Shared Flame
A woman hovered in the air, perfectly still above the wooden floor below. Completely upside down, her hair fell in a long stream, her snowy-white dress desperately trying to follow after. Yet, it remained in place, impossibly kept up by unseen forces. Her two glowing eyes remained narrowed, her whole face creased in some irritable thought.
“Hmm.”
Velandra stroked her chin, no closer to anything satisfying. The blood rushing to her head wasn’t all that inspirational, either. She made a quick, circular motion with her hands, her whole body rotating in the air. From upside-down to laying on her side, she reclined with an enviable ease.
“Hmm …”
With another flourish of her hands, she flipped over to her other side. No, this is not captivating either, she thought, sighing drearily. Her hand reached down, idly picking at the painting on her dress. An artwork of waves crashing upon a shore, the eruption turning into vividly blue flowers. The fabric’s texture felt nice, at least.
Velandra stared out through the pavilion’s open balcony, her glowing gaze squinted. Carefully laid out bushes, flowers, and miniature trees awaited, both mundane and beautifully exotic. Each little group evocative of one aesthetic or another, the beauty of nature as shaped by a woman’s hand. A certain harmony could be found, the interplay of different parts and how they came together. Not all different from magic, in a sense.
Yet even that did little to inspire, or even comfort, her.
What insufferable boredom, she thought, rolling over onto her back. Velandra reached up to claw at her eyes, but remembering the yellow makeup there, paused. Instead, she pinched and pulled at her clean cheeks, utterly aimless. “Ughhh …”
I need to do something.
Lest she spend all afternoon writhing in the air, Velandra moved herself onto the nearby cushions. Setting down cross-legged, she made slow, absentminded motions with a hand. On the big table in front of her, a porcelain teapot and a teacup lifted up. With her magic, they went about pouring and serving themselves to her. Velandra sipped the aromatic tea, going through the motions of proper drinking. Something more reassuring, a comfort of habit and repetition that tried filling in the ennui suffusing her bones.
But what to do? Velandra mused, cradling the tea cup in her palm, her finger tapping its edge thoughtfully. Responsibilities always awaited, of course; the tedium of governance proved endless. A half-formed inclination toward something magical lingered, but to what end she wasn’t certain.
Spellcraft, perhaps … No, too much thought required. Reading? There are new editions of Pochu's Bakery but that would not be productive. She lifted a hand, curling her fingers. A fruit from one of the garden’s trees wiggled, then popped off, flying toward her. With a gentle pap it landed right in her palm: a simple, spindly thing of dark yellow flesh with a red spiral cord running from stem-to-bottom.
She traced her finger along the spiral cord of the golden jotuk. A tiny, precise cut of water magic did the rest, slicing apart the white fibers beneath the skin. Crafting, perhaps? Velandra mused, her hands working on their own. They knew well enough where to cut and how. Mm, that is something. It does not need to be grand either. What could I make?
Flicking her wrist in a quick snap, the fruit unfurled like a paper lantern. Its delicious orange flesh hung from the spiral cord, a thin layer of flesh keeping the juices locked in. Jotuk weren’t complicated to prepare but if an idiot cut the cord, the sweetness would spoil in seconds.
The busy work done, Velandra cut off a section with another swipe of water magic, then took a bite. Chewy, fibrous sweetness, along with a tongue-thrumming buzz of mana greeted her. Little by little she ate the jotuk, leaving nothing but a husk of a cord left. All sorts of ideas mulled over in her mind, but they lacked any certain appeal. Still no closer to an answer, Velandra frowned.
A distortion in the air beside her wobbled into existence, an unstable singularity inching into existence. Without so much a look, she flicked the remains into the sphere, where they annihilated from existence in complete silence. The sphere itself, too, vanished afterward. Finishing the last of her tea, she stood up.
If nothing else, I will figure out something when I get there.
Taking a step once more into the air, she headed from the pavilion. The servant that waited on her followed after, arms folded together and head bowed. Given where her personal gardens were, Velandra spent some time simply heading through the inner palace itself. The destination she had in mind sat at the far end, in a more isolated and safe area. Something else, however, caught her ear on the way.
Standing at an intersection between two paths, Velandra frowned and looked around. What is that sound? Hissing? She looked up superstitiously. The vaulting roof’s support beams were as empty as they should’ve been. No mussuba children or flying snakes up there, at least, she thought. Heavy footsteps broke the air, and a much more welcome sound followed after.
“Oh, what are you doing here?”
Velandra looked over, her reflexive retort flubbing apart on her tongue. Venyra herself awaited, walking through the doorway to a simpler area used for training. The anaxial, though, wore only voluminous pants and a plain cloth binding across her chest. Richly warm light glowed underneath her skin, magma veins plainly visible.
The hissing sound, it turned out, came from the cloth towel slung around her neck. Soaked in water, it sizzled against her scaly-skin, a mist of steam rising up. For one who didn’t sweat, Venyra seemed drenched. The steam practically turned her into a walking sauna.
“Uh …” Velandra’s mouth made a stupid noise, her mind falling off a cliff at the captivating sight in front of her.
Venyra smiled, half-knowing and bemused. “Like what you see?”
It took physical effort for Velandra to even pretend to have a decent look. Her traitorous face did like blushing up on its own, though. “Yes, well. Never mind that, what are you doing here?”
“Exercising.”
Of course, Velandra almost said entirely on reflex. “I—see. Pardon the interruption, then. I was heading to the Star Forge.”
Venyra smiled tightly, her own attempts at an ‘easy’ facial expression. “It’s fine, just cooling down. What are you going to do there?”
“Try my hand at crafting something again,” Velandra answered, perhaps a bit too dryly.
“You?” Venyra’s brows knitted together in obvious disbelief.
“I will have you know crafting is a fine art any mage worth their name can do.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“And yet your eyes are laughing at me still.”
“No reason.”
Velandra pursed her lips. “Well, continue cooling off.”
Lest she be ensnared, Velandra stiffly continued on to her destination. Venyra, if left unchecked, would find some way to wrap her up in that magnetic charm. It really did work quite insidiously, she’d be a half-hour deep into a conversation without even realizing it. The worst part was Venyra usually kept a tight choice for words, and it still worked so easily!
Not that I mind but I am trying to be fruitful with my work. A troubled smile found its way to the sovereign’s face. She snuck a peek from the corner of her eye, seeing Venyra walk alongside her with an easy-going look. Velandra’s brow tweaked on its own, the barest showing of indignation. I am on to you.
Behind them, another servant hurriedly joined in, falling in with Velandra’s attendant. A bundle of clothes sat in her arms, which Venyra had worn before exercising. The servant had sparkly eyes, that of someone meeting a beloved idol. It only intensified when she saw Velandra and Venyra walking together through the palace.
Oh, she’s here too, Velandra realized, feeling a pair of eyes boring into her back. Venyra may have been bad enough on her own, but Jian, her personal servant, always enabled her. The proverbial wood to the literal fire, and always igniting something. She felt herself starting to sweat, and not because of the walking sauna beside her. I just want to craft something. Are the Heavens conspiring against me today?
“What are you going to make?” Venyra asked, her conversational tone disguising that palpably smug air she exuded.
Yes, a very arduous trial, Velandra thought dryly. “I am uncertain. Something simple for practice.”
“Like a comb?”
“Did you break another one again?”
“I keep telling you those tiny ones don’t work.”
“You are supposed to start with the big toothed ones, then the small ones.”
“Who needs four combs to do their hair?”
“You, evidently,” Velandra remarked, much to Venyra’s scoff. “Your hair is as strong as steel. You must care for it correctly, because the combs will break otherwise.”
“So make me an unbreakable comb then.”
“For what, tearing out your hair? Do you want a bald spot?”
Venyra relented first, superstitiously grabbing her head. “N-no, but …”
“I told you how to do it so the tangles would come undone.”
“It takes too long.”
“Because you haven’t practiced it!” Velandra’s brow tweaked angrily. She reached over and pinched Venyra’s cheek, pulling the bashful anaxial closer. “A mountain doesn’t grow out of a rock! Do it properly!”
“But it’s better when you do it,” Venyra whined, sounding so uncharacteristic it actually caught Velandra off guard.
“You—tch.” Velandra looked away, pursing her lips as a warmer blush found its way to her cheeks.
She completely missed the sneaky thumbs up Jian and Venyra shared.
