The ethereal copy of the Fairy Queen moved smoothly, as if her body was made of moonlight and morning mist. She glided down the corridor, leaving a trail of small firefly sparks that shimmered softly in the air.
As I followed her, I felt a slight pressure on my shoulders, as if the kingdom itself was watching my every move. The walls, adorned with living vines and crystal crystals, whispered softly, as if sharing ancient secrets.
Mor Adeline, or at least her ethereal shadow, turned around.
—The Guardian of the Ant's Nest's Roots... You know, my child, that he is no longer the same as he once was. Once he was a simple breast, but over the centuries, a dark and hopeless poison has seeped into his mind. He has lost himself, his will, and now he serves only the silent instinct of destruction.
I froze in place, my heart sinking with foreboding, but I did not lower my gaze.
—I know, but I have no choice. This fight... it's not just a test. It's the key to the next step.
The ethereal copy of the Fairy Queen flew behind me and whispered:
—The risk you're taking is more than just fighting a monster. Sometimes, the battle against the poison outside is a reflection of the battle against the poison inside. I hope you're ready for both.
Walking down the corridor, I answered Mor Adelina without fear:
— The fact is that bad people want to know my secrets, and they've decided to hunt me down... and... and I've found a way out: I need to defeat Nemorrino with my friends.
Mor Adelina laughed.
—You seem too reckless to me, just like I was in my younger years.
—You're right... but I'll try not to lose... and those who choose to go with me will do their best.
—But that doesn't change the fact that your weapons are too weak right now, and they could all be destroyed after 30 minutes of combat... at least that's what my intuition tells me.
Mor Adeline raised her hand slightly, pointing to the massive door at the end of the corridor. Its surface was charred, as if it had been touched by the flames of ancient blacksmithing.
The metal was covered with patterns that had once shone silver, but now they were darkened and shimmered with a dull red light, as if fire still breathed beneath them.
—Let's go, let's go!
Mor Adeline said with a slight smile, her ethereal form barely containing her impatience.
—Do you see that door? Open it and step back quickly. If you don't want your skin to sizzle like a lizard's at noon, you'd better move fast.
I frowned, but I obeyed. A soft warmth radiated from the door, at first bearable, then unbearable, as if the heart of a volcano lay behind it.
I reached out. The door's panels seemed smooth, but I could feel vibrations beneath my fingers, as if the metal were alive and breathing.
At the same moment, a sharp heat struck my face. I instinctively jumped to the side in time. A thick cloud of smoke, mixed with fiery sparks, burst out from behind the door. The air hummed as if a trapped spirit of the forge had finally been freed.
The heat was so intense that my hair almost caught on fire. The taste of burning filled my mouth. I coughed, waving away the smoke, and said with irony:
—A little more and I'd make a pretty good French-fried toad.
More Adeline laughed softly, her laughter ringing like wind chimes.
—That's right. Don't worry, it'll get cooler... although that's not certain.
She said, gliding towards the open door, beyond which could be seen the flickering of hot crystals and fiery streams, intertwining as if alive.
The flames in the furnaces danced to the beat of the hammers, and waves of light ran along the walls, as if the very space breathed magic.
It was not just a place of craftsmanship, but a living organism, where every sound and spark had its own purpose.
I stood on the threshold, stunned by what I saw. Small male fairies scurried about, not the delicate creatures that usually fluttered among flowers, but hardworking individuals with dust and soot covering their faces.
Magical symbols glittered on their bodies, and their eyes burned with focus.
Each of them skillfully handled the metal as if it were a living creature. When a fairy raised their hand, an emerald aura [Aura Separation] flared around it.
This energy instantly enveloped their hands, making them larger, denser, and stronger than human hands. Ethereal muscles grew from their transparent limbs, pulsating with tension, and these ghostly hands lifted heavy ingots that an ordinary person could not even move.
The heat was so intense that the air was shimmering like a desert. But the fairies moved calmly, as if the heat had no effect on them.
They were throwing metal from one smelter to another, striking sparks that resembled miniature comets.
Every movement was part of a precise, measured ritual, as if they were not just forging, but carving fate from the hot iron.
One of the fairies noticed me and nodded slightly without stopping. The others did not even look up, as their time and attention were solely focused on their craft.
Mor Adeline, observing the scene, spoke softly:
—It is not just blades that are born here... it is the souls of weapons that are created.
Her voice echoed off the stone walls, and the hammering began again, as if to confirm her words.
The Queen of the Fairies looked around the hot forge, where everything hummed, sparkled, and shimmered with enchantment. A soft yet commanding smile appeared on her face.
—Where is my son? We will leave everything to him. He is the one in charge.
Her ethereal copy rose slightly into the air, as if enhancing the effect of her mistress's presence, and added with a touch of irony:
—Ah yes, here he is. Let me introduce, Disava my son and Fritte's elder brother, Jopp. He is the owner of this smithy.
A silhouette appeared from the depths of the workshop. Between the hot streams of steam and sparks, a fae man of average height by his people's standards slowly flew by, with short, copper-red hair that sparkled in the glare of the flames, as if woven from the thin threads of the sunset.
His wings were different from the transparent, fragile membranes of ordinary fairies; they were dense, with a pattern resembling autumn leaves: shades of amber, red, and gold flowed from the tips, as if autumn itself had touched his wings.
There were no emotions on his face, only calmness and a slight focus. He exuded a sense of balanced power, not loud but palpable.
Jopp flew closer, landing on a stone ledge near the smelting cauldron. He held a small anvil made of crystallized mana in his hands, a personal tool, judging by the way he touched it.
—Unfortunately, he doesn't speak.
The Fairy Queen said softly, as if anticipating my surprise.
—After an incident, his voice is intertwined with bells. But that doesn't stop him from being one of the best blacksmiths not only in our kingdom, but in all of Loga Apofis.
Jopp smiled slightly and raised his hand, looking at me. Small bells made of silver and glowing pollen glass hung on his fingers. He waved his hand slightly, and a soft but clear melody rang out, like the whisper of the wind in an autumn garden.
*Jingle... jingle...*
Fritte jumped up in the air and waved his arms happily:
—He says 'pleased to meet you' and 'pleased to help.'
He translated with pride, as if he were the brother of a great hero.
The ethereal copy of Mor Adelina bowed her head.
—Well, now you've met.
Her voice sounded mysterious.
—Jopp is silent, but his hands remember ancient forms. He can feel the soul of a weapon, and if he deems it worthy, he will help you reforge yours.
The bells on Jopp's arm rang out again, this time a little louder, as if welcoming me into a world where words were replaced by sounds and the forge's flames were a language of power.