Under Pressure

Getting better was a slow process. The physical part I had largely overcome, but the mental aspects of addiction remained. Every second of every day I was thinking about ways to get high. I just wanted that feeling back. Walking away from the needle was like breaking up with someone that I loved with all my heart. Someone bad for me.

But that’s how it worked. Heroin was a fast chemical to pick up but a slow chemical to put down.

In the days that followed, I came to realize the forgefolk of the Lightly Perch saved my life. Especially their medici and senior librarian, Starland. She helped me get out of bed every morning and gave me things to busy myself throughout the day with. Sindri and Brokkr would take me down to the forges below and show me how to smith the roaring Heart Fire. They told me that Heart Fire had a source and that’s what I was supposed to find. They told me that the fires of their forges were sparked from Radiant Stones. hardened Heart Fire deposits harvested from the frozen lands near the center of the world.

The flames burned with a kind of heat that permeated my body. It made me feel good to stand in the light of it. I felt like my body was feeding on it. Growing stronger day by day as I worked and shaped metal along with the sons of Ivaldi, using the tiny little hammer they made for my small hands.

I actually took to it well. It made me feel good inside to be good at something.

In a month’s time, I was making small things. I asked Starland if she could help me imbue an object with the Heart Fire’s uncanny power and she told me no. I knew it wasn’t anything to play with, but the temptation was still there.

I mentioned more than a few times that I should be out looking for Robin, but between Starland, Sindri and Brokkr, they made me realize I was no good to her in the state I was in.

Brokkr was a peculiar sort. He talked with his hands, gestured a lot and was much more lively than his brother. He also liked to tell jokes that weren’t exactly funny. A few days ago he walked up to me with blood on his shirt.

“What do ya call a burglar without a hand?” He said.

“I dunno?” I said back, my eyes wide, looking at him.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s dead now.”

He stared at me and I stared back, but then he just walked away.

Suddenly I was all too aware of the fact that Brokkr was only half kidding, whether that was an actual burglar’s blood or not. It wasn’t until a handful of days later that Sindri let me know he was joking. He’d been down in the kitchens helping butcher meat as one of the kitchen hands had retired early that day. More likely a hangover from the days before.

The forgemasters and mistresses loved their drink.

To be honest, I loved being around them. To be in the presence of people who were so disciplined and yet unafraid to be themselves. To laugh loud, smack pints of beer and sing. It was inspiring. They woke up every morning before the sun came up, dedicated their lives to perfection, and when the day’s chores were done they enjoyed each other’s company like a family.

Sitting at their tables smiling and laughing along, I felt at home. They drank beer and I drank water. I felt like I belonged for the first time in my life. Everyone here adored me because of the legacy Siobhan left behind. Some nights I would sit up and think about her from my room. I would stare into that brilliant galaxy turning in the sky so slowly that I’d never see a full rotation in my lifetime, and let the weight of her life sit heavy on my chest.

Then I’d think about Robin. Out there, lost in the world somewhere. And there was nothing I could do about it.

The feeling of powerlessness would come back to me then, but I would push it down by remembering what Starland said.

“It will be hard, Love. What makes the drug so hypnotic is it gives you an escape from the pain. From the helplessness of your situation. You can’t let it seduce you with lies of unearned happiness. You have to find happiness all on your own.”

And she was so right.

Wherever Robin was, I could only hope and pray that she was okay.

For Siobhan, I felt the weight of responsibility. She was probably the sweetest person I had ever met with the only near comparison being Starland. I remembered her green eyes and how genuine they were. How she hugged me to her like a mother, knowing she was setting her child on a cruel and unforgiving path.

For someone who wasn’t meant for either of these worlds, I was having a hard time ignoring my place in them. Sitting in my window, looking at that beautiful disk in the sky, my face painted in its light, I nodded at the realization of what I had to do.

“Time to find a spine, Charlie.” I swallowed hard at the realization. “Wonder if I can make one in the forge.” I smiled humorlessly at my own joke before the depth of my task dropped my shoulders.

God, I wanted to get high. Or drunk.

Both, really.

I got low a couple of days ago and Starland caught me sneaking into the kitchen stealing beer. My lips were inches from the edge of that mug before she turned the light on and I dropped it in surprise. I couldn’t look her in the eyes. I just dropped my head and went back to my room without a word.

I’ve been through a lot in my life, but sobriety was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Every day was a struggle. The hardest part was knowing that every morning for the rest of my life I’d have to force myself to ignore the monkey on my back. Even though my first instinct was to let it win.

I would dream of finding a gutter to crawl into and drown my problems in pills, a needle, and alcohol. Nobody wanted anything the way that I wanted that dream to be real. Most people wanted a dream car, a dream job or house. The problem with being a junkie is the drug trains your brain to rewrite your pleasure and reward response. You crave to flush your life down the toilet just to forget what you’re running from.

Two mornings later my curtains were thrown open wide, my coffee brown eyes burning from the sunlight. I groaned and rolled over, pulling my green blankets over my head. They were the same ones from the bathroom.

After they had been cleaned I insisted on having them back.

There, rolled up inside of them, they were my safe place.

“Get out of bed, ya lazy lump,” Brokkr said, walking over to my bed and yanking my blankets off of me.

I was in pajamas two sizes too big with my face buried in my pillows, my ass in the air like a toddler whose arms had gone to sleep.

“No.” I groaned through the pillow my face was buried in.

“Yes! I’ve got somethin’ for ya.” I felt his hands smack a drum beat on my ass. “Let’s go. Up, up, up!”

I kicked and flailed my way onto my back and threw a pillow at him.

“Miss!”

I threw another.

“Miss again, and now you’ve got nothing else to th- OW!” My boot bounced off of his forehead. “Alright, Missy. Enough of that. Let’s go. You slept right through breakfast. Shame too, Sindri made rag steaks.”

“Aw...” I moaned, “Fuck! I love Sindri’s rag steaks!”

“Yeah, well. You’ve missed that ship, she sailed. Up you get.”

I sat up in a huff and mumbled something under my breath.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. My left ear’s the complaint department and it’s a trifle deaf.”

I just stared at him. I’d been up late in the forges sweating away over my attempt at making my first weapon.

It was dreadful.

The handle was crooked, the end of it was a little lopsided and no one could tell if I was making a spatula or a sword.