It seems Torao finally finished the foundations, Velandra surmised, taking a long look ahead. A land bridge awaited, lined with meticulously cut bricks. A deep gorge awaited underneath it, a staunch physical barrier for the Star Forge’s perimeter. She still didn’t like how suddenly the surrounding palace grounds changed around it. Although some newer gardens had been laid down on the ‘outside’, they were works in progress. Until all the plans grew in, statues were laid down, and the artists decorated everything else, it looked like a mess. Not to mention the actual forge itself. Velandra squinted at the sight of such large and imposing brick-and-iron architecture. “I’m surprised you let them build that,” Venyra commented. “… Oh? Why?” “It doesn’t seem what you’d like.” “If I still don’t when it blows up again, it can always go back.” “Heh.” They walked across the land bridge, heading toward the multi-story monstrosity of a building. Traditional architecture met foreign design thinking, a strange joining that produced something garish. Hard iron frames met sturdy, tight brickwork, themselves wrapped in reinforcing rods. Smooth sweeping, decorative wooden roofs turned into rounded corners, all kinds of pipes bolted onto them. Unlike those in Lophern she’d seen, the architects of the Heavenly Palace tried to keep it all orderly. Bravely adorning beautiful styles and colorful arrangements so at least it wasn’t a mess of a building. That sort of care broke down when so much extra was added on, though. At the other end of the land bridge, a large, double-doored iron gate awaited. An attendant in front of it perked up, doing a visible double-take before hurriedly standing up. Rather than a guard, they wore thick, heavy padded cloth and a protective coat suitable for smithing. “This one respectfully greets the heavenly sovereign!” she said, bowing her head immediately when Velandra arrived. “So I receive. Is Mistress Torao occupied?” “I believe so,” the attendant answered. “I am certain she will make time for the heavenly sovereign.” “It is not needed. I require a simple forge room to use.” “Of course! Please, follow this one.” The attendant turned and shoved open the heavy, groaning gate. They all headed on through. The brick floor turned into metal plates, along which ran gutters covered by X-shaped grates. Pipes and mana channels sat underneath, rivers of deep, purple-colored mana pumping through, warmly alive with a dim glow. Shouts and yelling filled the air, punctuated by the slamming of hammers, clanging metals, and the noise of all sorts of mechanical devices. Storage crates, simple cranes to move goods, and conveyor belts pushing along heaps of raw ores filled the area. The ‘outer ring’ of the Star Forge, and where they walked through, acted as its primary processing grounds. Women and men moved along, pushing hovering carts full of goods: incomplete parts, be they simple fixtures like nails, mechanical components, personal wares, and no end to weapons or armors. Their black attires were stained deep in soot and grime, facial masks laced with wind-aspected crysium that kept their air breathable and clean. Velandra waved her hand, creating a near-invisible air bubble to keep the hot, cast-off furnace filth from touching her or Venyra. Everyone who crossed her path hurriedly bowed, waiting respectfully until she’d moved on by. “This is far more than I expected,” Venyra said, looking around with unabashed interest. “Where do you even get all this ore from?” “Shopping whenever we visit the surface. If I recall, our last batch was on hold because this forge blew up.” “Oh, I thought we mined out one of those floating islands or something.” “Do those even have metals on them?” Velandra wondered aloud. “I dunno. Maybe?” It’d mean no end of trouble with harpies and wyverns, so even if there was, she couldn’t see bothering with it. They reached the smaller, yet no less sturdy doors of a large, multi-story building. The attendant hurriedly opened them, letting everyone pass before hustling to the front again. Once inside, the air—still rather hot—became instantly cleaner. Hardy glass lamps sat in the curved, spacious ceiling of the hallway, their brightness strong enough to rival daylight. Rows of mana channels in the floor ran alongside the walkway, alive and thrumming from how much mana coursed through. Crysium-glass covers kept them both safe and delightfully interesting, for the mana underneath sparkled as it touched the glass. Fewer workers crossed their path, much more the forge smiths themselves than the support staff. They, too, respectfully bowed and made way for the sovereign before hurrying onto their own business. The side wall beside them began changing , turning into a long, reinforced window. Velandra gave it a quick glance, but Venyra’s curious hum really caught her attention. “Oh, vertical forging. That—hm, how long has it been?” “What are you muttering about?” Velandra asked, stopping over by Venyra and her curious looking. While the outside of the Star Forge was only a few stories high, it stretched deeper into the ground instead. From where she stood, the work area yawned like a small canyon. Floor after floor the different layers stacked on top of each other, strikingly similar to a bieneren hive. Cranes, pulleys, massive buckets full of molten metal, and more wound through the air, guided on metal rails and cables. The actual pieces of work themselves moved through the different layers on elevators. “It’s different but I used to work somewhere like this,” Venyra remarked, waving her hand at the scene. “You did?” Velandra asked, the first she’d ever heard of it. “Mm. Yeah.” That tone she did recognize well enough: Venyra’s way of telling she was deeply uncomfortable. Velandra held out a hand, and catching Venyra’s attention, swept in a motion to be followed. They silently made their way from the window, and the sovereign mindfully moved more alongside her lover rather than in front. Following the attendant, they reached a spiral staircase. Glass on either side framed it, one side toward the forge working areas, the other to an enormous, churning black void. Purple, gaseous tendrils chased the edges of its horizon, casting off twisting threads of luminous gossamer. Metal rings above and below the singularity awaited, prongs with fiber-catching teeth rotating endlessly around it. They spilled down the prongs, pooling into rivers of pure mana that flowed into awaiting channels. Venyra seemed far more interested in it than anything else on their walk up the stairs. She poked Velandra in the side, pointing at the massive singularity sphere silently. “You have one at home,” Velandra remarked. “Tch,” Venyra clicked her tongue, pursing her lips. Soon enough they’d arrived at a quieter, more out of the way area on the next floor. The attendant brought them to an iron door, quaint in its featureless existence. Sliding it open, she stood beside it, head bowed as Velandra and Venyra entered inside. “What else might the heavenly sovereign require?” the attendant asked. “A selection of intermediate metals. Five will do.” “I shall retrieve them immediately,” she said. “Good.” A rather neat arrangement awaited Velandra: one wall having all the mundane tools, and the other having all the magical ones. Two workbenches stood as the centerpieces, everything imaginable within reach. Neatly kept shelves and drawers sat with all sorts of useful items in place, and even labeled with their names. It would be farther ahead, toward the ‘back’ of the work area, the actual forge itself awaited. A widely circular pit with a black stone wall sat beneath a crysium-glass ceiling, glowing warmly from the fire at its heart. Velandra, stepping over to the edge, peeked inside. An ever-burning chunk of red star rock awaited, content at the pit’s deep center. The body of its flames were green, but the ends transformed into golden light, casting off shiny, glittering embers. Quite peculiar looking to her eye, at least. Venyra, too, peeked over with her. “Did you ever figure out what this was?” “Only that it, like all meteors, fell from the Heavens. Such a divine flame is beyond even my understanding, despite my efforts.” Velandra gave it a cool gaze. “But it’s happy enough to stay here and work for me, so I will not complain.” “Wait, that thing’s alive?” Venyra asked incredulously. “Being alive or dead is more of a suggestion than a rule where divinity is concerned,” Velandra remarked and looked over to the servants. “Make yourselves at ease, we will be here for a while longer.” They bowed, and retreated to a corner by the door where a table and some chairs waited. “So what are you going to make?” Venyra asked, sliding around the sides of the forge. “Your insidious idea of a comb has blotted out every other choice I could think of.” “Oh.” Venyra scrunched her nose. “Sorry.” And she takes offense where there is none, Velandra thought, almost letting out a sigh. “Don’t be, it is not a bad idea. I was already undecided in the first place.” “Mm. Where’s the vent?” Venyra asked, inspecting upward. Over the central forge, a large cylindrical tube acted as a venting apparatus through the glass ceiling. The evident problem was no handles or anything to actually open it could be found. “It’s—where is it?” Velandra found herself asking as well, stepping around the forge. The two of them kind of shuffled along together, looking for how the stupid thing was supposed to work. “Do you open it with magic?” Venyra asked. Velandra squinted and flicked her hand quickly, but the large cover within the tube hardly budged from the magical force. “No, it seems rather stuck.” “Erm, great sovereign?” They both looked over at servant Jian. Standing next to the wall, her hand laid on some kind of wheel handle. “It is a cranked chute.” They looked up as Jian pushed the wheel and the cover creaked open, stopping at a perfect vertical alignment. Venyra made some sort of nasally laugh at the back of her throat, and Velandra pursed her lips. “Really …” she muttered under her breath before saying louder, “Yes, so I see.” Jian bowed and shuffled off back to the corner, her face perfect in its professional neutrality. Venyra snorted a laugh, hiding it behind a hand when Velandra shot a look at her. A few minutes later, the doors opened, and the attendant from earlier pushed in a heavy-looking cart. Velandra headed over, Venyra in tow behind. Across the top of the cart laid twelve large pillows, upon them each a single, thick ingot of pure metal. Copper, iron, steel, sun-gold, silverdyne, and more—I asked for intermediate, Velandra thought, trying not to sigh. I ask for a cup of tea, I get a full course meal. It shouldn’t annoy her, but it ever made her feel like people couldn’t trust her exact words. “So what’re you starting with?” Venyra asked, rubbing her finger on an iron ingot like she’d never touched