“It is time to move onto the next step,” Rakim’s voice resounded towards his left, ripping Arakiel from the brief but intense moment of unfiltered bliss.

  Arakiel wanted to criticize himself for letting his attention slip this way, but a single glance at his beloved was enough to wash such worries aside. He let go of Aurora whose face might mirror his own given how warm and fuzzy he felt – and yet there was something else in her expression.

  It took him a second to figure it out, but it had to be focus or rather, concentration.

  In this regard, it was time for him to step up, too.

  The lips formed the words on their own. “What now?” Arakiel queried, turning towards the Godsbinder without letting go of Aurora.

  A door opened behind him, followed by soft footsteps.

  Judging by Rakim’s very brief shift in attention, it had to be Aktaie.

  “You watch and remain conscious.” The smith replied while the spectral crimson hammer – his Runelord’s insignia – manifested in his right hand. Meanwhile, several divine sparks scattered towards different parts of the room at a speed that Arakiel’s eyes could not follow.

  The workshop came to life right as Rakim gripped his insignia’s handle. The forge’s fire lit up in gilded, smokeless flames while the six different materials that had been laid out liquefied on the spot, only to then flow upwards into a sort of invisible sphere that contained their essence. These differently-colored liquids then floated to the side, above a sizable pale, grey anvil. It was located right next to the forge.

  Aktaie, who wore the same style of clothes as yesterday, just a shade lighter, entered Arakiel’s view. She held a solid bar of softly shimmering gold: naara.

  It had been a good long while since Arakiel saw such a large, solid chunk of godgold, with the last time reminding him of a certain break-in at a particularly high-profile treasury and a rather unfortunate string of events.

  Meanwhile, Aurora squeezed his hands just a little more tightly. He responded gently in kind, not intending to disturb her further than necessary.

  Instead, he kept his attention onto the living legend whose work he was about to witness.

  A part of him was curious while another part got downright excited.

  The Runelord smith slowly walked over towards the anvil. As he did, more of his sparks began to scatter towards the liquids, towards the naara and somewhere that Arakiel didn’t quite catch.

  Rakim had but three remaining by the time he reached the anvil. The Divine Offering didn’t immediately hand over the bar of naara, however; instead, Aktaie suddenly held the bar upside down while streaks of red began to stream down at the side.

  Arakiel squinted.

  Blood?

  The akh smith held his own free left hand right underneath the bar of gold and for a tiny moment, the two of them stood still. Only their gazes met.

  And then – as if by some secret input – the pair started to bring their outstretched hands together while the remaining three divine sparks began to circulate the gold-red bar of naara.

  Arakiel couldn’t quite believe his eyes when the solid godgold in front of him got slowly squeezed by some form of invisible pressure even though Rakim’s hand never touched it.

  But he observed Rakim’s body tensing up, noticed the Runelord physically exerting himself as he pushed against boundaries imperceptible to the naked eye and it took more than two minutes until the naara strewn with blood had been reduced or perhaps condensed to a tinier golden bar with notable crimson streaks.

  Right when their hands met, Aktaie suddenly stumbled as if struck by a sudden rush of weakness. She would’ve collapsed had the smith not pulled her into his arms.

  With a mere, shallow flick of his hand, a chair was flung over from somewhere in the room upon which Rakim guided his Divine Offering whose eyes had dimmed slightly. This little action had somehow drained her of quite a bit of strength.

  Aurora and Arakiel looked upon the scene in silence and yet he could tell by the way which the Godsbinder treated Aktaie that these two cared deeply about one another.

  They had a history and Arakiel could only guess that it had indeed been a long one filled with many ups and downs, with nigh uncountable amounts of twists and turns. In his view, there was no mistaking the bond they shared: the little snippets of emotion he had glimpsed, the way Rakim seemed genuinely hurt beneath his focused veneer, the manner in which Aktaie slightly dug her fingers into her man’s hardened flesh as she slipped from his grasp – it all hinted towards it.

  He wouldn’t paint an entire picture, but he had seen enough to understand the gist of it.