“Besides, you’ve got to finish your pancake flipper.”

“It’s a sword!”

I kicked blankets in his general direction.

“It’s a pancake flipper! Let’s go.” He yelled back at me with a hoop of laughter, headed to the door.

“I don’t like you!”

“I don’t either before 9 o’clock. Thankfully you slept well past that.” The door shut before I could yell something back but I smiled in spite of myself.

I had learned to understand Brokkr’s odd ways and his humor. Once you got it, you just kinda got him. I got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom I lived in when I first got here. It was just down the hall.

I chose to stay close to it. It was the only bathroom in the Perch, save for the one by the observatory, that didn’t have a mirror. I wasn’t ready to look at Orcus. Part of me was afraid he would send me to wherever he sent Robin. The other part of me was afraid to acknowledge that he might have my sister.

After I got done cleaning myself up and taking a shower, I pulled on what had become my everyday clothing.

A forgemaster’s suit.

For some reason I really liked it. It reminded me of the armor I saw Lilith wearing and was reminiscent of what Siobhan herself had on the day she appeared to me through my multi-tool. It wasn’t nearly as bulky though.

Siobhan was a lot stronger than me even though we were the same size. She could wear those big pauldrons and gloves. Lilith’s armor was a little closer if only because Siobhan’s armor spoke to an age that had passed prior to advances in technology no doubt. Having seen the range of things that a forgemaster could make, I figured out pretty quickly that they had designed the armor for the Valkyrie at Demonhead.

Most Valkyrie warriors were tall and powerful. Most of their slaves, the Owlet Feronia, they were like me. Smaller by comparison. The occasional small framed woman would succeed in becoming a Valkyrie Corsair, but not many. Most of us just got chewed up and spit out by Gozen Morrow’s cruel program that refused to suffer weakness. She could care less about the least of us.

Forgemaster armor obviously wasn’t quite as protective. It was mostly built for staving off the searing hot flames and embers that flew from grindstones or hot metal. Because of its light construction though, it didn’t weigh down my small shoulders. It had hard leather hidden in the knees for crawling around under forge stack doors. The fingerless gloves had a plate of thin, molded, hard metal over the knuckles to protect them against accidental hammer strikes.

I zipped up my suit and tugged my hammer straps over my shoulders as I made my way towards the stairs.

Starland was standing there at the big cabinet by the first landing, waiting with a smile on her face. I returned it.

“Good morning, Love. You’ll be wanting your hammer I suppose?” She said.

“Morning, Star! Yep!” I beamed.

She kept my hammer locked up. I knew why. She was still worried I might do something foolish like finding a way off the Perch to go sell it for drugs. To be honest, I still didn’t trust myself either.

“Any idea what Brokkr’s so excited about?”

“Oh, no telling with him,” she turned and unlocked the cabinet, fetching out my small gilded hammer.

I took it in my hands and squeezed it fondly. It would never be a weapon. If anything it looked like something I might hammer nails with at home, only with a much larger head and striking surface. Up against a celestial, I might be able to irritate them really badly in a fight, but I’d do nothing more than get myself killed. It was nothing compared to the great hammers Brokkr and Sindri used.

I didn’t care.

Holstering it under my right shoulder I smiled a little, “I’m betting he just wants to make fun of my sword some more.”

“Is that what it is? I thought you were making kitchen tools.”

I blew a sigh, my shoulders sinking as I looked at her.

“No, it’s a sword,” I whined.

“Sorry, Dear!” She rubbed my back and we headed down the stairs together. “If it makes you feel any better, I started in the forges making bedpans for practice. We use them in the Medici wing.”

“You’re a forgemaster too?”

“Mistress, and yes. Everyone here is to some degree. We may have other roles but our primary lot in life, our primary source of income is down in the forges. It’s part of our culture.”

“Oh,” I said, my eyes opening to a whole new level of admiration for Starland. Here I was happy I had gotten one thing sort of right in my life and she was the master of three.

“You’re well on your way to joining us, I’d say.”

“Yeah, right. Maybe if you need somebody to keep the kitchen stocked in cookware.” I frowned a little and she laughed at me, swatting my arm.

“Oh, stop it, Love. You’ll get it right.”

We talked for a little while longer about nothing really. I never was good at small talk but the time I’d spent here in the halls of the Lightly Perch had really done me some good. I could chit chat with just about any of the forgefolk. Even hold my own in conversations beyond my depth. I still wasn’t the best at looking anyone in the eyes but no one here pressed me to.

They let me be myself.

“I meant to ask you... what did your family farm? In Khione Valley.” I asked as we made it down to the main floor.

“Oh, that was forever ago, wasn’t it?” Starland laughed. “We, like most of the farmers in the Valley, grew Albino Laikas and kept Rompi.”

“Albino Laikas and Rompi?” I curled my lip, “What’s that?”

“Albino Laikas are a fruit that grows underground in very cold places. They kind of look like an earth orange, only white. The skin isn’t as tough though, they peel very easy, actually.”

“What do they taste like?”

“The rind is very bitter but the meat inside is very sweet. Sure if I think it tastes like custard.”

“Oh. That’s weird.”

“I rather think an orange is weird, but that goes to show where we come from, doesn’t it?”

I laughed, “I guess that’s true. What about Rompi?”

We had a long time to talk as we headed for the forges. Starland caught me up on Khione Valley culture after the Celestial Uprising. We even briefly talked about our shared memories of the Minute War.

We continued making small talk and exchanging stories as we descended the spiral staircase to the elevators that lowered us to the massive, pearl and gold forge doors below. When those great double doors opened, I stepped inside. They were so well balanced that they swung almost effortlessly forward, letting the hot air of the forges rush out from inside, the fires washing me in their amber glow.

The forge ceilings were as high as the main foyer. Higher perhaps. Deep under the ground of that floating platform in the sky, the Heart Fire flames roared through the fifty open stacks that forgefolk were diligently working in front of. Echoing sounds of hammers striking in practiced order filled the air. Fifty round grinding wheels sat ten or so yards from each set of forge doors. Each grindstone had beside it an intricately made wooden and brass table with various polishing, shaping and cutting tools atop them. Big wooden carts were used to ferry all kinds of metals from the chain lifts that brought them down from above, no doubt delivered from all over Blue Veil. The smell of burning embers and sweat were rich in the air.