one before. “You have already made a selection, it seems.” “It feels funny.” “It is metal, how is it funny?” Venyra gave a half-hearted shrug. Velandra eyed her for a moment before giving it a curious feel as well. While indeed being iron, the surface of it was—rough, yet smooth. A slight thrum buzzed beneath her finger, the telltale sign of mana lingering. Minute and hardly worthy of being called an enchantment, but there all the same. Her eyebrow cocked upward while a knowing glint shone in Venyra’s eyes. “See?” “It feels like iron, yes.” Velandra rubbed her fingers together. She then made a gentle picking up motion, purple magic glowing around the ingot as it lifted in the air. Mindfully keeping it out of reach, she headed to the awaiting forge. “Then I will start with this one.” “Mm.” They both stood by the forge’s edge while Velandra magically threw the iron ingot in. It stopped in the air at the upper reaches of the divine flame, the green-and-gold fire eagerly blooming over it. “We will start with something simple. Do not be too greedy,” she commanded, though whether the flame cared or not was another matter. While the iron went about heating up, she made a circular motion with her index finger. The air within the forge began moving, silent as it swirled in a circular motion. The scattering embers flew along with it, rising up and out of the open vent above. Venyra stuck her hand into the vortex, an audible buffet of wind flapping against her hand as she surfed along. “Stop that,” Velandra said. “But it’s fun.” “It is a forge—“ Velandra’s consternation turned into her rubbing her forehead when Venyra stuck her head in next. Her crimson hair immediately started whipping in one direction, trying to follow the upward air current. “What?” Venyra asked loudly, undoubtedly deafened by the blowing wind. Velandra’s arm moved on its own, grabbing her by the collar and yanking her out of the forge. She staggered backward, her hair wildly puffed up and frizzy as it started settling down again. “I am making a comb to fix your hair, not let you tangle it more!” Velandra groused, yanking Venyra closer. In lieu of anything better, she tried fixing that fluffy crimson mess into something less ridiculous looking. Sadly, while snarls were usually rare, any that did appear needed a magic touch to unwind them. Venyra grunted with every swiping pass of her fingers, head jerking to one side or the other as Velandra worked. Tch. Strong as steel and softer than silk, she thought, pursing her lips. “Yeah, but you’ll fix it,” Venyra remarked. Velandra sucked in a breath as she slowly moved her hands down, clumps of hair wound between her fingers. She cupped Venyra’s scaled cheeks, staring down at her mouthy fushena with a calmly regal face. “Yes, of course I will,” she said, rubbing her thumbs on that roughly-soft skin. “Wait—“ Velandra pressed her hands in, squeezing Venyra’s whole face into a scrunched up mess. “But you will learn to take care of yourself better, won’t you?” “Bllbhfbhfbh—“ answered Venyra, sputtering nonsense. “Oh, the iron is burning.” Velandra let go and Venyra’s whole face sprang back into her proper look. The sovereign eyed the glowing ingot as it melted. Magical forces kept it from dripping into the divine flame, and so the waiting period was over. Brushing past Venyra, Velandra moved before the cauldron wall of the furnace. “Why’s the metal funny looking?” “How do you mean?” Velandra asked, glancing at Venyra squeezing in beside her. “The whole thing is melting rather than just one side.” “Fire from the Heavens heats the essence of things. It is far faster and more potent than a mundane flame.” “Huh.” Since Venyra seemed satisfied, Velandra focused back on her work. Holding her hands out just before the wind vortex, she flexed her awesome magic, finding a better, ‘imaginary’ grip on the metal. A dark purple aura gathered around the increasingly molten and luminous metal, dulling its blindingly bright light into something easier on the eyes. She squeezed her fingers, and the aura pressed in, deforming the iron ever so gently. Mm, it feels malleable enough. All kinds of magics had tricks to manipulate things. Hers, however, sufficed with pure simplicity: sheer power of will. There wasn’t a worry of overheating the metal, cooling it, or introducing unwanted impurities. Pulling her hands apart, she stretched the molten iron slowly into a long, sinuous strand that almost resembled noodles. Looping it around back onto itself, Velandra folded the strand into itself until a homogenous molten sphere formed. Everything looked and felt right, no undue cold pockets of metal left. “Does that count as water magic?” Venyra asked. “No, but the idea is similar.” “Oh. So why are you doing it this way instead of with one of those stupid pots?” Stupid pot—Velandra inhaled and closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh. “I can feel, simply feel, generations of indignation from that remark.” “What? That’s what it is.” “The element furnace is a complex device used by fools with too much mana on their hands, yes,” Velandra said, dryly looking at Venyra. “I avoid using it.” “How come?” “That is a week’s worth of tea and table time alone.” Velandra tightened her hands and pulled them in, compressing the molten metal still floating in the furnace. Then, with the slightest tremble from resistance, pulled her hands apart. The metal deformed, the sphere turning into a cage of metal cords connecting one corner to another. The further it stretched, the greater the difficulty in keeping it cohesive. In another way, it looked like a spider web in a jar. “But, there is a simple way to explain it. Look at the metal.” “Alright.” “Metal is metal. Although I shape it with my will, it will always be metal.” Velandra pulled her hands in, reforming the molten sphere. A quick flex and it turned into a cube. “Despite using magic as my tool, the process is itself still fundamentally mundane.” “Sure. I can punch the iron myself too.” “The—what?” Velandra did a double take, looking over incredulously. “Punch the iron?” “… Yeah? How do you think dragons’ craft?” “By punching iron??” Venyra lightly snorted, her dark face warming up with an inner flame. She beckoned with a hand. “Give it to me, I’ll show you.” “It is molten metal, Venyra.” “Yeah, it isn’t that warm.” “I am not—“ Velandra scowled and turned halfway. One hand kept the molten metal up in the air while she pointed firmly at Venyra. “I am not having you hurt yourself for no reason.” Inscrutable though Venyra could be sometimes, Velandra boldly believed she understood her expressions. Still, right then a sort of look crossed her eyes that was hard to grasp ahold of. They stared at each other for a long moment, glowing purple against fiery gold evenly matched. “I’ll be fine,” Venyra said firmly. A rising glow of fire in her cheeks gave a silent, yet heated demeanor to her words. Not anger, nor embarrassment, not even confrontation necessarily. It generally meant, as far as Velandra knew, adding gusto to show one’s feelings. The sovereign wanted to sigh, but sufficed for clicking her tongue. She curled her hands, bringing the molten iron closer. “How will you grab it anyway?” “Mm.” Venyra eyed the floating metal sitting at the edge of the furnace’s cauldron. “Make it into a flat sheet and then wait a minute.” The metal morphed seamlessly underneath Velandra’s magic. Away from the divine flame, and with a helpful amount of air constantly lifting the heat out, its outside darkened noticeably quickly. Venyra clapped her hands together, rubbing her palms as fiery lines warmed to life in her arms. Tendrils of magma crept through her dark skin all the way to her fingers, a dimly red glow arising. Squaring herself up, she cracked her knuckles, a flash of light under her skin along with every audible pop. “Right, this again,” Venyra muttered while she reached out. Velandra watched, her sharp gaze turning to disbelief as Venyra grabbed both sides of the semi-solid iron. The dragon anaxial pushed then, arms flexing with power as she squeezed the iron section-by-section. Its air-kissed metallic ‘skin’ sloughed off with each groaning pinch, a rod-like shape taking form in Venyra’s hands. She rolled it between her palms, smoothing it out with an ease a noodle chef would envy. Tiny sparks shot out between her palms from the friction force. Giving the smooth rod a few taps against the edge of the furnace’s cauldron, she eyed it and snorted. “Well, that’s as good as a five second touch can do. See?” she said, looking over. “I live to be surprised,” Velandra remarked, her dry tone doing well to cover her disbelief. “How did you learn to do this?” “Mm. Back in Votyoger, they forced me to.” Venyra grasped both ends of the iron rod, bending it into a crude circle instead. A motion so simple and smooth it undersold the flex of muscles and strength she actually used. “Kept me busy when there wasn’t anything else.” “I—see.” “I don’t know how to make this into a comb,” Venyra said, looking down at the increasingly gnarled mess of iron she was folding. “There’s too much.” “For one, I would not use iron because it will rust. This is the practice material.” “Oh.” Motioning with her hand, Velandra sent the iron mess back into the furnace to melt again. Venyra, meanwhile, clapped her hands clean again, tiny sparks shooting off with each strike until they stopped. “It’s not like they don’t use tools,” she said, eying her palms for any residue. “They never let me use them. All the best stuff is handmade anyway.” Venyra scowled and started wiping her hands on her pants. “This stuff’s always sticky!” “Quit fussing, let me see,” Velandra demanded lightly, leaning over. Venyra almost said something, but just offered her hands up instead. The sovereign pinched her fingers together, and as they opened slowly, two spheres of pure water wobbled into existence. “Put your hands inside.” Venyra’s brows crept upward, but she nonetheless did. A slight hissing sound followed, the spheres warbling as hot and cold collided. Whether from holding glowing hot iron or Venyra’s own natural temperature, Velandra couldn’t tell at all. She nonetheless dared to reach in, daintily taking hold of Venyra’s hands in hers. Warm, certainly; but not unbearably or dangerously hot at all. Venyra hummed, looking at her questioningly. Velandra smiled politely, although her eyes shone with mischievousness. “Watch.” The water around their hands started churning, spinning and washing the grime that’d gathered. Venyra’s face twisted into something of surprise and laughter, her whole body suddenly tensing up. “T-this tickles,” she sputtered out, sparks of flames spitting out with every breath. “Does it?” Velandra wondered aloud. It simply felt like moving water to her; that and Venyra’s comfortably rough-scaled, yet fleshy-soft hands. Holding them wasn’t strictly necessary but