The boy stood silently at the end of the dock as the two men fastened a wide leather belt around his waist. The leather was cold against his bare skin, and that, together with the wind coming in off the harbor, raised goose bumps all over his body. He shivered, and the younger of the two men laughed softly. The older man frowned and shook his head at the irreverence.

The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the sky was growing brighter with the approach of dawn. A small crowd of people had gathered on the shore to watch the ritual. All were adults; children were not permitted to attend. The boy’s mother was at the front of the crowd, trying to keep her nervousness from showing on her face.

The older man turned the boy so he was facing out to sea. The choppy water looked gray in the morning light. A sea bird glided by above, its harsh calls in stark contrast to the silence of group below. Beside the boy sat a large stone with a black iron ring protruding from the top. The younger man fastened a chain from the ring in the stone to the belt around the boy’s waist. Then, for a little while, all was still. At the last moment before sunrise, the older man nodded to the younger man and placed his hand on the boy’s back. The younger man picked up the large stone, straining under the weight, and raised it above his head with both hands. As the sun’s first golden beams spilled over the horizon, the crowd on the shore and the men on the dock shouted in unison, and the boy and the stone were cast into the water.

Telwyn watched as Tam, his younger brother, sank out of sight. The weight of the stone and chain dragged him swiftly downward. Telwyn had forged every link of that chain during the six months since Tam had declared his intention to go through with the ritual. On the dock behind Telwyn, their father was hurriedly pulling a basket up from where it had been tied, hidden from Tam’s view. Inside was a diving belt, like the one Tam was wearing, and a long sturdy rope. After donning the belt and securing the rope to it, he rejoined Telwyn at the end of the dock, peering down into the water. He was counting softly, glancing up at the sun, then back down at the water. Diving too soon could be disastrous.

Reaching the end of his countdown, he thrust the free end of the rope into Telwyn’s hand and dove into the water. Telwyn glanced at his mother. She had walked forward until the waves were lapping around her knees. Her fists were clenched, her eyes fixed on the spot where Tam had gone down.

Telwyn took care that the rope uncoiled smoothly as his father descended. He was deep enough now that Telwyn could hardly see him.

With every moment Telwyn’s nervousness increased. It shouldn’t take this long should it? Had something happened? The rope stopped feeding into the water. He hadn’t felt the two sharp tugs that would signal him to start reeling the rope in. Had he missed them? He gripped the rope tightly, frozen in indecision. He would wait a few more seconds then he would start pulling … but if it wasn’t time yet, if he pulled too soon … Suddenly, finally, the signal came, and Telwyn began hauling the rope in hand over hand as fast as he could. He felt immediately that there was no longer anything attached to the other end. That could mean only one thing. Relief filled him and a wide smile spread over Telwyn’s face.

Even pulling in the rope as fast as he could, Telwyn still had several lengths to go when two figures came into view rising fast toward the surface. They exploded out of the water with a triumphant shout, echoed back by the crowd on the shore.

Tam swam to the edge of the dock and Telwyn reached down to haul him up. Although he had been expecting it, Telwyn was still struck by the change in his brother. His skin had taken on a faint blue color. His neck was split on each side by gills which, now that they were above the water, closed tightly, leaving only thin lines in the skin to mark their existence. As Tam climbed onto the dock, several new-grown fins folded tightly against his skin, becoming little more than ridges of a slightly darker blue. Like their father, he had chosen water.

The slap was like a slamming door. It stunned him and cut off what he was about to say. This was shortly followed by the actual door slamming in front of his stinging face. The door’s dark wood and iron knocker, now only a handspan from his nose, filled his vision. But he was still seeing Jess’ eyes. Usually warm, open, and alive, today had been full of hurt and anger. Daen knocked again. The only response was the snick of the bolt sliding into its socket. He waited a few more seconds, gingerly rubbing his cheek.

Turning, he started along the stone footpath toward the road. He paused a moment, looking at the bouquet of bright spring flowers scattered on the grass. He considered gathering them and setting them on the porch, a reminder of his interrupted apology, but decided against it. They would be harder for her to ignore, strewn about like this. Besides, he was almost late for work. Daen hurried down the path and into the road toward Bel Fall.

* * *

Jess leaned against the inside of the door, her forehead pressed to the thick wood, listening to the sound of Daen’s footsteps receding. Her eyes burned with tears for a moment as she remembered his stunned look, but she quickly blinked them away, then turned back toward the sitting room. She adopted a strong gait, sending the sound of confident footsteps ahead of her as she walked across the stone entryway.  Caddon stood at the window, staring intently out through the rippled glass as if he could speed Daen’s departure by effort of will.