  But none of that remained when the akh smith turned his attention towards Arakiel and Aurora, his gilded gaze eyeing them like a Bejeweled Councilor would any citizen of a minor plane.

  Arakiel had to give it his all to not cower in fear and awe at the Godsbinder’s stifling presence and while it was now his turn to squeeze Aurora’s hand, she didn’t seem bothered at all. If anything, his seraphine held a glint of curiosity, but certainly not one of awe.

  Rakim’s lips widened ever so slightly as he focused his attention on the task at hand which in turn freed Arakiel from whatever the akh had done.

  He breathed a sigh of relief and another quick glance towards Aurora reassured him that she was truly fine.

  Nine motes of light returned to the Runelord’s right arm as he put the small ingot of naara onto the anvil. He then reached for a pair of tongs and with another small gesture, the tenth golden mote shot towards one of the liquid spheres. It somehow caused the content to stream towards the ingot.

  Rakim raised the item in his hand, causing it to become coated, engulfed even in the platinum-colored liquid and right when the tenth spark returned, the smith put the ingot into the golden fire.

  From one moment to another, Arakiel suddenly felt a scorching heat emanate from the forge, but while the fire radiated heat, it was utterly silent and smokeless.

  Whatever it used to fuel its existence remained silent as well, leaving the room in an odd state – but it did not last long, for the heat faded as soon as the Runelord pulled out the ingot whose surface now glowed in both gold and platinum-grey of unequal measure. Furthermore, the surface seemed to constantly swirl about, almost as if it was alive.

  Rakim immediately raised his spectral hammer while two sparks entered the tool, giving it a golden sheen. Judging by his expression, he was deeply focused on the task at hand.

  And then he brought the hammer down and although it shouldn’t be, a loud ringing sound practically exploded forth, shaking Arakiel’s very core. It appeared almost as if his very bones reverberated from the sound. Sparks scattered and for a split-moment, the heat returned, only to vanish right away.

  From what Arakiel could tell, the ingot’s surface had calmed somewhat.

  The smith raised his hammer once more while turning the ingot and just like earlier, his bone-shattering strike brought a blaze of sparks and heat.

  The second strike had thoroughly calmed the surface.

  He didn’t strike a third time.

  Rakim let another spark of divinity escape over towards one of the floating spheres of liquid. This time, he chose a silvery one, but the divine spark didn’t pull the material over right away.

  Instead, Aktaie rose once again and reached for the ingot. Somehow, she could just touch the piece of metal that had been blazing hot just a moment ago.

  The pair repeated the earlier process where the Divine Offering held the ingot upside down while bathing it in her blood whereas the Runelord compressed it.

  What followed was similar, but not exactly the same as last time: Rakim coated the ingot with the liquid material, heated up the forge and treated the ingot whose swirly surface then held three colors of unequal measure.

  Like earlier, every strike of the Godsbinder’s hammer calmed the surface and he needed three in total.

  Aktaie was called to action once more and the entire process repeated, requiring one more strike for every iteration until all seven layers had been worked into the godgold at which point Rakim considered the polychrome ‘billet’ complete. It appeared so tiny compared to the solid bar of godgold that it had once been.

  Arakiel, having been pulled closer by Aurora, watched the man work in silent awe. He was well aware of the privilege he had been given and he would not squander it. To see a demigod work his class – and not just any demigod: the smith of the legendary Godsbinders, one of the first planeswalking parties and liberators of many planes, among which were the Eternal Cities.

  The focus, the precision, the efficiency – Arakiel was most certainly not a craftsman, but even a layman such as him could at least grasp a gleam of Rakim’s utter perfection: the akh didn’t do a single unnecessary movement, didn’t waste any time or material.

  As soon as the Runelord had created the billet, he fired up the forge once more and when he had sufficiently heated the material, he began to work on a piece that had turned somehow monochrome gold once more.

  Arakiel could only surmise that Rakim had infused the naara with all sorts of properties, perhaps a multilayered alloy of some kind.

  This time, Rakim began to work ‘in earnest’, having no intention of calming the billet’s surface once more. The stage had moved on to drawing out the metal, to give it proper shape, a proper form.