such a convenient excuse couldn’t be passed up. Sadly, it only took a few more moments for everything to clean up nicely, and she lifted their hands out of the water. “Done.” Venyra inspected her clean palms with wide eyes while Velandra sent the dirty water off into oblivion. “It really did get all of it. Huh.” “Of course.” Velandra looked over toward the cart and its selection of metal ingots. She raised her hand and so raised all of them into the air to choose from. Hmm: you, you, and you. Three ingots out of the lot flew through the air, one a dark green with white fractures, one of solid gold, and one bright copper-red. In one more motion, she compacted the molten iron back into an ingot-like shape, then moved it off to the side to cool down. The other three sailed into the divine flame, which eagerly flared up at their arrival. “Let’s begin the real effort now.” “I’m surprised you know metals at all,” Venyra remarked, still kind of half-captivated by her very clean hands. “Are those not supposed to be my words?” “Forges are … mm, one of a few places that are safe for me.” Venyra blew a puff of air out of the side of her mouth, sparks going along with it. “You know.” “I can imagine why,” Velandra said with an obviousness to her words. “You never mentioned it, though.” “Don’t like them.” Venyra frowned. “Usually. It’s fun with you.” “Hm! Good,” Velandra declared, straightening her back a little. Always sweet when I’m not expecting it, tch. “You didn’t answer me.” “About what?” “Using the stupid pot method.” “Oh. That.” Velandra lightly pinched her nose, all sorts of choice words coming to mind. “It is … complicated,” she said, her same hand gesturing in a circle. “Elemental forging is, like magic, defined entirely by the person practicing it. A handful of people each trying to make, say, a hammer, would produce ‘a hammer’ but in different ways.” “Then what’s the point?” Venyra asked, seeming skeptical. “A gifted forger can create truly powerful works. Cultivators, in particular, greatly need it because they are so selfish in what they do.” Velandra shook her head, a scornful look appearing. “Not to mention the costs, in either materials or mana. Only such unreasonable people would pursue it in the first place.” “You’re all powerful, so why avoid it?” Venyra asked, the barest taste of something like teasing to her tone. Velandra shot a pointed look from the corner of her eye at the anaxial. “It narrows the mind,” she said before rubbing her temple for a moment. “No, even that is not quite it. Ah. Hmm. Do you remember elemental study?” “Sure, how everything is made up of elemental parts?” “The very same. Let us say you want to make a spear. First, gather the materials the spear is to be made out of, then throw them into the elemental furnace. They will break down into their respective elements. Through one's mana and magic, they then shape these raw elements into the ‘spear’.” “But like that hammer idea, how each spear comes out will be different for each person?” Venyra clarified, stroking her chin. “Precisely. Ideas like tempering, sharpening, enchanting—none of these are used in elemental forging. The quality of the spear entirely depends on the forger’s understanding, ability, and comprehension. It is so intrinsic to their own mind it cannot simply be explained, it must be conveyed through will.” “Oh, like those Law books?” “Them and more. It is a very—cheap way of creating something. It ignores fundamentals, and proper ways of transforming a work. The best method I, let alone others, have come to is this—“ Velandra gestured to the melting metals in the furnace. “Magic to bring change but with due respect toward how they are handled. It is challenging and informative, without being limited or too easy to use.” Venyra scratched the back of her head, fluffing her hair up. “It can’t be that great if I didn’t hear about it. The stupid pots method, not what—“ “Yes, I know,” Velandra answered airily, seeing Venyra worry about misspeaking. “It is great, in its own way. There is undoubtedly some mistress out there who can make works I cannot even describe. But, our history is full of those that relied upon such things, only to fall into ruin.” “How come?” “The craftswomen died out, and their inheritors weren’t as capable. The secrets of their mistresses went to the grave.” “Ah.” “It does not stop people from chasing after one forgotten artifact or another. I think those in Aerthen called it ‘adventuring’ or some nonsense.” The metals quietly reached a molten state during their conversation. Velandra eyed them for a moment before glancing down at Venyra beside her. “Perhaps the fierce woman would like to try some magic of her own?” she asked. A touch of formal words made Venyra look up at her like she was crazy. “You want me to use my fire?” “Hm! No. Consider my curiosity rather unbound. Do you want to try?” “… Might as well?” Venyra offered, clearly confused. Perhaps being vague wasn’t helping, but Velandra brushed that concern aside. For her idea to work, however, she needed to set down on the ground properly. It wasn’t much of a difference, maybe only a few inches, but from air walking to ground walking ever did feel different. She moved herself behind Venyra proper, pressing herself against her fushena’s backside. Their height differences stood out quite starkly then, Velandra quite easily capable of resting her chin atop Venyra’s head without issue. “Now,” she said with a tinge of amusement, “hold your hands out, like welcoming someone.” Venyra, whose whole aura turned into something flustered, nonetheless did so. Lifting her hands up, Velandra slid them along Venyra’s arms until both their hands lined up. It wasn’t exactly even, as Velandra’s were simply a touch larger and longer. Venyra shifted against her in a way only someone caught in something exciting would do. “Shush you,” Velandra said, her tone unbearably teasing. “You’re the one touching me,” Venyra bit back hotly. “Yes, yes.” Velandra rolled her eyes; even if it was fun, she had an actual purpose. The hand holding was just a nice side benefit. “Draw upon your mana and bring it into your hands.” Venyra grumbled in her throat, a rumbly sort of unintelligible noise. The churning cauldron of fire within her flared. At such a close distance, her warmth radiated into the body and soul itself, a comfortable heat. Familiar, too, to Velandra. The magma veins in Venyra’s exposed forearms and hands warmed awake, rivers of hot glowing orange. They were fun enough to trace, but right then wasn’t the time for it. “The idea is simple,” the sovereign said. “Feel my mana through your hands. Bring it close, like touching a cloud.” “Uhhh-huh. Sure.” Squeezing Venyra’s hands, Velandra smiled tight and exasperatedly. “And here you normally enjoy being so close.” “Yeah. Then you made me start floating.” “You had fun.” “Before or after I grappled you?” Venyra jolted and looked down at her hands. “Oh, that feels weird.” “It is not that weird,” Velandra said, despite the flowing mana definitely feeling a bit strange. The temple of the body ever has its own rules. Even ours will be fussy about it a little bit. As Velandra’s purple aura glowed along her hands, Venyra’s fiery glow flared up. As the two forces slowly collided together, a mixture arose—the soft purple turned wilder and fire-like, streaks of red interjecting its monotonous hum. Since the two of them were naturally close at heart, there wasn’t a great worry about rejection. Cooperation was the heart of such magic, no matter who tried it. “Red and purple do look good together,” Venyra remarked, sounding so normal that Velandra almost didn’t register it. “Ah—yes. Now, before I forget myself again,” Velandra said, muttering the last few words before speaking up again. “Think about grabbing the metals there. Imagine doing it with your hands, and then feel it.” “Okay?” Venyra said, sounding perplexed still. She nonetheless lifted her hands, Velandra’s following along in perfect sync. “I’m thinking about grabbing something but—“ she clenched her hands and the coppery-red metal deformed, squished like a ball in a fist. “Oh. That’s weird.” “Now you see,” Velandra said, smug and laughing all at once. “Your handiwork with metal and my magic. I am curious to see what we could make using that.” “Yeah. Alright.” Venyra perked up, an ease of excitement to her Velandra noticed immediately. Especially how Venyra standing up a bit straighter bumped right in her chin. “Sorry.” “Do not worry about it.” “Can I—uh, use your magic?” Venyra asked, testing every syllable she spoke with. “Use our magic? My magic … magic thing …” “Consider yourself greatly blessed indeed, Venyra,” Velandra said, a haughtiness undermined by a pleasant tone. “This heavenly sovereign permits you to use her power.” A nosy, spark-filled snort escaped Venyra, the dragon anaxial leaning her head back into Velandra’s neck. “This lowly one is so humbled,” she muttered out thickly. “No, no. Not lowly. A title more expansive, vast, world shaking … Veltron-shattering Mighty One?” Velandra asked, making Venyra snort again. “Fires-Breaking Dragonkiller? Unyielding Titanic—“ “—it’s so stupid!” Venyra squeezed out before laughing and shaking in Velandra’s arms. Their attempt at shared magic turned into the sovereign hugging her giggling and squirming lover. “No! Don’t call me that!” “Darkest Skies And Firelight? Gleaming Scales and Starry Beauty?” Velandra couldn’t help her own smile at how much Venyra snort-laughed and shook in some playful rejection of every suggestion. She is a tough one to bring out but when I can, ah, well … It wouldn’t be too much to indulge, would it? She squeezed Venyra to her heartily, holding onto the mirthful anaxial until the giggles finally eased. “Well. Ah. This mighty one is so grateful.” “Better,” Velandra said simply, her smirk unseen by anyone else. “If you need a more fitting title, I can always provide.” “My father might rise from his grave at that.” “Oh?” “He was humble. For a dragon.” “If he does, I will simply have to take you higher into the Heavens.” “You—I’m not standing here to be played with, you know.” How terribly hot Venyra grew, her veins glowing brighter as a real and terrible fire stirred to life. Velandra, although sorely tempted to tease her some more, knew when to give ground. “Then let us mix these metals together,” she said, her smirk impossibly difficult to keep under control. “I do not remember the alloy’s name but it was a sturdy one.” Once their minds actually went to the task at hand, it carried on remarkably quickly. Venyra, guiding Velandra’s nebulous magic in a silent union of their mana, drew and shaped the metals at will. Tendrils siphoned out of their floating, liquid metal spheres, intermixing in odd and different amounts. Seven total mixtures were made, consuming all the material. From those seven, they gradually molded the cooling