“Are we likely to be interrupted again?”

Jess shook her head.

“That was the blacksmith’s son. He sometimes stops to see me on his way to work in the morning. I don’t know whether he’ll come again, he–”

Caddon, still staring out the window, cut her off. “See that he doesn’t. This is more important than friends and suitors, and you won’t have time for them anymore.”

Jess nodded, trying to push the memory of Daen’s expression out of her mind. Whatever her feelings were, or might have become, Caddon was right. This was more important. Caddon gestured toward a round basin resting on the floor between them.

“Begin again.”

Jess knelt on the cold floor. The basin was polished silver, a handspan tall and three wide. The outside was carved with an intricate web of intersecting lines. The inside was mirror smooth. A blue cloth was draped across the top, hastily thrown there by Caddon when Daen’s knock had sounded at the door.

Earlier Caddon had filled the basin almost to the brim with a strange liquid that flowed like oil. “It is called elith. It’s a training tool. Don’t speak of it to anyone. Like most things I will teach you of, it is forbidden to outsiders.”

Caddon was Jess’ new teacher. He had arrived that morning before dawn. For weeks Jess had been expecting a teacher to arrive and begin her initiate training. Her family followed the old ways, and she was of age. Last week a pigeon from Jess’s mother had brought a letter confirming that a teacher was enroute from Alithia. But Caddon traveled more quickly than expected, and despite a lifetime of knowing this time was coming, Jess felt completely unprepared.

When they had begun training early that morning, the elith had been as clear as water and still. By the time she had left to answer the door it had been swirling with colors, somehow reflecting her thoughts and emotions. Now, as Jess lifted the front corner of the blue covering, she expected to find the elith clear once more. The elith was black and thick like tar, its surface rippled with motion as if small creatures swam just beneath. Startled, she jerked her hand back, the cloth falling back over the basin. 

Caddon finally turned away from the window. Seeing the basin still covered, he frowned in irritation.

“What are you waiting for. I said begin again.”

Jess pulled back the cloth again. The elith was a mix of colors, swirling gently. Nothing like the black rippling liquid she had seen moments ago. She looked up, surprised, but before the question could form on her lips, Caddon spoke again, insistent.

“Concentrate. Will the elith to change.”

Jess cupped her hands around the basin and stared into the liquid, holding her breath. The first exercise Caddon had set for her was to change the elith from clear to white, using only her will. She had been at it for two hours when Daen had knocked. During that time the elith had changed to nearly every color of the rainbow, but never white. As the thought of Daen crossed her mind, the liquid began to turn green—the green of Daen’s eyes.

Caddon laughed softly, without humor.

“That’s a pretty color.  Does your uncle know how you feel about the blacksmith’s boy? Maybe I should write the Warmaster and let him know his niece will be unable to continue her training because she is preoccupied with other important matters.”

Jess blushed darkly and pressed her lips together. The elith was now taking on a red hue.

“Shame and anger are both red emotions. I think I see hints of both there now.”

Jess struggled for calm.

“I could put that bowl in front of any child in the kingdom, and the elith would change colors for them. That’s why it is useful as a training tool. It requires no strength to change it. It reflects changes in the nearest unspent human mind, emotions and thoughts, conscious and unconscious. But unless you learn control, you will never be able to influence anything but elith. Or worse, you could lose control completely and spend your mind all at once, like the locals do.”

As Jess absorbed Caddon’s words, the liquid in the bowl returned to black. Despair maybe? But unlike before, it was flat and lifeless. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Focus. Concentrate.

* * *

Daen passed through the massive gates of Bel Fall. The city’s wide streets were already crowded with people. Located near the border between Fall and Alithia, the merchants of Bel Fall had long profited from the patronage of travelers between the two kingdoms, and that hadn’t changed despite rumors that a war was coming. The high demand for skilled apprentices had made it worth Daen’s while to make the long walk every day from the sleepy village of Red Vale, where his father’s blacksmith shop stood, to Bel Fall where Daen worked as an apprentice to Master Telwyn.

Daen turned down the road that followed the inside of the city wall until he reached the shop. It was a wide low building with stone walls and clay shingles. The forge was already glowing. Kent, Master Telwyn’s oldest son, was tending the fire.

“Morning, Kent.”

“Morning, Daen.”

“Any new orders in? It will only take me a little longer to finish the halberds for the castle order. I should be done with those by noon.”