  An almost rhythmic canopy of sounds followed, one where a craftsman gave purpose to a piece by manner of tools.

  At some point, Aurora let her head rest against Arakiel’s chest and if she didn’t keep her eyes open, he would’ve thought her asleep.

  Together, they watched the Godsbinder work his divine magic, saw him iron out a thin sheet of metal, witnessed him form a straight, tapered blade.

  Sometime later, a sweat-drenched Rakim turned their way, calling over Aurora with a slightly fatigued voice. Arakiel tagged along, confused by the dagger’s blade he saw laid out on the smith’s anvil.

  It was undoubtedly a weapon’s blade, not a conventional hilt in any way, shape or form that Arakiel knew. Furthermore, it wasn’t entirely gold despite the billet having appeared as such in the early stages. Most of the blade had the dull gleam of naara, but the metal around the edges had turned utterly black… black as void.

  Arakiel tried to voice his confusion, but Rakim thoroughly ignored him. Instead, he instructed Aurora to pull out the divine spark.

  His seraphine followed suit right away, presenting the Runelord with a brilliant mote of golden light that she then placed right atop the blade’s golden portion.

  When nothing happened right away, both Aurora and Arakiel became a little uneasy given that they squeezed each other’s hand quite tightly… an action they had done so often nowadays. And given the confidence it gave either one, it most certainly wouldn’t be the last time.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  And just as Arakiel was about to voice his concerns, the mote of light suddenly started to sink into the gold. He choked on his word and watched with bated breath to the sound of his own heartbeat that seemed to accelerate in anticipation.

  A moment passed. Arakiel squinted his eyes to discern even the slightest of differences even though he couldn’t quite say why he did so.

  Another moment went by and still, nothing… nothing but slightly accelerating breaths and a soft tingle on his skin.

  To the side, Aurora’s expression showed worry as well and when she looked up towards Rakim, he merely motioned them to observe longer still.

  Several minutes of intense silence passed in which Arakiel wondered whether something had gone wrong. Had either of them made a mistake? Had there been any complications?

  His mind went wild with speculation all until a part of blade’s dull gold suddenly began to radiate a soft golden gleam which spread upward. It had started right at the blade’s bottom, where Aurora had put the divine spark. It traveled along the gold, infusing it with life or at least a soft sheen.

  The black, however, remained utterly unaffected.

  “Good,” Rakim noted contently as he picked up his workpiece, examining it with a critical eye. The full twelve sparks still circled him, but the sheen in his eyes had dimmed even if it was still there. “Barely any loss in purity. You did well, immortal.”

  “Naturally,” Aurora responded in an assured manner while looking over towards Arakiel. He could tell that she was exceedingly exhausted underneath, but the fact that she tried to keep up an act all while wearing this most charming of smiles. It made him fall for her all over once more.

  “I gave your regalia my all, my beloved Monarch-to-be,” Aurora then went on to say, her voice growing softer with every word.

  “Thank you, my seraphine. I will not squander this gift,” Arakiel returned confidently. He meant every single word in more than one way, but actions spoke louder than words.

  He would prove his worth.

  “With the link’s anchor established, we have succeeded in the first step of fashioning your soulsparked link, Arakiel ni Alexandria.” Rakim noted as he put the blade down once more. The golden part of the blade had dulled.

  “But this is a blade, not a hilt?” Arakiel wondered aloud.

  “It is a hilt, just not in the conventional sense that you think of,” Rakim corrected. He seemed quite amused about this.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Aurora agreed.

  “You will see and eventually understand in time. For today, you are excused… but I will require your cooperation over the coming days.” The Godsbinder went on to say, once more looking over towards Aurora. “For the next three days, you are permitted to ‘greet the dawn’ as you put it, but you must bring the result to me.”

  Aurora didn’t respond right away, instead looking over towards Arakiel. Feeling as though he lacked so much information, he opted to ask at least one question.

  “What do you need them for?”

  Rakim pointed towards the part where the dagger’s blade began. “Your immortal possesses three paths, does she not? To make the most out of your soulsparked link, I will need to align the blade to each path’s essence before I temper and finish it.”

