110 - The First Mold

  Jasper swam determinedly through the village corridors, his small body vibrating with an almost feverish urgency. His mind burned like an ember in need of fuel, an uncontrollable desire to learn something that seemed to call out to him. But along with the excitement, there was also a shadow of anxiety. He couldn't fail. He couldn't be left behind. There was only one person who could help him.

  He found Nexha on one of the platforms, focused on feeding Neblina with sour fruits. The baby seagull ate as if it had no bottom. Jasper approached hesitantly but without fear. He tugged on Nexha's fin to get his attention.

  — Nexha...

  His older brother looked up, blinking a few times before noticing Jasper there. He raised an eyebrow.

  — What is it, Jasper? Are you hungry? — Nexha asked distractedly, placing Neblina on the stone floor.

  Jasper shook his head, biting his lower lip before taking a deep breath and trying again.

  — Forge... teach me...

  Nexha frowned.

  — Huh? Teach you what?

  Jasper clenched his small hands, frustrated that he couldn't say everything at once.

  — To forge! — he blurted out, his face flushing. — I want to learn!

  The older one blinked, processing the request for a moment. Then, he laughed.

  — No way. You're way too small! — Nexha crossed his arms. — The furnace is too hot, the hammer is too heavy… you wouldn’t even be able to hold it properly.

  — Yes, I can! — Jasper retorted, his small tail flicking in frustration. — I want to learn... now!

  Nexha sighed and ran a hand over his face. He knew that look.

  Jasper wasn’t going to give up easily, and if he refused, he’d be getting a few bites from his grumpy little brother.

  — Look, forging isn’t just about hammering hot metal until it looks nice. There’s technique, patience, and you can get seriously hurt. — He crouched down to be at his brother’s level. — You don’t even have the strength to lift a hammer properly, Jasper.

  The little one frowned, his lips pressing into a thin line, but his frustration wasn’t with Nexha.

  He lowered his gaze to his own hands—small and fragile compared to the greatness of what he wanted to achieve. His fingers trembled slightly before curling into fists. When he lifted his head to meet his brother’s eyes again, they shone with an intense, almost desperate determination.

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  — Then… I start small. No fire, no hammer. Just… how to do it first.

  Nexha opened his mouth to protest but stopped. It was true that forging wasn’t just about fire and metal. Before anything else, it was about making molds. Creating the shapes even before melting the metal. It was delicate work, and that… maybe Jasper could do.

  — Alright. But no fire for now! I’ll teach you how to make the molds first, got it?

  Jasper brightened up, his small tail wagging as he climbed onto the platform.

  — Got it!

  — Alright. First, we need clay. And a lot of patience. — Nexha grabbed a block of clay and placed it in front of Jasper. — The first thing we do is shape the object we want to create. If you mess up here, you’ll mess up the metal too.

  Jasper nodded, watching every movement his brother made as he began to mold a small nail out of clay, demonstrating the process. The little triton grabbed his own portion of clay, trying to imitate Nexha, his tongue pressed between his lips as he focused intensely on the task.

  Nexha chuckled at his brother’s serious expression.

  — You’re the grumpiest clownfish I’ve ever met.

  Jasper grumbled but didn’t take his attention off his work. He was going to learn. And once he did, no one would leave him behind.

  Jasper wanted to make a fish-shaped mold but failed multiple times. With each attempt, his small clay creation fell apart, either because it was too wet or because his trembling hands squeezed too hard. He tried to correct it, redid the details with dedication, only to see the shape crumble again.

  His eyes began to sting with frustration, his breathing becoming short and irritated. He clenched his fists tightly, his chest knotting in a tight grip. Why couldn’t he do it? Why wouldn’t his hands obey? He wanted to scream but only gritted his teeth, feeling the anger rise inside him like a relentless tide.

  He was pulled from his trance when a hand touched his own.

  — You’re getting too frustrated in just the first step… Jasper, it doesn’t need to be perfect, nothing is… you need to be calmer.

  Jasper looked at Nexha, who now had the baby seagull making a nest on his head. He almost laughed but held back. Then, he glanced at the misshapen clay fish in his hands.

  — I’ll try...

  Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his shoulders and let his hands move more carefully, trying to mold the fish again. His heart still pounded, but he focused on every detail, feeling the texture of the clay between his fingers. Small imperfections appeared, but this time, he didn’t let frustration take over. He just continued, breathing slowly, until the shape finally started to look like what he wanted.

  — I finished… now what?

  Nexha took the fish and placed it next to the nail, setting it under the sun. Then he turned to Jasper.

  — Now we wait for them to dry completely.

  — Will it take long?

  — A lot. But now we move on to the next step—the mold.

  Nexha grabbed pieces of moray eel bamboo and sand, and for the rest of the day, he patiently taught Jasper how to make the molds. When Nalu came to take Jasper home for his afternoon nap, Nexha lit the furnace.

  He filled a stone pot with some pieces of copper and let them melt under the intense heat. He took the molds and, with patience, pressed the hardened clay model multiple times, creating multiple nail molds. When he finished, his gaze landed on the small misshapen fish beside the nails.

  He remained silent for a moment, his fingers sliding over the imperfect shape. With a soft sigh, as if accepting something within himself, he made a mold for it too, giving it the same careful attention.

  Once the metal melted, Nexha filled the molds and let them cool. The next day, he polished the small fish, removing the excess with care, and threaded a thin cord through it. When he handed the pendant to Jasper, the little triton’s eyes gleamed brighter than ever. His wide eyes reflected the copper’s shine with pure admiration, almost reverence.

  Jasper held the misshapen fish with both hands, as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. His chest swelled with emotion, and without realizing it, he pressed the pendant against himself, as if trying to absorb all the meaning behind the gift. A warmth spread through his heart, something between happiness and deep relief. He finally had something of his own—something that showed he was on the right path.