metal into smaller, more compact shapes. The whole process always reminded Velandra of mixing flour and kneading dough. Adding in little by little, fold by hand, and then knead into shape. Venyra, leading with her flexing arms and strong muscles, wasn’t all that hard to follow along. The metals bent beneath their magic, flattening, squishing, and shaping as they desired. Gradually, each one took on a more definitive shape: a long rectangular handle, on the bottom of which many toothed prongs emerged, and the top had a large, knobby handle. They were, in some part, comb-like at least. Before Venyra might cook off from being so flustered, Velandra drew her mana back in, closing their ethereal link. Pulling away, their eyes met, and she gave a slow wink, one that definitely caught Venyra’s attention. Velandra hid her smile behind a hand, using the other to beckon the floating, cooling down metal combs. Taking a step into the air, she and the combs went over to a wide workbench, partially built into the wall. Heavier footsteps followed after, and the two of them stood before the combs as they laid out across the bench. Not quite touching it, each hovered with safe respect to the wood underneath. “Those three,” Venyra said immediately, pointing across the combs, “are crap. Throw them out.” “… Do you not like how they look?” “No, the metals aren’t agreeing.” Squinting her glowing eyes, Velandra scrutinized the problems. Each of the combs had their own character—some were mainly green with streaks of red and gold, others took on a white-and-red color with the gold and green almost gone. The alloying wasn’t done in a mundane way, so they should’ve been quite fine regardless of their looks. Ah, wait, the mana is not agreeing in those ones. The layering wasn’t proper during the mixing. Velandra nodded, lifting upward with her hand and sending the rejects away. “Correct. You noticed the mana issues rather quickly.” “What about the mana? The metals are the issue.” They stared at each other, visibly on two different thought paths. Velandra rolled her eyes and turned back to the combs. “Well, we are left with four of them.” “Can you quench those two in water? Leave those two for air cooling.” Surprised by the newfound insight Venyra wanted to share, Velandra drew a finger through the air. Two combs flew up, splashing into a still-manifesting sphere of water. A roiling, audible hiss erupted out, burning-hot metals and cool waters trapped together. “Is there any reason?” she asked, paying no mind to the noise above them. “They’re both good. They’ll turn out differently depending on how they’re quenched.” Venyra looked around, casting a sharp eye upon the workshop. “And I don’t see any oil or salt in here.” “… Salt?” “Salt water quenches strongly.” “Have you not used crysium dust or even the tallow of a hundred-year-old beast?” Venyra’s brows furrowed deeper the more she seemed to think. “That just sounds strange.” “It is apparently used in some greater smith work.” “I’m not practiced enough for something like that.” “Would you like to?” Velandra asked, glancing out from the corner of her eye. “Ehh …” Venyra scratched her throat idly, thick claws quite audible against her hardy skin. “Maybe.” It is not as if she will want for materials, Velandra thought. But it is up to her all the same. The two combs quenching in the water cooled far quicker than the air ones. Drawing them out, Velandra let them fall into her hands, completely cool to the touch. Venyra leaned in immediately, looking at them critically. Her head pivoted back and forth every so often, a silent and unending examination. Although she set no pride in them, Velandra found herself almost ill-at-ease. What is the point of practice if she is going to judge them anyway? Another thoughtful look settled upon Venyra, her eyes narrowing and her slitted pupils tight in concentration. “Mm. This … one …” she said slowly, picking the one in Velandra’s right hand. Although it sounded like a decision, her gaze flicked fruitfully toward the one in her left hand instead. “For its looks, or the metals?” Velandra asked amusedly. “… The metals. That one will endure longer. The other one is …” “Is what?” “It looks nicer.” “Then we will simply keep them both.” “Eh?” Venyra’s head snapped up, a look of pure surprise as her pupils went from narrow to cutely round. Such an earnest expression disarmed her usually fierce look into something quite more adorable. “Wait, really?” “Yes, really,” Velandra said with an accepting ease. “Oh.” For a brief moment, Venyra smiled. Her lip twitched and pulled open on one side, the other a sort of half-nibble. Her cheeks lifted up then lit up with a tiny flare of hot, inner light that almost spilled out of her smile. For her, who had such difficulty in showing what she felt, it became like staring into the blazing sun for Velandra. A sight so utterly amazing it gave her adorable chest pains, yet she wouldn’t dare look away at all. Oh, her own cheeks were definitely getting warmer. “Why are you—“ “Let us move for a break,” Velandra cut off sharply, the magic of the moment broken and she swiftly looked away, cheeks burning red. “I require tea!” A bemused Venyra could only follow after Velandra as the sovereign hurriedly walked out. The attendant rose to follow, but quickly stopped when she noticed Jian was still sitting down. No, it rather appeared as if Jian had passed away in her chair, a look of complete, transcendent bliss upon her face. The attendant hurried over and started shaking her. “Sister Jian, you cannot go yet!” “How can I not, when I have seen perfection?” “Sister Jian!!”
Not long later, Velandra and Venyra retreated within a spacious pavilion. It was on higher ground, overseeing a large courtyard area and its myriad of homes, miniature gardens, and other niceties. A tray with a pot of fresh tea laid on a table next to them, all sorts of small treats—both savory and sweet—arrayed for their choosing. It deserved being called an idyllic arrangement, fit for leisure enjoyment and relaxation. The two of them sat on plush, purple cushions, Venyra in front of Velandra. The sovereign held a metal comb in her hand, gently guiding it through the utter mess Venyra called her hair. True enough, there were snarls of the strong-as-steel fibers, and a touch of magic was needed to unwind them. Pass after pass Velandra worked diligently, transforming Venyra’s hair into smooth crimson locks. By the end of it, the comb swept easily and comfortably, something so nice it lulled Venyra into a torpor. After a certain point the combing was ‘done’, but Velandra kept on with each loving sweep. Neither of them really minded. “I like your makeup,” Venyra said in a low, almost absentminded voice. “... Oh?” “Yeah.” “You are just saying that.” “No. You make everything look good.” Velandra laughed a laugh of someone as pleased as they were embarrassed, and Venyra’s awkward smile followed after.
It seems Torao finally finished the foundations, Velandra surmised, taking a long look ahead. A land bridge awaited, lined with meticulously cut bricks. A deep gorge awaited underneath it, a staunch physical barrier for the Star Forge’s perimeter. She still didn’t like how suddenly the surrounding palace grounds changed around it. Although some newer gardens had been laid down on the ‘outside’, they were works in progress. Until all the plans grew in, statues were laid down, and the artists decorated everything else, it looked like a mess. Not to mention the actual forge itself. Velandra squinted at the sight of such large and imposing brick-and-iron architecture. “I’m surprised you let them build that,” Venyra commented. “… Oh? Why?” “It doesn’t seem what you’d like.” “If I still don’t when it blows up again, it can always go back.” “Heh.” They walked across the land bridge, heading toward the multi-story monstrosity of a building. Traditional architecture met foreign design thinking, a strange joining that produced something garish. Hard iron frames met sturdy, tight brickwork, themselves wrapped in reinforcing rods. Smooth sweeping, decorative wooden roofs turned into rounded corners, all kinds of pipes bolted onto them. Unlike those in Lophern she’d seen, the architects of the Heavenly Palace tried to keep it all orderly. Bravely adorning beautiful styles and colorful arrangements so at least it wasn’t a mess of a building. That sort of care broke down when so much extra was added on, though. At the other end of the land bridge, a large, double-doored iron gate awaited. An attendant in front of it perked up, doing a visible double-take before hurriedly standing up. Rather than a guard, they wore thick, heavy padded cloth and a protective coat suitable for smithing. “This one respectfully greets the heavenly sovereign!” she said, bowing her head immediately when Velandra arrived. “So I receive. Is Mistress Torao occupied?” “I believe so,” the attendant answered. “I am certain she will make time for the heavenly sovereign.” “It is not needed. I require a simple forge room to use.” “Of course! Please, follow this one.” The attendant turned and shoved open the heavy, groaning gate. They all headed on through. The brick floor turned into metal plates, along which ran gutters covered by X-shaped grates. Pipes and mana channels sat underneath, rivers of deep, purple-colored mana pumping through, warmly alive with a dim glow. Shouts and yelling filled the air, punctuated by the slamming of hammers, clanging metals, and the noise of all sorts of mechanical devices. Storage crates, simple cranes to move goods, and conveyor belts pushing along heaps of raw ores filled the area. The ‘outer ring’ of the Star Forge, and where they walked through, acted as its primary processing grounds. Women and men moved along, pushing hovering carts full of goods: incomplete parts, be they simple fixtures like nails, mechanical components, personal wares, and no end to weapons or armors. Their black attires were stained deep in soot and grime, facial masks laced with wind-aspected crysium that kept their air breathable and clean. Velandra waved her hand, creating a near-invisible air bubble to keep the hot, cast-off furnace filth from touching her or Venyra. Everyone who crossed her path hurriedly bowed, waiting respectfully until she’d moved on by. “This is far more than I expected,” Venyra said, looking around with unabashed interest. “Where do you even get all this ore from?” “Shopping whenever we visit the surface. If I recall, our last batch was on hold because this forge blew up.” “Oh, I thought we mined out one of those floating islands or something.” “Do those even have metals on them?” Velandra wondered aloud. “I dunno. Maybe?” It’d mean no end of trouble with harpies and wyverns, so even if there was, she couldn’t see bothering with it. They reached the smaller, yet no less sturdy doors of a large, multi-story building. The