I loved it.

“Be safe, Love,” Starland said and I turned to wave with a smile on my face.

“Always am.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed, heading away as I turned to trot inside.

Brokkr was standing about with five or six other forgemasters and mistresses, all positioned around what looked to be a very large and very out of place object in the forge.

It was a pocket watch. A big one. And from the size of the cracks in the ground, it looked as if it had fallen from a very high place.

It couldn’t have been held by anybody but a giant. Coming to a stop, my hand came up to wipe the sweat from my brow. I rummaged in one of the pockets of my dark suit, pulling free a bandana. Wrapping it around the base of my wild, curly hair, I tied it off at the forehead to keep my sweat in check.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, all of them talking amongst themselves, making jokes about the size of the pocket watch and how it would have crushed anyone to hold. I looked down at the strange timepiece. Its clasp had broken and the big, round cover hung open, exposing the ticking face inside.

“Well, it’s obviously a pocket watch,” Brokkr said, twisting his mouth sarcastically.

“Oh, is it? I thought it was a ticking picnic table. Maybe we’d have some sandwiches on it, sit around and talk about good times.”

“Shut your hole,” he laughed and I joined him.

“It’s big.”

“Yeah. Too right it is. It fell from up there,” he pointed and my head craned up to look at the ceiling of the forge. There, nestled into the dark corner of the room above his forge was an indentation in the stone where the timepiece had been prior.

“Lucky no one lost their life,” one of the other forgemasters said and a few more joined in.

“Yeah, jeez. This thing must weigh a ton. What the fuck was it doing up there?” I asked.

My foul mouth and accent had long been a stand out in the forges. No one was even surprised by it anymore.

“I’m not sure, Wee Lass,” he stepped in closer, unclasping his broad-faced hammer from his side, swinging it into the open cover of the watch. He’d struck it with all of his might, the metal giving off an impossible, reverberating gonging sound.

People around him, including me, slapped our hands to our ears. The sound rang in the forge loud enough to echo back a hundred times in an instant.

“Brokkr! What in the burning fire is wrong with you? Hit it with your head next time, you great lump!” One of the forgefolk bitched and everyone gave a hearty laugh.

“You are so stupid,” I said and he waved his hammer at me.

“Least I’m not a tiny little girl with an even tinier hammer!”

All of the forgemasters and mistresses gave a goading ‘oohhh’.

“Yeah, my hammer’s small,” I said, shrugging and unclasping it from under my right arm. I strolled over to Brokkr and waved it at him.

“A mere toothpick with a bit of rag steak at the end!” He teased, a series of chuckles following all around.

“It’s not the size of the hammer, Brokkr. It’s how you swing it.” I added as laughter broke out around us.

“Brokkr wouldn’t know a thing about that!” A woman called from her forge and the laughter grew as forgefolk recognized the voice of his wife.

“Silence your tongue before your husband comes and gives you a lesson in how well he swings his hammer!” Brokkr shouted back.

“Gladly!” His wife called back to clapping and laughter.

“You’d better stop before she beats you with your own hammer,” I waved my little hammer at him again to the continued ribbing of Brokkr by the forgefolk.

“Alright, alright. Now that we’ve all taken shots at my expense. Hope you’re all drunk and happy,” he holstered his hammer. “Question is what are we gonna do with this thing?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “It’s pretty cool though,” I nodded, walking over to it and squatting down to look over its intricate metal closely.

The open clasp of the pocket watch was indeed broken. Looking on the inside of that face cover, I could almost completely hide behind it if I wanted to. My eyes moved over to the face of the watch, hearing the loud thunk of its inner workings clicking.

The time was incorrect.

But only then did I notice that the clock counted to seventeen, not twelve.

“Hey, Brokkr. I don’t think this is a timepiece. At least not for counting hours in a day.”

He came over to my side and looked down.

“Yeah, I know. I think it’s what they used to use to time the hammer strikes of the forge a long time ago. During the War of the Old Gods. Back when my brother made the Wolves Bane.”

Everyone grew silent in reverence to those times. And to those great weapons.

“You see, the claws of the great wolf were worked in time to preserve the quality of the Wolf Metal. Fenris’ claws are like knives that cut into the earth, digging great trenches as he prowls.”

“This doesn’t look like Heart Fire forged Boreas metal,” I said, rubbing my hand over the face.

“No, that’s because it’s not. I’m guessing the timepiece was forged with the Wolf Metal first. It’s not unusual for a forgemaster to test their metal before they begin a masterpiece. Course, Sindri’s a lot older than me. I wasn’t a Forgemaster back then.”

“Did you ask your brother?”

“Sindri? No, why would I?” Brokkr asked, genuinely puzzled.

“To find out if that’s what-..” I stared at him.

Brokkr shook his head.

“Nope. Don’t care.” He shrugged, kicking the timepiece. “Just thought you’d want to have a look at it. Nothing I can do with it. I’m not going through the trouble to heat Wolf Metal. Takes ages.”

“Can... I have it?” I asked, not wanting to look up at him. I felt him staring at the back of my head.

“And what are you gonna to do with Wolf Metal, Little Hammer?”

“I dunno. Yet,” I said, frowning.

“Sure, you can have it. Just don’t make the world’s toughest spatula out of it. I don’t think any of us would survive the laughter,” Brokkr said, marching off.

“I don’t like you!” I shouted over my shoulder through a laugh.

Brokkr was howling with laughter.

I stood up from behind the timepiece, looking over at one of the other forge mistresses.

“So... how-” I started to ask, but she interrupted me.

“Hot.” Her arms crossed, lips twisting to one side as she sauntered off.

Turning, she shook an encouraging fist at me.

“Really hot.”

I looked over at my forge nearly a football field away from where the heavy watch sat.

“Fuck.”

* * *

Later that night I found Sindri sitting on a stone bench in the observatory, his eyes looking up, reflecting the light of the spiral galaxy back at the sky. He was dressed in evening robes. I was still in my forgemaster’s armor, no doubt stinking to high heaven from sweating so profusely. My face was smudged and my fingers, peeking out of my fingerless gloves, were just as dirty.

“We found somethin’ of yours today,” I said, my voice tiny, not wanting to disturb him.

“I heard,” his slow, gravelly voice answered back in the dim light from above.

“Was it really a timekeeper for your hammer?”

