal wrong, or this one had just let itself be trapped.

It was his fortune, as rough as it may have been, he had managed to succeed with barely a scratch.

The Infernal's ‘good behavior’ did not last long though, for the moment it was trapped, it went insane. The container shuddered, as the being within banged and ripped into the cold iron, but unable to escape it, for now...

Even with the formation of aether sealing, the influence of an Infernal could not be nullified entirely. The hand-welded container would not last longer than a day, but that was fine.

Miles did not need it to hold for long. Just long enough.

With the most troubling forging task completed, he placed the Infernal sealed container aside.

Miles considered his next step, when something changed.

For a moment he feared the Infernal had managed to escape, but no...

This something had passed right through him, permeating throughout the maze, and before he could wonder what this was about... he heard it.

An instrument of some sort, a flute or something similar, playing an eerily beautiful tune.

Miles had had the opportunity to listen to some of the best fae musicians of Capital City and he could say with confidence this was on par, if not better. The music came from all directions, resounding through the iron walls, but his ears perked up, sensing the source to be the direction of the middle ring exit. He couldn't be sure, but it could be the outer ring, or from the outside of the maze entirely…

He tried to locate the source with his eyes, but if someone was playing an instrument, Miles could not see. Perhaps they were beyond the rage of Blood Vision?

The music wafted through the air, speaking to all that listened, retelling a hundred stories and ideas with every chord. The tale of a hero that defeated a monster, the sealing of evil forever more, how powerless innocents would be saved and protected from those that wished to cause harm. A plethora of fantastical tales, brought to life by each haunting note.

Almost on instinct Miles flashed Blood Vision towards the hallway the music seemed to be closest to. The very same hallway he had retreated from, his sole path of escape.

His pupils widened as he noted the hundreds of Hordred rats that had formerly been still, had entered a crazed frenzy.

Not all, only a few dozen, but it was enough to reveal the strangest of phenomena.

Consulting the maze map, it was obvious this was the other side of the hall and the entrance to the outer ring. If he wished to reach it, he would have to pass through the hundreds of rodents first.

As if drawn towards the exit by the flute music, the rats gathered there. Their blooded figures rushed in blindly, pouncing even, only to hit something and be pushed back as if they struck a wall.

Yet, they kept trying the same thing over and over, as if hoping the result would change the next time. Maybe it was knowing this futility, that the majority of the rats did not participate in the task.

Miles had seen this exit from a distance previously. It was completely open, so unless what he had seen was an illusion, these rats were being repelled from the outer ring…

‘...The Hordred rats are trapped within the middle ring?’

No wonder they were starving.

The haunting melody continued for a little longer, coming to a perfect end at the victory of its supposed hero. And as if the end of the music was their cue to end their meaningless attempt at an escape, those few rats retreated back to where they had come from.

Within mere minutes, the hall was as it had been, as if nothing had happened in the first place.

Miles blinked blankly, unsure of what to make of what had just happened.

The first was the possibility that he too was trapped here, with the rodents. But if that were true, he would have no choice but to accept his fate of being imprisoned within this maze.

So, he just refused to believe it.

This was a trial, and he just knew whatever stopped the rats would not affect him.

Since Miles was fully confident in that, this could be considered good news.

All he had to do was cross the hallway and reach the exit. All he had to do was escape.

Miles started at the hundreds of blooded Hordred scattered throughout, waiting, for someone to try exactly that.

Well, easier said than done.