attendant hurriedly opened them, letting everyone pass before hustling to the front again. Once inside, the air—still rather hot—became instantly cleaner. Hardy glass lamps sat in the curved, spacious ceiling of the hallway, their brightness strong enough to rival daylight. Rows of mana channels in the floor ran alongside the walkway, alive and thrumming from how much mana coursed through. Crysium-glass covers kept them both safe and delightfully interesting, for the mana underneath sparkled as it touched the glass. Fewer workers crossed their path, much more the forge smiths themselves than the support staff. They, too, respectfully bowed and made way for the sovereign before hurrying onto their own business. The side wall beside them began changing , turning into a long, reinforced window. Velandra gave it a quick glance, but Venyra’s curious hum really caught her attention. “Oh, vertical forging. That—hm, how long has it been?” “What are you muttering about?” Velandra asked, stopping over by Venyra and her curious looking. While the outside of the Star Forge was only a few stories high, it stretched deeper into the ground instead. From where she stood, the work area yawned like a small canyon. Floor after floor the different layers stacked on top of each other, strikingly similar to a bieneren hive. Cranes, pulleys, massive buckets full of molten metal, and more wound through the air, guided on metal rails and cables. The actual pieces of work themselves moved through the different layers on elevators. “It’s different but I used to work somewhere like this,” Venyra remarked, waving her hand at the scene. “You did?” Velandra asked, the first she’d ever heard of it. “Mm. Yeah.” That tone she did recognize well enough: Venyra’s way of telling she was deeply uncomfortable. Velandra held out a hand, and catching Venyra’s attention, swept in a motion to be followed. They silently made their way from the window, and the sovereign mindfully moved more alongside her lover rather than in front. Following the attendant, they reached a spiral staircase. Glass on either side framed it, one side toward the forge working areas, the other to an enormous, churning black void. Purple, gaseous tendrils chased the edges of its horizon, casting off twisting threads of luminous gossamer. Metal rings above and below the singularity awaited, prongs with fiber-catching teeth rotating endlessly around it. They spilled down the prongs, pooling into rivers of pure mana that flowed into awaiting channels. Venyra seemed far more interested in it than anything else on their walk up the stairs. She poked Velandra in the side, pointing at the massive singularity sphere silently. “You have one at home,” Velandra remarked. “Tch,” Venyra clicked her tongue, pursing her lips. Soon enough they’d arrived at a quieter, more out of the way area on the next floor. The attendant brought them to an iron door, quaint in its featureless existence. Sliding it open, she stood beside it, head bowed as Velandra and Venyra entered inside. “What else might the heavenly sovereign require?” the attendant asked. “A selection of intermediate metals. Five will do.” “I shall retrieve them immediately,” she said. “Good.” A rather neat arrangement awaited Velandra: one wall having all the mundane tools, and the other having all the magical ones. Two workbenches stood as the centerpieces, everything imaginable within reach. Neatly kept shelves and drawers sat with all sorts of useful items in place, and even labeled with their names. It would be farther ahead, toward the ‘back’ of the work area, the actual forge itself awaited. A widely circular pit with a black stone wall sat beneath a crysium-glass ceiling, glowing warmly from the fire at its heart. Velandra, stepping over to the edge, peeked inside. An ever-burning chunk of red star rock awaited, content at the pit’s deep center. The body of its flames were green, but the ends transformed into golden light, casting off shiny, glittering embers. Quite peculiar looking to her eye, at least. Venyra, too, peeked over with her. “Did you ever figure out what this was?” “Only that it, like all meteors, fell from the Heavens. Such a divine flame is beyond even my understanding, despite my efforts.” Velandra gave it a cool gaze. “But it’s happy enough to stay here and work for me, so I will not complain.” “Wait, that thing’s alive?” Venyra asked incredulously. “Being alive or dead is more of a suggestion than a rule where divinity is concerned,” Velandra remarked and looked over to the servants. “Make yourselves at ease, we will be here for a while longer.” They bowed, and retreated to a corner by the door where a table and some chairs waited. “So what are you going to make?” Venyra asked, sliding around the sides of the forge. “Your insidious idea of a comb has blotted out every other choice I could think of.” “Oh.” Venyra scrunched her nose. “Sorry.” And she takes offense where there is none, Velandra thought, almost letting out a sigh. “Don’t be, it is not a bad idea. I was already undecided in the first place.” “Mm. Where’s the vent?” Venyra asked, inspecting upward. Over the central forge, a large cylindrical tube acted as a venting apparatus through the glass ceiling. The evident problem was no handles or anything to actually open it could be found. “It’s—where is it?” Velandra found herself asking as well, stepping around the forge. The two of them kind of shuffled along together, looking for how the stupid thing was supposed to work. “Do you open it with magic?” Venyra asked. Velandra squinted and flicked her hand quickly, but the large cover within the tube hardly budged from the magical force. “No, it seems rather stuck.” “Erm, great sovereign?” They both looked over at servant Jian. Standing next to the wall, her hand laid on some kind of wheel handle. “It is a cranked chute.” They looked up as Jian pushed the wheel and the cover creaked open, stopping at a perfect vertical alignment. Venyra made some sort of nasally laugh at the back of her throat, and Velandra pursed her lips. “Really …” she muttered under her breath before saying louder, “Yes, so I see.” Jian bowed and shuffled off back to the corner, her face perfect in its professional neutrality. Venyra snorted a laugh, hiding it behind a hand when Velandra shot a look at her. A few minutes later, the doors opened, and the attendant from earlier pushed in a heavy-looking cart. Velandra headed over, Venyra in tow behind. Across the top of the cart laid twelve large pillows, upon them each a single, thick ingot of pure metal. Copper, iron, steel, sun-gold, silverdyne, and more—I asked for intermediate, Velandra thought, trying not to sigh. I ask for a cup of tea, I get a full course meal. It shouldn’t annoy her, but it ever made her feel like people couldn’t trust her exact words. “So what’re you starting with?” Venyra asked, rubbing her finger on an iron ingot like she’d never touched one before. “You have already made a selection, it seems.” “It feels funny.” “It is metal, how is it funny?” Venyra gave a half-hearted shrug. Velandra eyed her for a moment before giving it a curious feel as well. While indeed being iron, the surface of it was—rough, yet smooth. A slight thrum buzzed beneath her finger, the telltale sign of mana lingering. Minute and hardly worthy of being called an enchantment, but there all the same. Her eyebrow cocked upward while a knowing glint shone in Venyra’s eyes. “See?” “It feels like iron, yes.” Velandra rubbed her fingers together. She then made a gentle picking up motion, purple magic glowing around the ingot as it lifted in the air. Mindfully keeping it out of reach, she headed to the awaiting forge. “Then I will start with this one.” “Mm.” They both stood by the forge’s edge while Velandra magically threw the iron ingot in. It stopped in the air at the upper reaches of the divine flame, the green-and-gold fire eagerly blooming over it. “We will start with something simple. Do not be too greedy,” she commanded, though whether the flame cared or not was another matter. While the iron went about heating up, she made a circular motion with her index finger. The air within the forge began moving, silent as it swirled in a circular motion. The scattering embers flew along with it, rising up and out of the open vent above. Venyra stuck her hand into the vortex, an audible buffet of wind flapping against her hand as she surfed along. “Stop that,” Velandra said. “But it’s fun.” “It is a forge—“ Velandra’s consternation turned into her rubbing her forehead when Venyra stuck her head in next. Her crimson hair immediately started whipping in one direction, trying to follow the upward air current. “What?” Venyra asked loudly, undoubtedly deafened by the blowing wind. Velandra’s arm moved on its own, grabbing her by the collar and yanking her out of the forge. She staggered backward, her hair wildly puffed up and frizzy as it started settling down again. “I am making a comb to fix your hair, not let you tangle it more!” Velandra groused, yanking Venyra closer. In lieu of anything better, she tried fixing that fluffy crimson mess into something less ridiculous looking. Sadly, while snarls were usually rare, any that did appear needed a magic touch to unwind them. Venyra grunted with every swiping pass of her fingers, head jerking to one side or the other as Velandra worked. Tch. Strong as steel and softer than silk, she thought, pursing her lips. “Yeah, but you’ll fix it,” Venyra remarked. Velandra sucked in a breath as she slowly moved her hands down, clumps of hair wound between her fingers. She cupped Venyra’s scaled cheeks, staring down at her mouthy fushena with a calmly regal face. “Yes, of course I will,” she said, rubbing her thumbs on that roughly-soft skin. “Wait—“ Velandra pressed her hands in, squeezing Venyra’s whole face into a scrunched up mess. “But you will learn to take care of yourself better, won’t you?” “Bllbhfbhfbh—“ answered Venyra, sputtering nonsense. “Oh, the iron is burning.” Velandra let go and Venyra’s whole face sprang back into her proper look. The sovereign eyed the glowing ingot as it melted. Magical forces kept it from dripping into the divine flame, and so the waiting period was over. Brushing past Venyra, Velandra moved before the cauldron wall of the furnace. “Why’s the metal funny looking?” “How do you mean?” Velandra asked, glancing at Venyra squeezing in beside her. “The whole thing is melting rather than just one side.” “Fire from the Heavens heats the essence of things. It is far faster and more potent than a mundane flame.” “Huh.” Since Venyra seemed satisfied, Velandra focused back on her work. Holding her hands out just before the wind vortex, she flexed her awesome magic, finding a better, ‘imaginary’ grip on the metal. A dark purple aura gathered around the increasingly molten and luminous metal, dulling its blindingly bright light