“That it was, child.” He gave a slow nod.

“Why did you hide it way up there?”

“It wasn’t hiding,” he answered, “it was placed there for safekeeping.”

I nodded, “Oh. Lucky it didn’t kill anyone.”

“Lucky indeed. I hear it’s yours now.”

“I mean. No, not... I-... if you want it back, I understand.” I said, looking at the side of his old, familiar face.

“I’m an old man now. I haven’t the time to work metal like that anymore. Wolf Metal is hard. It requires a lot of time. A lot of heat. You have to push the fires ever hotter. Until they go from orange to white.”

“Wow,” I nodded again, “how do you stand it? Sometimes the forge is suffocating by itself. I can’t imagine the heat getting that bad.”

“You don’t. You endure it,” he said, leaning back against the bench. “You endure it in the hope of preserving a better tomorrow.”

A better tomorrow. Those words stirred in me the memory of my thoughts earlier. Of sitting in my room looking out of the window, thinking about the path that I had to take.

“About that,” I said.

“It’s almost time for you to go, isn’t it, Charlie?” He said and it gave me pause.

“How do you always know what I’m thinking?”

“I don’t. Age and wisdom tell me. I know well the road you must go. And that you are the only one that can.”

“I keep wondering if this is some kinda destiny. Or like I’m some kind of Chosen One. I don’t think that’s really true, but still.” I shook my head.

“It isn’t. There are no chosen ones. No prophecies or legends of old like children’s story books. This is a thing that has happened before and will happen again. It is yours by unhappy chance.”

“Yeah... I keep thinking I’m somebody special. Then I realize I’m not. I’m just a girl in a pretty shitty situation.”

“You are not special, and that is exactly why this fight is yours. This world needs to know that it doesn’t take someone special. It only takes the will.” He crossed his legs, clasping his fingers over one knee.

“Charlie, your kind bare a power that most of us cannot fathom. A power created at the dawn of a new world. The power of Brahma. And by rights, it is a power that your kind wield like a toy. Irresponsible in all but a few hands.”

“Why did Brahma create so many gods?” I asked, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees.

“Do you know the creation story?” He asked and I shook my head.

“I mean... I think Siobhan knew it, so I kinda know but... not really.”

“Before Blue Veil there was nothing. From nothing came Brahma. So they say.”

“Do you believe that?”

“I believe a great many things. That, however, is not one of them. The evidence doesn’t support the statement. A single creator god from nowhere begets mysticism and foolishness. As does the belief in a god that always is and was. We learned hundreds of years ago that Heart Fire can be harnessed into the very technology we use today. Imagine what we will know a hundred years hence?”

“That opens a can of worms that makes my head spin, Sindri.”

“It doesn’t matter. For now.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, looking over at him.

“Brahma then created four other gods. Each of them symbolized by the sacred geometry. The language of the universe. The Maestro, Creator God, Brahma is the sphere, space, universe, aether. Followed by Ignis, The Burning Lady, Empress of Fire, the tetrahedron. Nidus, the Emperor of Tides, Warrior in the Still Water, the Icosahedron. Huayra, Eye of the Storm, Power of the Air, symbolized by the Octahedron and finally Lotus. Empress of the Breaking Dawn, Lady of the Moving Mountain, the earth God symbolized by the cube.”

“They were the old Gods.”

“That is correct. The Old Gods were supposed to help Brahma build a perfect world. One without hardships or hurt. Loss or pain. Together they built Blue Veil and it’s said that it was beautiful. The writings of the first era of men say this anyway. The Golden Age.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad. Why couldn’t things just stay like that?” I asked.

“Because perfection is not a parameter most people are willing to accept. Because wherever there is sentience there is opinion. And wherever there is opinion there are world views. Gods began to see the world differently. To decide their view was better than Brahma’s. With that came the division of men. Whenever men are divided, there comes the need to conquer.”

“Seems like that happens on every world.”

“That it does. Though consider our sample size is only the two.”

“What about the Heart Fire?” I sat back, shifting on the bench to face him better.

“Therein lies the thing that makes no sense. The reason I have more questions instead of answers when it comes to the creation story. If there was nothing and then there was Brahma, how then is the Heart Fire a thing that can be separated from him?”

My mouth slowly fell open, “Holy shit...”

I’d never thought about that before.

“Mm,” he grunted, lifting a finger to accentuate the point he had made. “Curious, is it not?”

“Fuckin’ right it is. Where does Perun come in?”

“After the descent of man into war, Brahma did nothing. He continued to create, to build while other gods fought one another. And then he disappeared... Some say that he went there.” Sindri pointed up at the spiral galaxy in the sky, “to start another world. And when he came back, this one was so destroyed he tried to start over. He made a new pantheon of gods to help the old. To better answer the prayers of men, thinking they were simply dissatisfied and unhappy.”

“You can’t make everybody happy,” I shook my head, “I know that all too well.”

“As you can imagine, more gods weren’t the answer. It was only a matter of time before one of them figured something out. That one was Perun. What he figured out, no one knows. What we do know is that he disappeared. For years. Decades.”

“Until Brahma disappeared again,” I said, “I know this part. The beginning of Ragnarok.”

Sindri nodded. “The day Fenris was summoned into this world by Perun using Brahma’s power. The day the wolf ate the heart of the Creator God and spewed onto the world his Covetous Jealous Fire. Perun wasn’t interested in creating gods. He killed them. Almost all of them save for a very few. That’s when he created the Celestials, and they, in turn, created the Lesser Celestials. Perun wouldn’t make the same mistakes as his father.”

“And then came me.” I dropped my head and massaged at my temples.

“And then came you, child.”

“Do you know where the Heart Fire is?” I looked up and asked him, smiling.

“No, I do not,” he smiled back.

“Just checkin’.” We shared a quiet laugh.

“I don’t even know where to begin,” I said.

“The same place that everyone does,” He replied, standing from the bench and starting away.

“Where’s that?”

“The start.”

I nodded more to myself than to him.

“Sindri.”

“Child?” He said, stopping.

“Nothin’.”

I looked at him standing in the archway of the observatory, his back to me. He waited for me to say what was on my mind. When nothing came out, he nodded his head once and was gone.

