121 - to protect

  That tight hug lasted much longer than expected. Later that day, Nexha got ready and began making the molds with Jasper's help. The little one had sparkling eyes, thrilled to help even if not with the metal. The first molds were for extra hammers. With some villagers having learned to use fire with Nexha, they were now willing to learn how to forge as well.

  The first lesson was how to make the molds — something simple, but fundamental. We started slowly, everyone focused, molding and remolding until they understood the process. Then, we pressed a clay trident prototype to get its shape copied into the sand. Jasper, as always, watched everything with curious and restless eyes.

  To my surprise, he was the first to finish his mold. Despite being so small, he worked with such focus and dedication that he outshined everyone else. There was even clay on his face, but his expression was serious, almost determined.

  When he tried to lift the mold, which had perfect details, he turned as red as a tomato from the effort but couldn't move it — the large trident mold. My chest filled with pride, and my face burst into laughter watching his grumpy expression return after failing to lift it.

  I approached carefully to help him press the prototype into the sand mold — his tiny fingers trembled slightly, but he didn’t pull back. There was something almost magical in Jasper's silent determination.

  Even without enough strength, he tried, and tried, and tried with everything he had. His little arms trembled, eyes wide and almost tearing up in frustration — but he didn't stop.

  It was a silent struggle, as if something inside him screamed that he needed to prove he could do it, that he was capable. With each attempt, the mold slipped slightly, and he gritted his tiny teeth, angry at himself. But he wouldn’t give up.

  His determination burned like a flame refusing to go out, stubborn and bright like a gem, which even under immense pressure could still reveal beauty. Nexha helped slightly — something in his heart told him not to help too much.

  After helping Jasper, Nexha turned his attention to the other students, moving among them with patience. But Jasper stayed behind, standing still, his little eyes locked onto his creation with pure satisfaction. There was a different glow on his face, as if, for a moment, he felt big, as capable as the adults around him.

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  A single tear rolled down his cheek — but it wasn’t sadness, it was pride.

  When it touched the ground, it turned into a small glowing pearl. Jasper looked at it naturally, but it felt strange — it was his first tear. It was as if he had just witnessed one of the world’s secrets, even if it felt normal to everyone else.

  With a careful gesture, he picked up the little gem and, hearing a whisper that seemed to come from his own heart, he hid it inside the mold he had made. He looked around quickly, and before Nexha returned, he called a nearby adult with a timid wave and asked for help to seal the mold. His eyes held a mix of urgency and hope, as if that simple act held his whole heart.

  The class went on with Nexha buying a large quantity of copper. He was nearly in tears seeing 530MD leaving his account, but he pressed on and melted it all.

  But since his stone pot was small, Nexha had to melt the copper little by little, feeding the fire with almost ritualistic patience. Each melted scoop required attention, and time seemed to stretch with the heat and effort. Sweat ran down his face as he carefully poured the liquid metal, one by one, slowly filling the lined molds.

  Around him, the students held their breath as each mold was filled, eyes wide, feeling the symbolic weight of the moment. Each shape received the metal with a subtle hiss and a silent promise.

  It was more than forging tridents — it was crafting a greater protection for everything they loved in this place, like a shield for their paradise.

  Nexha felt a different warmth in his chest, a kind of pride in being able to teach an art that could take this world to new heights. When the last mold was filled, they were nearly ready, but like the kingslayer, these tridents needed to cool.

  With his guide attentive and gestures always precise, Nexha asked everyone to go to the water and requested the nearby mermaids to move away. One by one, the molds were carefully pushed into the cold water.

  The impact of the glowing metal against the water caused a burst of bubbles — large, vigorous ones that popped like muffled thunder, slowly disintegrating the fragile forms of sand and bamboo. The rising steam wrapped everything in a warm and mystical mist, as if they were witnessing an ancient ritual. Everyone in the village stopped and watched the spectacle unfold from afar.

  When the steam and bubbles faded, Nexha jumped into the water without thinking, just to see. The tridents were there, embedded in the sandy bottom, standing upright with their tips pointing to the sky.

  Still imperfect, but full of soul.

  They had fallen like warriors born of fire and now rested as sentinels of a new age. The silence among the students was filled with reverence. Some held their breath, others held back tears. Before them, there was more than weapons — there was proof they could create something powerful, something that could protect everyone.