into something easier on the eyes. She squeezed her fingers, and the aura pressed in, deforming the iron ever so gently. Mm, it feels malleable enough. All kinds of magics had tricks to manipulate things. Hers, however, sufficed with pure simplicity: sheer power of will. There wasn’t a worry of overheating the metal, cooling it, or introducing unwanted impurities. Pulling her hands apart, she stretched the molten iron slowly into a long, sinuous strand that almost resembled noodles. Looping it around back onto itself, Velandra folded the strand into itself until a homogenous molten sphere formed. Everything looked and felt right, no undue cold pockets of metal left. “Does that count as water magic?” Venyra asked. “No, but the idea is similar.” “Oh. So why are you doing it this way instead of with one of those stupid pots?” Stupid pot—Velandra inhaled and closed her eyes for a moment, trying not to laugh. “I can feel, simply feel, generations of indignation from that remark.” “What? That’s what it is.” “The element furnace is a complex device used by fools with too much mana on their hands, yes,” Velandra said, dryly looking at Venyra. “I avoid using it.” “How come?” “That is a week’s worth of tea and table time alone.” Velandra tightened her hands and pulled them in, compressing the molten metal still floating in the furnace. Then, with the slightest tremble from resistance, pulled her hands apart. The metal deformed, the sphere turning into a cage of metal cords connecting one corner to another. The further it stretched, the greater the difficulty in keeping it cohesive. In another way, it looked like a spider web in a jar. “But, there is a simple way to explain it. Look at the metal.” “Alright.” “Metal is metal. Although I shape it with my will, it will always be metal.” Velandra pulled her hands in, reforming the molten sphere. A quick flex and it turned into a cube. “Despite using magic as my tool, the process is itself still fundamentally mundane.” “Sure. I can punch the iron myself too.” “The—what?” Velandra did a double take, looking over incredulously. “Punch the iron?” “… Yeah? How do you think dragons’ craft?” “By punching iron??” Venyra lightly snorted, her dark face warming up with an inner flame. She beckoned with a hand. “Give it to me, I’ll show you.” “It is molten metal, Venyra.” “Yeah, it isn’t that warm.” “I am not—“ Velandra scowled and turned halfway. One hand kept the molten metal up in the air while she pointed firmly at Venyra. “I am not having you hurt yourself for no reason.” Inscrutable though Venyra could be sometimes, Velandra boldly believed she understood her expressions. Still, right then a sort of look crossed her eyes that was hard to grasp ahold of. They stared at each other for a long moment, glowing purple against fiery gold evenly matched. “I’ll be fine,” Venyra said firmly. A rising glow of fire in her cheeks gave a silent, yet heated demeanor to her words. Not anger, nor embarrassment, not even confrontation necessarily. It generally meant, as far as Velandra knew, adding gusto to show one’s feelings. The sovereign wanted to sigh, but sufficed for clicking her tongue. She curled her hands, bringing the molten iron closer. “How will you grab it anyway?” “Mm.” Venyra eyed the floating metal sitting at the edge of the furnace’s cauldron. “Make it into a flat sheet and then wait a minute.” The metal morphed seamlessly underneath Velandra’s magic. Away from the divine flame, and with a helpful amount of air constantly lifting the heat out, its outside darkened noticeably quickly. Venyra clapped her hands together, rubbing her palms as fiery lines warmed to life in her arms. Tendrils of magma crept through her dark skin all the way to her fingers, a dimly red glow arising. Squaring herself up, she cracked her knuckles, a flash of light under her skin along with every audible pop. “Right, this again,” Venyra muttered while she reached out. Velandra watched, her sharp gaze turning to disbelief as Venyra grabbed both sides of the semi-solid iron. The dragon anaxial pushed then, arms flexing with power as she squeezed the iron section-by-section. Its air-kissed metallic ‘skin’ sloughed off with each groaning pinch, a rod-like shape taking form in Venyra’s hands. She rolled it between her palms, smoothing it out with an ease a noodle chef would envy. Tiny sparks shot out between her palms from the friction force. Giving the smooth rod a few taps against the edge of the furnace’s cauldron, she eyed it and snorted. “Well, that’s as good as a five second touch can do. See?” she said, looking over. “I live to be surprised,” Velandra remarked, her dry tone doing well to cover her disbelief. “How did you learn to do this?” “Mm. Back in Votyoger, they forced me to.” Venyra grasped both ends of the iron rod, bending it into a crude circle instead. A motion so simple and smooth it undersold the flex of muscles and strength she actually used. “Kept me busy when there wasn’t anything else.” “I—see.” “I don’t know how to make this into a comb,” Venyra said, looking down at the increasingly gnarled mess of iron she was folding. “There’s too much.” “For one, I would not use iron because it will rust. This is the practice material.” “Oh.” Motioning with her hand, Velandra sent the iron mess back into the furnace to melt again. Venyra, meanwhile, clapped her hands clean again, tiny sparks shooting off with each strike until they stopped. “It’s not like they don’t use tools,” she said, eying her palms for any residue. “They never let me use them. All the best stuff is handmade anyway.” Venyra scowled and started wiping her hands on her pants. “This stuff’s always sticky!” “Quit fussing, let me see,” Velandra demanded lightly, leaning over. Venyra almost said something, but just offered her hands up instead. The sovereign pinched her fingers together, and as they opened slowly, two spheres of pure water wobbled into existence. “Put your hands inside.” Venyra’s brows crept upward, but she nonetheless did. A slight hissing sound followed, the spheres warbling as hot and cold collided. Whether from holding glowing hot iron or Venyra’s own natural temperature, Velandra couldn’t tell at all. She nonetheless dared to reach in, daintily taking hold of Venyra’s hands in hers. Warm, certainly; but not unbearably or dangerously hot at all. Venyra hummed, looking at her questioningly. Velandra smiled politely, although her eyes shone with mischievousness. “Watch.” The water around their hands started churning, spinning and washing the grime that’d gathered. Venyra’s face twisted into something of surprise and laughter, her whole body suddenly tensing up. “T-this tickles,” she sputtered out, sparks of flames spitting out with every breath. “Does it?” Velandra wondered aloud. It simply felt like moving water to her; that and Venyra’s comfortably rough-scaled, yet fleshy-soft hands. Holding them wasn’t strictly necessary but such a convenient excuse couldn’t be passed up. Sadly, it only took a few more moments for everything to clean up nicely, and she lifted their hands out of the water. “Done.” Venyra inspected her clean palms with wide eyes while Velandra sent the dirty water off into oblivion. “It really did get all of it. Huh.” “Of course.” Velandra looked over toward the cart and its selection of metal ingots. She raised her hand and so raised all of them into the air to choose from. Hmm: you, you, and you. Three ingots out of the lot flew through the air, one a dark green with white fractures, one of solid gold, and one bright copper-red. In one more motion, she compacted the molten iron back into an ingot-like shape, then moved it off to the side to cool down. The other three sailed into the divine flame, which eagerly flared up at their arrival. “Let’s begin the real effort now.” “I’m surprised you know metals at all,” Venyra remarked, still kind of half-captivated by her very clean hands. “Are those not supposed to be my words?” “Forges are … mm, one of a few places that are safe for me.” Venyra blew a puff of air out of the side of her mouth, sparks going along with it. “You know.” “I can imagine why,” Velandra said with an obviousness to her words. “You never mentioned it, though.” “Don’t like them.” Venyra frowned. “Usually. It’s fun with you.” “Hm! Good,” Velandra declared, straightening her back a little. Always sweet when I’m not expecting it, tch. “You didn’t answer me.” “About what?” “Using the stupid pot method.” “Oh. That.” Velandra lightly pinched her nose, all sorts of choice words coming to mind. “It is … complicated,” she said, her same hand gesturing in a circle. “Elemental forging is, like magic, defined entirely by the person practicing it. A handful of people each trying to make, say, a hammer, would produce ‘a hammer’ but in different ways.” “Then what’s the point?” Venyra asked, seeming skeptical. “A gifted forger can create truly powerful works. Cultivators, in particular, greatly need it because they are so selfish in what they do.” Velandra shook her head, a scornful look appearing. “Not to mention the costs, in either materials or mana. Only such unreasonable people would pursue it in the first place.” “You’re all powerful, so why avoid it?” Venyra asked, the barest taste of something like teasing to her tone. Velandra shot a pointed look from the corner of her eye at the anaxial. “It narrows the mind,” she said before rubbing her temple for a moment. “No, even that is not quite it. Ah. Hmm. Do you remember elemental study?” “Sure, how everything is made up of elemental parts?” “The very same. Let us say you want to make a spear. First, gather the materials the spear is to be made out of, then throw them into the elemental furnace. They will break down into their respective elements. Through one's mana and magic, they then shape these raw elements into the ‘spear’.” “But like that hammer idea, how each spear comes out will be different for each person?” Venyra clarified, stroking her chin. “Precisely. Ideas like tempering, sharpening, enchanting—none of these are used in elemental forging. The quality of the spear entirely depends on the forger’s understanding, ability, and comprehension. It is so intrinsic to their own mind it cannot simply be explained, it must be conveyed through will.” “Oh, like those Law books?” “Them and more. It is a very—cheap way of creating something. It ignores fundamentals, and proper ways of transforming a work. The best method I, let alone others, have come to is this—“ Velandra gestured to the melting metals in the furnace. “Magic to bring change but with due respect toward how they are handled. It is challenging and informative, without being limited or too easy to use.” Venyra scratched the back of her head, fluffing her hair up. “It can’t be that great if I didn’t hear about it. The stupid pots method, not what—“ “Yes, I know,” Velandra answered airily, seeing Venyra worry about