* * *

I spent most of the rest of that day down in the forge trying to figure out just how hot I would have to get the fire for it to go from orange to white. I tried just about everything I knew without wasting too many Radiant Stones. It didn’t go my way but I refused to ask Brokkr. I didn’t feel like hearing any of his jokes about my failure. I wanted to do it all on my own, to prove to him I could handle myself without a babysitter.

Five hours later the only thing I managed to do was swath myself in overwhelming heat and have to retreat for a while. I had been down there working so diligently that I forgot to get fluids in my system. It was easy to blackout in that sweltering heat, I knew. I had done it once before. The fire felt different this time though. Like adding those extra Radiant Stones, releasing the bits of Heart Fire trapped within them, made the fire my ally. It threatened to burn me alive and yet I still felt my body feeding off of it. It made me feel stronger and so I kept at it until I wasn’t able to ignore my thirst.

I made my way through the Perch, up the elevator, up the stone steps from the forges and into the main hall. Looking down at the well-shined wooden floors, I pushed my hands into my pockets, little bits of forge fodder falling out of my hair.

The shimmering of the ruby flaking in the handles of the drinking fountains in the main hall brought me over to one. I grabbed one of the small wooden cups sitting upsidedown by the fountain and pumped myself a generous amount of cool water. It was refreshing washing over my tongue and down my dried out throat. It had a hint of sweetness that made it ever so satisfying. Starland told me they filtered the water through cucumber peelings in the highest towers of the Perch and that gravity supplied the water pressure.

“I need a shower,” I groaned, reaching up to pluck bits of wood shavings and cold brimstone from my curls.

The lights above me flickered amber and my head popped up, eyebrows frowning at the sudden shift in hue. Then I remembered what it was for.

“Oh, the door!” I smiled.

It was my turn to return the favor. Some poor traveler or maybe somebody here to see Sindri and Brokkr was outside knocking. I had never once opened the door. Hell, just a month ago I would have never had the courage to. Meeting new people scared me. The expectation, the eye contact. Those were difficult for me.

Even now the thought of eye contact bothered me, but I could avoid that at least. It would be nice to do something for the people who brought me back from a very bad place. Even if it was something as simple as greeting their guests.

I took another big swallow of water and put my cup down, rushing down the great hall to the foyer looking at those double doors ahead of me. I would have to apologize for the way I smelled. Somewhere in between burning stone and sweat thanks to the forges.

“My hammer. I knew I forgot something,” I said, noticing the lack of extra weight on my left side.

I turned the latches and knobs on the door, carefully working the complex locking mechanism from memory. I had always hidden nearby when Starland answered the door. I didn’t want to feel the judgment in the eyes of strangers.

I pulled the door open wide.

“Welcome to the Light...” My mouth dropped open.

My left hand clenched the doorknob. I could feel my eyebrows moving, unsure if they wanted to frown in anger or lift in fear and surprise. My bottom lip trembled. I could practically taste the words that had gotten caught in my throat.

Two women stood on the doorstep in front of me. One of them had brilliant blue eyes, the other stormy gray. Otherwise, the two women were identical. Dark brown hair spilled down their backs, their beautiful features pulling up into a pleasant smile. They were both taller than me by several inches.

I felt four feet tall. My stomach clenched into a knot as old fear came screaming back from my past.

No, further still.

From Siobhan’s past.

In that instant, my mind traveled back to another place. To another time.

I remembered Gozen told me about her five Valkyrie elite the day she imbued the power of the Heart Fire in me and made me a Lesser Celestial. This was long before I found the source of the Heart Fire myself and ascended to godhood. I was excited that day. I thought I was finally going to be a part of something. That I had found where I belonged. Never in my wildest nightmares did I think she would instead force me into a life of abuse and hatred. That she would strip me of my dignity and make me ashamed to be alive. It made the bitter wound of forgiving her for killing my family all the harder to endure.

The five sisters of the elite guard were women clothed in immense power. Their prowess in battle almost unrivaled save for Gozen herself. Sigrund, Brunhilde, Isolde, Brigid, and Sinead. Each of these five women guarded the Bright Throne during times of war. They carried out special missions for Perun and his generals Gozen, Orcus and Midvalley. Deadly warriors and assassins all.

Just like the two standing in front of me.

Brunhilde was a tactician and a captain in Midvalley’s army, Sigrund was the leader of the Valkyrie elite guard, Isolde was the kindest of her five sisters and the one most likely to see reason. These two, however, were just butchers. The twins, Brigid and Sinead. I recognized them right away. Brigid was known for strangling her enemies with the lash. Sinead was an executioner without a drop of mercy in her heart.

“Charlie Siobhan Ryan, I presume.” Brigid said in her saccharine voice.

I knew it could turn brutally cold at a moment’s notice. My eyes fell away from hers. Her sister smiled.

“So the great Siobhan Aoibheann has come back to us a coward,” Sinead said, walking closer to me as I leaned against the door, pulling away out of instinct.

“Your bottom lip is shaking, Charlie,” She said, her face inches from my own as I turned my head away from her. Fear sat like a cold lump in my throat.

Just turn off your brain, Charlie. Turn off your brain. It doesn’t hurt if you turn off your brain. The forgefolk won’t suffer if you just let them hurt you. That’s all they want. They just want to hurt you.

My breathing quickened. I faltered back a step.

“She’s going to run,” Brigid said.

She was right.

I turned away from the door, terror fueling my feet as I burst into motion, running into the Perch. My scream echoed throughout the halls, a wild howl.

“Somebody! Somebody!”

My brain didn’t register Sinead laughing in ecstasy.

Before I made it twenty feet, deadly Brigid had me by the neck from behind and my feet flew forward, my scream cut short with a wet choke. She jerked me back and threw me through the front door.

Sinead stepped aside to let me sail by, hitting the top stair hard and rolling down them. Panic slammed me in the chest and I scrambled, rolling onto my hands and knees, crawling my way back up to my feet to try and get away.

Sinead leapt into the air, I heard the unmistakable sound of her wing unfurling behind her and I knew I couldn’t run fast enough. I turned back to see her high above me like the angel of death. I opened my mouth to plead but she came down hard, both of her feet slamming into my chest. My back slammed into the ground with authority, jarring my bones.

She stood atop me, smiling, her eyes gleaming in the evening sun. She and her sister were wearing formal battle skirts. The kind of thing the Valkyrie typically wore for ornament, or during a celebration in Valhalla. They hadn’t come here to kill, they came here to intimidate.

