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Chapter Five: Of Hearth and Stone

  The walk back to the forge was quiet. Neither seemed like they wanted to talk. James could hear the little songbirds singing in the trees and the rustle of leaves as squirrels and foxes ran in the underbrush. It still fascinated him how much his transformation had heightened all his senses. Long before it came into view, he could smell the baking bread from Miss Silvia's old cottage. James looked at the small stone building; a memory of the day he fell, of a cramped room and a warm blanket, sprang to mind, but he pushed it away. The new family had removed the creeping vines and expanded the little front garden. A woman stood at the doorway, her two young boys playing around her feet as she sweated. When her eyes met James', she grabbed her boys and pushed them behind her, brandishing her broom towards James.

  James could taste the bile in his mouth. He hated the way she saw him and the way the town saw him. His fingers tug into his palm. Why couldn't they just believe him?

  Max smiled and waved, elbowing James to do the same. "They won't stop thinkin' yer this monster if ya don't start acting normal."

  "I'm not normal." James waved at the woman, but she did not lower her broom. He felt the power inside him stir and took a slow, deliberate breath.

  Max rolled his eyes as they rounded the corner from the woman's sight and turned up the path to the forge. The hulking building of stone and plaster came into view. The soft hint of ash on the air, the warmth that never seemed to leave, sank into James. His shoulders eased, and his back muscles unclenched. Coming home always felt good. He didn't head for the main house, though. He headed to the forge, the large double doors thrown open. The stone floor was sturdy under his feet. He breathed it in all of it, feeling the moment. Slowly, he crouched by an old, worn chest, edges wrapped in bronze.

  Inside was all the training equipment for swords and smithing, but under it all rested an old sword. Gingerly, James lifted the lacquered sheath, covered in simple red and black designs. In a swift motion, he drew the blade. The worn band wrapped around the handle, which had felt so odd after Ser Edwin's death, was now familiar and comforting. The square hilt and slightly curved blade were perfectly balanced as he moved into his kata. Each form flowed with graceful movements that came to a clear stopping point before arching back along the same path. The plans, the worries, the world around him quieted. There was only James and the blade. Step, raise the blade overhead. Step, cut the blade down in front. Step, turn, bringing the blade upward along the same path.

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  With his eyes closed, James could feel each movement, the way his body reacted. The blade hit something hard, and confusion washed over him. There shouldn't be anything around. James tore his eyes open, trying to yank the sword free. She was standing there, the Sister. Her silvery hair was bound in a tight braid behind her back. Gone was the flowing dress, replaced with silvery steel armor over fine grey leather that gleamed in the forge's low light. She had snagged the sword pinched between two fingers and a look of disappointment on her ageless face.

  "What have you done?" With a flick of her wrist, she sent the sword flying from James' grasp to clang loudly against the stone floor. James stood tall, drawing himself to his full height to meet her gaze.

  "I could ask you the same thing. It's been months since we've talked." James felt the anger curling in his gut. The frustration of her ignoring him.

  "I am not answer to you, boy. Let's not forget in which way this relationship flows." James recoiled at the words as she grabbed him by the throat, lifting him into the air. "You may anchor me to the realm, but I hold all the power. You serve at my whims, not the other way around."

  The Sister slammed James into the ground, his skull smacking against the stone. James' vision blurred around the edges, and she placed an armored boot on his chest. He tried to wiggle out from under it, but it was as if the moon sat on his chest, slowly crushing him, making it hard to breathe, blood pounding in his ears.

  She can't kill me.

  He pushed with all his strength against the foot, holding him down, but it did not move. His arms trembled, and his lungs burned for new air. The Sister only watched, cold and distant, were her eyes of endless stars. Just as the edges of his vision started to go dark she release him. Scrambling to hands and knees, James sucked in deep gulps of air, causing his head to spin, and the world seemed to whirl around him— and she laughed, a sharp, bitter tone to it.

  "It hurts me to teach you these lessons, but you must learn your place in this world, my little one." She knelt beside him, one hand on his back. Her tone is that of a mother speaking to a headstrong child. James had heard it before, from his own mother, from Miss Silvia, but where they had been warm. The Sister was cold. "I do care for you, James. Truly, I do, but I need you here. Safe."

  "In a town that can't look at me without seeing the storm that took so many of their friends and families. That blames me for the vanishings and deaths. Safe, we both know that's a lie." James, shakingly, got to his feet, meeting the Sister's stare, a knowing smirk growing across her face. James spat at her feet. He could see Max frozen in the doorway, a sandwich frozen halfway to his mouth, the sight nearly breaking James' line of thought. "I will do what is right."

  "You don't know the dangers that wait out there in the dark, James. The one waiting for you to leave the protections this town and this forge allot you. The little spells your witch has cast, the magic deeper, older than me, and your ties to this place that wraps you safely. Isn't that right, little watcher?" She turned to face Max, who took a bite of his sandwich and visibly swallowed, then nodded.

  "Miss Silvia speaks of da old magics here, ones of hearth and stone, bonds of family dat tie us to the ones we care about most." The gemstone eye flared with the words, and Max gave a half-bow, a smile tugging at his lips. James gaped at the brash tone. "Ma'am."

  "You may not like what you find when you stray from the path, my boy," and with a shake of the head and a snap of her fingers, the Sister was gone.

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