  “I think I understand,” Arakiel responded slowly.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” the smith noted as the divine sparks entered his body once more. At the same time, his Runelord’s insignia vanished and when the golden sheen in his eyes faded, Arakiel could make out quite a bit of worry.

  The akh stepped over towards Aktaie who seemed devoid of strength, given how she sat slumped into the chair.

  Arakiel pulled Aurora close and when she stumbled into his arms, he realized that she must’ve exerted herself just as much.

  He picked his seraphine up without further ado. She barely reacted towards it, instead opting to merely rest her head against his shoulder while the rest of her body maintained the bare minimum of tension.

  “You did well, my love.” He whispered and left the room, intending to give Rakim and Aktaie the privacy they most likely wanted. It turned into a bit of an effort to get through the door’s frame without disturbing Aurora too much, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

  By the time he left the workshop, Aurora had fallen asleep in his arms.

  Arakiel brought her all the way down to the residence’s courtyard, where he gently laid her down in the shade of a tree while outside, the Great Duality went on.

  Rakim had to have some sort of porous sound barrier around his house, given how little the outside world’s sounds crept in despite its very central location.

  Arakiel sat down beside Aurora to take in the moment.

  The grass underneath was lush green despite the heat. The air around him had a certain coolness and it scented of grass, roses and subtle savory spices.

  This place, this little garden with the pool – an oasis of calm right in the center of one of the busiest places on this plane.

  A kind of luxury that only few people could afford.

  He indulged in it, closed his eyes and just took it all in.

  Calm.

  He felt calm, despite everything.

  In a way, it had to be because of his growing confidence.

  There was so much to do, but he didn’t feel overwhelmed.

  He could do this.

  No, he would.

  Sometime later, he heard someone approach on soft steps. His little sister’s quiet voice followed soon afterwards.

  “Thou looketh brilliant,” Mellia praised.

  Judging by the sounds, she sat down beside him, but Arakiel didn’t want to open his eyes right now, nor did he respond right away. He wanted the calm to persist just a smidgen longer.

  Mellia respected his decision.

  Time passed and at some point, Aurora must’ve once again taken hold of one of his hands. Or perhaps it had been the other way around.

  Eventually, he responded in a low tone. “It went well.”

  “It was never in doubt, Arakiel,” Mellia returned and this time, he lightly tilted his head and opened his eyes.

  Despite her rather neutral tone, his sister’s green, gold-speckled eyes looked at him quite proudly.

  “You look quite beautiful as well.” He commented, praised, stated genuinely. Mellia had draped the wavy ginger hair over her left shoulder and this, in combination with the akh clothes, the sun’s radiant lighting and everything else… it made her appear sublime.

  And when she blushed in a surprisingly innocent manner at his praise, it only heightened this estimation.

  Arakiel couldn’t help but smile. He had spent so little time with Mellia in the grand scheme of things, and yet he held her very dear, closer than any other sibling with the exception of Arene and Chryse.

  His little sister cleared her throat, regained her composure and then softly pinched Arakiel’s cheek. “Praise me more.”

  “I’ll leave that to whomever you eventually choose, sister dearest.” Arakiel teased back while lifting himself up to a sitting position. “Nonetheless, I mean it. You needn’t conceal yourself. I’ll…”

  “While I care little for the attention of lesser beings, I shall not inconvenience you, brother dearest.” Mellia responded, slightly shaking her head.

  “I mean it,” Arakiel pushed back adamantly. “I will take care of everyone who comes even close to making you uncomfortable.”

  Mellia giggled. “I am aware, Arakiel. Hence mine decision, lest you rid the minor planes of all future subjects.”

  She then cleared her throat once more, saying in a more poised tone. “I am serious, Arakiel. I truly appreciate thine care, for it allows me to make mine own choices. So please, respect them.”

  It took him a second to understand her line of thinking, but when he did, he merely nodded in affirmation. “Of course, Mellia.”

  She beamed a smile at him, seemingly content with the way he reacted. “Now… did mother grace thee with directions on whence we’ll go hereafter?”