Gorgeous Brigid came sauntering along beside her sister who was still standing on my gasping chest, preventing me from breathing. My dark eyes moved over to her as she rocked her hips my way with a smile on her face to match her sister.

Sinead finally hopped off of me like it was a game and I blasted a cough out of my lungs, turning over onto my side.

“We’ve come to collect you, Siobhan.” Brigid brought her foot back and slammed it into my stomach, rolling me a dozen yards across the blue concrete.

Air escaped me again. I coughed violently, my throat burning. I tried to crawl away but she wouldn’t let me. She marched over to me, rolled me onto my back with a foot and brought it high. Her formal boot came down to rest on my cheek, grinding my face into the ground. I gripped her ankle, my back arching, the heels of my boots digging in, trying to get out from under her.

“Gh-ng...” was all I could manage.

“What?” Sinead asked, “I’m sorry, I can’t understand you.”

Just don’t fight, Charlie. You won’t go to the icebox if you just don’t fight. You can take it.

Brigid’s boot came off of my face and Sinead quickly moved in to capitalize. She grabbed a handful of my forgemaster’s collar, yanking me to sit upright.

“We’ve been looking for you for over a month. I told my sister to look here first. Your infamous last stand.”

I was already winded from fear. I didn’t want to look her in the eyes.

Her opposite hand snared my chin and forced me to look at her. My head turned up to face her but my eyes were downcast.

“Look at me, Little Bird,” Sinead said.

I opened my mouth to say something. Nothing came out.

“Look at me,” she said again, her voice as gentle as the wind.

“I can’t,” I finally choked out, my vision growing blurry with tears.

“Aw, it’s alright.” Her battle hardened hand released me, turning over to rub a tear from my cheek. “Do you want us to stop?”

I nodded.

“Say it.” She said, and I heard Brigid chuckling behind her.

“Please stop.”

She had pushed me back down into my quiet place. My voice was tiny. Ashamed of begging out of fear. My eyes finally moved to hers.

“Beg louder.” Brigid said from beside her sister.

My head dropped to try and avoid Sinead’s gaze but her hand caught my chin and shoved it back up.

“Beg me to stop hurting you,” Sinead said.

Grow a spine, Charlie. It’s now or never.

“Fuck you!” I roared at her.

She made me pay for it.

In a flash her fist bashed into my face, sending my head back to slam into the ground.

The world spun.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

Brigid laughed at me as I rolled over and began to crawl. The two of them watched me, walking behind my prone body as I left drops of blood from my nose behind, sniffling and coughing.

“This is pathetic, Charlotte.” Sinead’s boot slammed into my ribs, tearing a scream from me. Another boot landed home, rolling me across the ground.

I remembered Siobhan’s green eyes. Her soft voice. I remembered it as clear as my forge hammer striking iron.

“But you can fight them there, Charlie,” She had said.

In terror, I’d forgotten where I was. I’d forgotten myself. I wasn’t on earth desperately trying to stay out of a NEST icebox. I wasn’t bound to never raise my fist in defense or anger. I was in Blue Veil. NEST was coming for me whether I fought or not.

I felt Sinead’s hand grab a handful of my curly hair and yank me up onto my knees.

“We could tell Gozen she died you know,” Sinead said.

“Mm, true... Fell from the Perch again? No. Lady Morrow wants her back at Demonhead where she belongs. In a collar. Like a well-heeled bitch.” Brigid laughed her wicked laugh.

Fight Charlie.

On my knees, coughing from the boots they had put to me, I looked up at Sinead’s waist. At the dagger sheathed there beside her Atma Sword. Faster than I thought possible my left hand snatched the short blade from its scabbard. I whipped it through the ends of my hair, cutting free the strands she held as my legs pushed off of the ground beneath me. I propelled myself right into her, bowling her over.

Leading with the dagger.

I felt it sink into her thigh and we both went down with a scream. Mine in wild determination, hers in pain. Her sister was already in motion as I rolled over her, ripping the dagger up with a twist on my way to my feet.

Brigid’s lash was called to her side. She whirled it overhead, sending it whipping out towards me, cracking through the air as I fell back to avoid it. Tumbling onto my back, Sinead wasn’t there to land on anymore. She was moving.

My smaller frame continued the motion, rolling over and back onto my feet, just in time to push myself into a low hop as her lash came in again. I threw my arms and legs out wide in the air, letting the whip pass harmlessly beneath me, but as it did, Sinead came from my flank, roaring as she grabbed the back of my neck.

I had no hope of touching the ground again.

She spun around, ripped me higher into the air to the peak of her arm’s length, up and over, blasting all of the air out of me as she dropped to a knee and slammed me into the concrete.

The stolen dagger bounced away from my loosening grip.

“You’ll die for that!” Sinead yelled.

She stood and threw her left leg high into the air, bringing it back down like a comet crashing to earth, her heel aiming for the back of my neck.

I rolled once, she hopped on her anchoring foot, that same heel high again, crashing down. I rolled, again and again, avoiding her boot as it thunked against the concrete, chasing me.

Shoving my elbow against the ground to push me back up onto my feet, my eyes flashed between the two of them.

What the fuck was I doing? They were going to kill me for sure.

I had fought Valkyrie before. Siobhan had. Multiple. But never an elite guard. And never two of them at the same time. I tried to shut my brain off and just let my ancestor instincts drive.

Let Siobhan drive.

She was all that could save me right now.

My muscles hadn’t done this dance before, they weren’t trained for this. Her’s were. The best I could do was emulate her responses with my weaker body and hope for the best.

Brigid’s whip struck like lightning, the lash coiling around my neck, stinging my flesh as she yanked me towards her, pulling my feet off the ground.

I was pulled right into Sinead’s whirling punch. She spun into my airborn body and used all of her momentum to send me spinning away like a dervish when her fist struck home.

As I crashed to the ground, the merciless twins were on me. Pain was bursting in blossoms all over my body but I was too scared to try and acknowledge it. I knew if I didn’t force myself to my feet right then, they would bury me up here above the clouds.

I was up in an instant, just in time to spin hard right of Sinead’s push-kick aimed at my chest. I ducked again, and again under a spinning fist, then another leg coming in from my flank from Brigid. We danced ever closer to the edge of the Lightly Perch, the two keeping me on my heels, unable to attack. I was hard on the defensive, protecting my face as best I could.