“A cobbler brought in some tools to be sharpened, and he placed an order for a new punch. Also, two merchant guards brought in gear with some broken rivets to be … Wow! What happened to your face? You have a nice red handprint on your cheek. I’ve never managed to earn a slap so early in the morning! Who was she? What did you do?”

Daen shrugged uncomfortably. “I broke a promise. I don’t want to talk about it.” He could tell Kent wanted more, but his tone was enough to discourage questions. 

He rubbed his cheek again, and set his tools on the senior apprentice anvil, his anvil. He had worked hard for his place here. Master Telwyn had promoted him to senior apprentice after only six months, but Daen had been swinging a hammer from the time he was strong enough to lift one in his father’s shop. He had always known he would be a blacksmith. Did Jess expect him to just give it up? 

Daen retrieved the halberd head from where he had left it the day before and carried it to the forge. It was almost finished. The long curved blade, like an oversized axe, and the sharp steel spike both needed a little final shaping. Then the halberd would be hardened, tempered, sharpened and mounted on one of the sturdy staves stacked in the corner, ready for some soldier in the Fallian army.

Daen stepped into the rhythm of his work, heating the dark metal in the forge until it glowed almost white, forging it with precise hammer blows. Then back into the forge again. But he was thinking of Jess. He had known she would be disappointed, but hadn’t expected her to be so angry.

It had been early winter when they’d met. Daen had been walking home at the end of his third day as Master Telwyn’s apprentice and had come across Jess and her housekeeper, Helen, stopped in the road. They had been returning home after a visit with friends in Bel Fall, when Helen slipped and fell on the frozen ground. The fall had twisted Helen’s knee, leaving her unable to walk, so Daen had carried the old woman the rest of the way to her home. Jess had been reserved, but Helen insisted that Daen stop and eat dinner with them before going on his way. 

For the next few days, Daen had stopped by the house to check in on Helen, and by the time Helen was back on her feet, Jess had warmed to him as well. After that Daen had made a habit of stopping by the house on his way to and from Bel Fall. He had started leaving home earlier in the morning so he would have time to stop and talk. Jess had become his friend, and until today, Daen had harbored hope the friendship would grow into something more.

When he visited last week, Jess had been adamant. “Most people think an Awakening makes you more than human. But that’s not so. It makes you less. It spends the spark inside you all at once and leaves you empty. I know you don’t understand the old ways, but please, Daen, just promise you will hear me out before you commit to an Awakening. There is another path. It’s a longer, harder path, but it is a better one. I promise.”

So he had promised to wait and listen to what she had to say. But then his father had come to visit him at work. Master Telwyn had brought up the topic of Daen’s Awakening, and his father had asked about setting a day for the ritual. It had been a foregone conclusion for years, after all, that he would undergo a fire Awakening. He was a blacksmith’s apprentice; he wanted, needed, the abilities a fire Awakening would give him. So today he had brought flowers to soften the news that he had set a day for his Awakening. The flowers hadn’t helped.

Jess and her family were followers of the old ways, the only ones Daen had ever met. Neither her father nor her mother had undergone an Awakening, and Jess was committed to the same tradition. Daen had known this, but he still hadn’t anticipated the depth of her anger and hurt over his decision.

His thoughts were interrupted by Master Telwyn’s large ash-gray hand on his shoulder.

“Daen, you’re undoing the good work you did yesterday.”

As he spoke, Master Telwyn reached out and touched the glowing metal with his finger, tracing the uneven hammer marks Daen had left on the halberd’s spike.

“You’ve made it too thin here. Go more gently, lad.”

Master Telwyn palmed the unfinished halberd, still glowing red with heat, and set it back in the forge. He scooped handfuls of burning coals into place and motioned for Daen to work the bellows. Daen pumped steadily, watching the metal brighten from red to yellow, then even more until it was almost white. Master Telwyn, arms inside the forge up to his elbows, carefully molded the metal with his fingers as if it were soft river clay. Soon the marks Daen’s hammer had left in the spike were gone. Master Telwyn took his hands from the forge and stood.

“The spike can be finished now; take care not to draw it out too thin or it won’t have the needed strength.”

Before Daen could respond, Master Telwyn patted his shoulder and turned away.

Embarrassed, Daen returned to his work, trying to put Jess and the problem of his Awakening out of his mind. He wasn’t entirely successful, but he was able to keep his attention focused on his work enough that the rest of the day passed without incident. Kent was out running errands, so Daen tidied the shop alone, placing tools and stock in their places. By the time he had finished, it was early evening, and the day’s warmth was quickly fading. Hanging his leather apron on the door, Daen gathered his tool kit and and started for home.