  Arakiel didn’t respond right away, instead opting to look his sister’s reaction over closely. From what he could gleam, she was really curious about his answer.

  He briefly skimmed his own thoughts and then responded in earnest. “She did not, yet I cannot help but wonder.”

  “About what?” Mellia queried.

  “Mother must’ve known that it’d take Master Rakim far longer to fashion the gear other than the soulsparked link,” Arakiel began to muse. “So we’re really here just for two weeks, then?”

  “Mayhap – or doth thou think that there is something else we are meant to accomplish here?”

  He shrugged. “I do not know…”

  “What doth thou intend to do afterwards? Our family hath accepted thee, after all.” Mellia then queried.

  “You’re alluding to me starting my own party once again… is that correct?”

  “Doth thou not wish to do so?”

  His first reaction was to decline, but he stopped himself from doing so. After all, he had sworn to move on, to march onward and look towards the future. In this future, he could not do things on his own and even if Ezekiel returned, they still had a need for more people.

  “I will do that… but it needs to be handled carefully.” Arakiel returned thoughtfully while his gaze wandered across the courtyard’s white wall until it eventually returned to Mellia once more. His sister gifted him an uplifting smile.

  “Your family stands with you, Arakiel.” Mellia said plainly, having broken her characteristic once again. “I will say it as often as you need to hear it.”

  Mellia then approached him, reaching for other hand. “Look at me, Arakiel,” she said in a most serious tone once more. “Look me in the eyes.”

  Taken by surprise, he did just that. There, in Mellia’s wondrously emerald irises, he saw her sincerity, far more than her words could ever convey.

  “We will stand with you, Arakiel. What happened there… we will help you amend it. We will help you make it right.”

  He should’ve been prepared at the sudden pain in his heart, but it still caught him, still stung, still hurt. Unknowingly, he squeezed both Aurora’s and Mellia’s hands perhaps a bit too tightly.

  “Make it right…” Arakiel muttered in a low voice, letting their meaning sink into him. Slowly, he began to nod. “Yes… make it right, that’s what I need to do. To correct, to wash away the stain.”

  “Arakiel, please listen to me!” Mellia implored intensely. “Rely on us in this manner. They are not something you can overcome on your own.”

  “You said as much earlier,” he noted, his mind half-buried in thought.

  “And I’ll say it again and again until you get it in that thick skull of yours, brother.” Mellia went on to say, still sounding as soft as ever.

  “So you’ll tell her?” Arakiel reasoned, unsure how exactly he had come to that conclusion.

  His little sister shook her head.

  “No, I promised I wouldn’t and so I won’t. That is for you to decide but if… no when you tell mother, you will not regret it. I promise you.”

  “You’re breaking character,” He pointed out.

  Mellia rolled her eyes, but there was a certain lightness in her tone all the same. “Not now, Arakiel. You won’t distract me this time.”

  That tone shifted. “I implore you to take these weeks to make up your mind for good. You can talk to me whenever you feel the need to. I wasn’t as… impacted as you or Aurora, but I was there with you all the same.”

  “You’re right, Mellia.” Arakiel affirmed and although he would’ve liked to say that his inner turmoil was thoroughly subdued, it was not the case. He had been shown that bitter truth time and time again. Perhaps it’d never heal in full, but Mellia was correct. Just like Rakim had been… and in a way, Aurora was the same.

  He had to move on.

  “Thank you,” he eventually said once again, letting go off Mellia’s hand. “I might just do that.”

  He paused briefly, asking. “How about you, though? Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Mellia chuckled at the sudden concern, clearing her throat for a third time. This time, her tone had a slightly mocking undertone. “If thou couldst get thine act together, I’d be elated, o brother dearest.”

  Arakiel chuckled in response because in a way, his own behavior was and had been laughable.

  It might not have been Mellia’s intention, but she was correct all the same.

  The time for half measures had come and gone.

  Arakiel let go of Aurora and got up, holding out a hand to Mellia. “Walk with me, will you?”

  Another smile hushed across his sister’s face, just as bright as the last.

  “Certainly.”