Punches and kicks assaulted my body, deflected by my palms and forearms as I whirled, turned and hopped back, moving purely on muscle instinct, not memory. It was a clumsy dance to these well-trained soldiers. More than a dozen punches and kicks hit despite my best efforts to deflect or dodge them.

I was getting torn apart.

When they knocked me down, I popped back up out of desperation. My breaths were ragged, my muscles were screaming at me. I ached from a hundred places but I knew I couldn’t stop. I had to push through the acid in my veins and let fear fuel me. My eyes were wide as I whirled with my attackers, turning and ducking. I skittered left, a punch to the face sent me right, away from something more dangerous.

Soon I was feet from the edge of the disk, my hands and elbows flying wildly to avoid their onslaught. I lost track of a movement and it cost me dearly, one of their fists buckling a rib.

I was crying, but tears didn’t override fear.

They just kept heckling me, laughing at my efforts to protect myself, laughing at my tears while they beat my ass.

I saw an opening and I took it.

Brigid was winding her hand up overhead to send her lash after me again. Sinead was in close, her knee was rising up to try and strike me in the chest. I spun down to my right, dropping to a knee, my left elbow blasting into her anchored leg. In the same continuous movement, I spun round behind her and blasted that same leg from the opposite side with my right elbow. Following through, I pushed up with my back to her, shoving my weight hard backward to send her tumbling off the edge of the platform.

I fell onto the ground inches from the edge as Sinead went careening over the lip.

Brigid’s lash cracked against my chest, my arm coming up to try and deflect it, only getting coiled up in the whip as I cried out. She yanked me up to my feet and beyond, flipping me forward through the air and into her boot. I hit the ground, sliding right over the lip of the platform, clutching the edge by the atoms at the tips of my fingers.

I knew Sinead wasn’t gone.

She had a multi-tool.

I looked up to see her coming down from the air with her brilliant white owl wing outstretched. She landed beside Brigid like a butterfly with sore feet, her heels not making a sound as they touched down.

The two of them looked down at me.

“I was going to take it easy on you, Charlie. I really was,” said Sinead. “But then you went and stabbed me. Bad dog.”

“Looks like we have to tell Gozen you met with an unfortunate accident,” Brigid said.

They didn’t know I had Siobhan’s... my multi-tool.

They didn’t know I had an Atma Sword either.

I had almost forgotten myself.

“Crush her fingers,” Sinead said with a wicked grin.

My tawny wing whipped out from my back like a parachute at freefall, the earring in my ear disappearing as it became that five foot brown and white extension behind me. In a flash of steel, the scabbard of Siobhan’s Atma Sword was in my right hand as I ascended. With the sword’s handle in my left, I pulled it from its sheath with such speed that the force of it spun me into my attack. That blunt blade blasted into Brigid’s arm, bringing a howl of pain from her as she fell back.

I brought the scabbard in my right hand up and out hard, the sound of it meeting Sinead’s blade confirming for me that she had drawn her own. I wasn’t even aware that she had.

My arm just reacted.

I spun around her deflected blade to get behind them, splitting their defense, my feet back on the platform. Brigid’s Atma was out in the same instant and the three of us started a deadly, clashing dance back towards the Perch.

Three swords flashed in the setting sunlight. Three women’s desperate growls echoing into the evening sky. We rolled, twirled and clanged metal. I wasn’t as good with the blade as they were. All I could do was defend against the deadliest of their attacks and absorb those blunt blade strikes I bargained wouldn’t kill me.

My little body was more than likely peppered in deep bruises beneath my armor but I pushed on.

Brigid’s foot slammed into my chest and sent me stumbling back several steps. The three of us were stuck motionless, catching our breath.

I was panting for air. They were winded, but not as much as me. Defending and dodging two attackers put me at a disadvantage.

“Looks like Gozen taught you better than she thought,” Brigid said.

I wasn’t so sure about that. I had probably been hit, punched, kicked and stung with that lash of hers more times than I was comfortable counting. Not to mention how many times their Atma had glanced off me. I was putting up a good front, but I wanted to collapse.

“You can’t keep up this pace forever,” Sinead hissed.

The one advantage I had was Sinead’s bad hip. She was bleeding from it badly now.

“Little bunnies like me just keep goin’ and goin’,” God I was terrible at one-liners.

The two women looked at each other, then at me, their faces spelling their confusion.

“It’s a...TV commerc-... nothin’.” I wobbled on my feet, panting, turning that blunt sword down to hold myself up.

Brigid spun in hard, bringing her Atma whipping towards my throat while her sister Sinead went low. I hopped up onto Sinead’s sword, driving it to the ground with my feet while my own Atma batted Brigid’s sword wide. Brigid spun away, my sword came back and down, bashing Sinead’s wrists with the blunt edge, forcing her to give up her sword or risk me breaking bones if she tried to hold on.

She came up in a rage, shoving into me. Her shoulder pauldron blasted into my ribs and launched me away from her as my wing launched me upward. I burst into the air at an angle backward just as Sinead recovered, following me into the sky. Our blades sent sparks flying as they crashed into each other, the speed and intensity of our attacks sending shockwaves up my arms, aching my muscles.

Before I could properly counter or break the engagement, Brigid had recovered her sword and had pushed into the air, whirling upwards parallel to the ground like a spinning top on its side. Her wing feathers slicing in against my armor, parting the leather along my ankle, only for her sword to come in behind it. I took the cut, giving me time to bring my sword swinging down from overhead, bashing her sword wide.

Sinead took advantage of the opening and rammed into me, dropping me to the blue concrete.

They descended after me.

I rolled backward in time to save my own skin, first Brigid’s sword slammed into the concrete behind me, then Sinead’s, then Brigid’s again as they gave chase, stabbing their swords down one after the other as my rolling body retreated.

I whirled back up to my feet, Brigid’s sword spinning in, missing my chin by inches. Sinead spun and rammed her foot into my stomach, doubling me over in the air and sending me flying away, right into the steps of the Lightly Perch.

My lungs were on fire.

I heard the tittering voices behind me and looked up to see nearly all of the Perch stuffed into the doorway, watching with wide eyes as I lay there beaten bloody.

I had to press the attack.

They were coming.

Fast.

I looked down at my hands, at the forgemaster gloves with those hard plates over my knuckles. Wiping blood from my lip I got myself back up onto my feet just as the twins came in, blades leading.

I threw my Atma Sword right at them, sending the blade tumbling end over end to make Sinead whip her wing and flank hard to my left. Brigid came on still, I stepped left and leaned in the same direction, her sword missing my right shoulder by inches. I punched the back of the blade with my forgemaster glove, forcing it’s momentum further, making her expose her right side.

I was on a knee then, my mind flashing back to Robin. Seeing her in the ring with her trainer the day she nearly killed me. My hands whirled in front of me, rapidly peppering Brigid’s ribs with punches, feeling bones break beneath the onslaught of the metal. My last punch landed before I threw my forearm forward and collapsed her knee.

Sinead came in hard and I dropped low as Brigid stumbled and fell back. Throwing myself flat to the ground to get under her low attack, I anchored my left hand against the ground and pushed off with my toes. I threw my body low through the air, using my anchored hand as a pivot point to sling both of my legs out and kick her ankles out from under her.

Sinead fell forward into the steel knuckles of my glove as that anchored hand left the ground and rushed upward, cracking into her jaw with a sickening pop and sending her spinning away from me. I could tell from her scream and the rain of blood on my chest that I had done damage she wouldn’t quickly recover from.

Brigid was on her knees, glaring at me. She was coughing blood from shattered ribs, maybe even a collapsed lung. Her sister’s jaw was most assuredly broken.

I knew that pain.

I turned over, groaning at the ache in my shoulder from rolling my body over my arm at a weird angle. I lay on my stomach panting so hard my head swam. My body was a throbbing, hot ball of agony.

I had to use my wing to get up. It slapped the air once, hoisting my wobbly body back onto my feet. I must have looked like a marionette. Stumbling over to Brigid, I grabbed her sword from the ground, glaring down at her as she stared daggers up at me.

“Who taught you how to fight like that?” Brigid wheezed the question out as blood spilled over her chin.

“Oh, y’know... Get the shit kicked out of you enough, you pick up stuff.”

Heaving for breath, I lifted the sword and screamed as the blunt edge tore through her neck, ripping her head from her body. I swung so hard I overbalanced, stumbled several steps to my right and collapsed to my knees.

My coffee brown eyes fell on Sinead. Her jaw looked collapsed on one side. Her eyes were open in shock, blood leaking heavily from her mouth, tears for her sister in her eyes.

“Which one of you called me a bitch?” I swallowed through harsh pants for air, clambering to my feet using Brigid’s sword to aid me.

She roared and came on, incensed by her sister’s death. I watched her blade whip, flash and swipe through the air. I couldn’t hope to be fast enough to deflect her. All I could do was sway and dodge. I stumbled right to avoid one swing, and used her sister’s sword to deflect another. The sword flew out of my hands as she spun into me with another, the force of the impact ripping it from my grip.

My left fist clenched and I punched the blunt edge of her blade with metal knuckles, deflecting it as sparks flew in front of us. She came on again with a series of spins and thrusts. Both of my hands worked frantically in front of me without the excess weight of the sword.

I punched her blade around, dancing in and out of her attacks. Sparks fired off with each metallic clang between us and my fists ached from the force of her enraged swings. I finally dropped low to my knees and spun into her. I struck her bleeding thigh first with one fist, then the other, double clutching her wound with my assault.

She fell and I hit the ground beside her.

I managed to get to my feet first, watching Sinead grip at her wounded hip. I was in no fit state to challenge. I took the time to try to catch at least some of my breath, my arm clutching at my middle, trying to will my diaphragm to slow down, silently begging my lungs to stop burning.

Sinead got her second wind and roared back to her feet, rushing me.

I bounced off of my toes into the air, thrusting both of my legs forward to slam my heels into her face, dropping her where she stood.

My back hit the ground so hard it felt like my brain rattled in my skull. I was spent. It took me longer to get to my feet this time. I grabbed for Sinead’s sword, practically dragging its weight over to her prone, gasping body. My nose was still bleeding, my lip was busted again and my skin was agitated from everywhere the twins had struck me.

“Oh, shit, Charlie... Did you just get your ass kicked? Yeah... you did.” I panted out, “You did just get your ass kicked. You gotta stop doin’ that.” Looking down at Sinead, I lifted the sword’s tip, hovering it over her throat.

I looked down into her smokey gray eyes.

“Am I a good dog now?”

I sank forward.

Her neck gave a sickening crunch.

My wing was dragging by the time I turned around to stumble towards the Perch. The forgefolk’s eyes were on me, staring at me in awe. I swallowed hard, a pained expression on my face.

“It was like... lightning, y’know? Just...”

I tried to explain my moment of revelation. When the light came on upstairs and I realized that not only could I fight back, but that I had to. I couldn’t catch my breath. I lifted a hand and wiggled it in the air, doing my best to gesture my way through a description of an epiphany but it just ended up looking stupid.

I looked into Starland’s face, pushing past some of her kinsmen to get to me, staring wide-eyed. And behind her came Sindri.

“Hey, guys. I’m just gonna...” I pointed at the stairs, lowering myself to crawl up them before I collapsed on the last one. “Just gonna lay down and... don’t- don’t mind me.”

I was gasping as I rolled over and looked up at the sky above. Star stepped into my vision, looking down at me.

“Are you alright, Love?”

“No, ma’am. I don’t think I did it right.”

“What do you mean?” She said, “you did magnificently!”

“It’s,” I swallowed, “it’s too hard. Was way too hard. Hurts so bad.” I let my eyes drift closed.

Starland knelt down beside me and took my bloody hand.

“Can’t breathe, I can’t-” I coughed.

“Chanti!” Starland called for Chanticleer. I heard him pipe up from inside, pushing his way through the crowd.

“Ma’am?” He said. I didn’t open my eyes.

“Fetch a stretcher, Dear.”

“Ma’am,” I heard him start away.

“I’ll let you have a beer if you like, Love. I think you’ve earned it.”

I thought about it. The temptation. Getting drunk sounded amazing right now.

“No,” I was still winded, “Water. I’ll just have water. Thank you.”

“That’s my girl.”

Two things I was sure of.

One, I never felt stronger in my entire life.

And two, I was positive I’d never smoke another cigarette again.