misspeaking. “It is great, in its own way. There is undoubtedly some mistress out there who can make works I cannot even describe. But, our history is full of those that relied upon such things, only to fall into ruin.” “How come?” “The craftswomen died out, and their inheritors weren’t as capable. The secrets of their mistresses went to the grave.” “Ah.” “It does not stop people from chasing after one forgotten artifact or another. I think those in Aerthen called it ‘adventuring’ or some nonsense.” The metals quietly reached a molten state during their conversation. Velandra eyed them for a moment before glancing down at Venyra beside her. “Perhaps the fierce woman would like to try some magic of her own?” she asked. A touch of formal words made Venyra look up at her like she was crazy. “You want me to use my fire?” “Hm! No. Consider my curiosity rather unbound. Do you want to try?” “… Might as well?” Venyra offered, clearly confused. Perhaps being vague wasn’t helping, but Velandra brushed that concern aside. For her idea to work, however, she needed to set down on the ground properly. It wasn’t much of a difference, maybe only a few inches, but from air walking to ground walking ever did feel different. She moved herself behind Venyra proper, pressing herself against her fushena’s backside. Their height differences stood out quite starkly then, Velandra quite easily capable of resting her chin atop Venyra’s head without issue. “Now,” she said with a tinge of amusement, “hold your hands out, like welcoming someone.” Venyra, whose whole aura turned into something flustered, nonetheless did so. Lifting her hands up, Velandra slid them along Venyra’s arms until both their hands lined up. It wasn’t exactly even, as Velandra’s were simply a touch larger and longer. Venyra shifted against her in a way only someone caught in something exciting would do. “Shush you,” Velandra said, her tone unbearably teasing. “You’re the one touching me,” Venyra bit back hotly. “Yes, yes.” Velandra rolled her eyes; even if it was fun, she had an actual purpose. The hand holding was just a nice side benefit. “Draw upon your mana and bring it into your hands.” Venyra grumbled in her throat, a rumbly sort of unintelligible noise. The churning cauldron of fire within her flared. At such a close distance, her warmth radiated into the body and soul itself, a comfortable heat. Familiar, too, to Velandra. The magma veins in Venyra’s exposed forearms and hands warmed awake, rivers of hot glowing orange. They were fun enough to trace, but right then wasn’t the time for it. “The idea is simple,” the sovereign said. “Feel my mana through your hands. Bring it close, like touching a cloud.” “Uhhh-huh. Sure.” Squeezing Venyra’s hands, Velandra smiled tight and exasperatedly. “And here you normally enjoy being so close.” “Yeah. Then you made me start floating.” “You had fun.” “Before or after I grappled you?” Venyra jolted and looked down at her hands. “Oh, that feels weird.” “It is not that weird,” Velandra said, despite the flowing mana definitely feeling a bit strange. The temple of the body ever has its own rules. Even ours will be fussy about it a little bit. As Velandra’s purple aura glowed along her hands, Venyra’s fiery glow flared up. As the two forces slowly collided together, a mixture arose—the soft purple turned wilder and fire-like, streaks of red interjecting its monotonous hum. Since the two of them were naturally close at heart, there wasn’t a great worry about rejection. Cooperation was the heart of such magic, no matter who tried it. “Red and purple do look good together,” Venyra remarked, sounding so normal that Velandra almost didn’t register it. “Ah—yes. Now, before I forget myself again,” Velandra said, muttering the last few words before speaking up again. “Think about grabbing the metals there. Imagine doing it with your hands, and then feel it.” “Okay?” Venyra said, sounding perplexed still. She nonetheless lifted her hands, Velandra’s following along in perfect sync. “I’m thinking about grabbing something but—“ she clenched her hands and the coppery-red metal deformed, squished like a ball in a fist. “Oh. That’s weird.” “Now you see,” Velandra said, smug and laughing all at once. “Your handiwork with metal and my magic. I am curious to see what we could make using that.” “Yeah. Alright.” Venyra perked up, an ease of excitement to her Velandra noticed immediately. Especially how Venyra standing up a bit straighter bumped right in her chin. “Sorry.” “Do not worry about it.” “Can I—uh, use your magic?” Venyra asked, testing every syllable she spoke with. “Use our magic? My magic … magic thing …” “Consider yourself greatly blessed indeed, Venyra,” Velandra said, a haughtiness undermined by a pleasant tone. “This heavenly sovereign permits you to use her power.” A nosy, spark-filled snort escaped Venyra, the dragon anaxial leaning her head back into Velandra’s neck. “This lowly one is so humbled,” she muttered out thickly. “No, no. Not lowly. A title more expansive, vast, world shaking … Veltron-shattering Mighty One?” Velandra asked, making Venyra snort again. “Fires-Breaking Dragonkiller? Unyielding Titanic—“ “—it’s so stupid!” Venyra squeezed out before laughing and shaking in Velandra’s arms. Their attempt at shared magic turned into the sovereign hugging her giggling and squirming lover. “No! Don’t call me that!” “Darkest Skies And Firelight? Gleaming Scales and Starry Beauty?” Velandra couldn’t help her own smile at how much Venyra snort-laughed and shook in some playful rejection of every suggestion. She is a tough one to bring out but when I can, ah, well … It wouldn’t be too much to indulge, would it? She squeezed Venyra to her heartily, holding onto the mirthful anaxial until the giggles finally eased. “Well. Ah. This mighty one is so grateful.” “Better,” Velandra said simply, her smirk unseen by anyone else. “If you need a more fitting title, I can always provide.” “My father might rise from his grave at that.” “Oh?” “He was humble. For a dragon.” “If he does, I will simply have to take you higher into the Heavens.” “You—I’m not standing here to be played with, you know.” How terribly hot Venyra grew, her veins glowing brighter as a real and terrible fire stirred to life. Velandra, although sorely tempted to tease her some more, knew when to give ground. “Then let us mix these metals together,” she said, her smirk impossibly difficult to keep under control. “I do not remember the alloy’s name but it was a sturdy one.” Once their minds actually went to the task at hand, it carried on remarkably quickly. Venyra, guiding Velandra’s nebulous magic in a silent union of their mana, drew and shaped the metals at will. Tendrils siphoned out of their floating, liquid metal spheres, intermixing in odd and different amounts. Seven total mixtures were made, consuming all the material. From those seven, they gradually molded the cooling metal into smaller, more compact shapes. The whole process always reminded Velandra of mixing flour and kneading dough. Adding in little by little, fold by hand, and then knead into shape. Venyra, leading with her flexing arms and strong muscles, wasn’t all that hard to follow along. The metals bent beneath their magic, flattening, squishing, and shaping as they desired. Gradually, each one took on a more definitive shape: a long rectangular handle, on the bottom of which many toothed prongs emerged, and the top had a large, knobby handle. They were, in some part, comb-like at least. Before Venyra might cook off from being so flustered, Velandra drew her mana back in, closing their ethereal link. Pulling away, their eyes met, and she gave a slow wink, one that definitely caught Venyra’s attention. Velandra hid her smile behind a hand, using the other to beckon the floating, cooling down metal combs. Taking a step into the air, she and the combs went over to a wide workbench, partially built into the wall. Heavier footsteps followed after, and the two of them stood before the combs as they laid out across the bench. Not quite touching it, each hovered with safe respect to the wood underneath. “Those three,” Venyra said immediately, pointing across the combs, “are crap. Throw them out.” “… Do you not like how they look?” “No, the metals aren’t agreeing.” Squinting her glowing eyes, Velandra scrutinized the problems. Each of the combs had their own character—some were mainly green with streaks of red and gold, others took on a white-and-red color with the gold and green almost gone. The alloying wasn’t done in a mundane way, so they should’ve been quite fine regardless of their looks. Ah, wait, the mana is not agreeing in those ones. The layering wasn’t proper during the mixing. Velandra nodded, lifting upward with her hand and sending the rejects away. “Correct. You noticed the mana issues rather quickly.” “What about the mana? The metals are the issue.” They stared at each other, visibly on two different thought paths. Velandra rolled her eyes and turned back to the combs. “Well, we are left with four of them.” “Can you quench those two in water? Leave those two for air cooling.” Surprised by the newfound insight Venyra wanted to share, Velandra drew a finger through the air. Two combs flew up, splashing into a still-manifesting sphere of water. A roiling, audible hiss erupted out, burning-hot metals and cool waters trapped together. “Is there any reason?” she asked, paying no mind to the noise above them. “They’re both good. They’ll turn out differently depending on how they’re quenched.” Venyra looked around, casting a sharp eye upon the workshop. “And I don’t see any oil or salt in here.” “… Salt?” “Salt water quenches strongly.” “Have you not used crysium dust or even the tallow of a hundred-year-old beast?” Venyra’s brows furrowed deeper the more she seemed to think. “That just sounds strange.” “It is apparently used in some greater smith work.” “I’m not practiced enough for something like that.” “Would you like to?” Velandra asked, glancing out from the corner of her eye. “Ehh …” Venyra scratched her throat idly, thick claws quite audible against her hardy skin. “Maybe.” It is not as if she will want for materials, Velandra thought. But it is up to her all the same. The two combs quenching in the water cooled far quicker than the air ones. Drawing them out, Velandra let them fall into her hands, completely cool to the touch. Venyra leaned in immediately, looking at them critically. Her head pivoted back and forth every so often, a silent and unending examination. Although she set no pride in them, Velandra found herself almost ill-at-ease. What is the point of practice if she is going to judge them anyway? Another thoughtful look settled upon Venyra, her eyes narrowing and her slitted pupils tight in concentration. “Mm. This … one …” she said slowly, picking the one in Velandra’s right hand. Although it sounded like a decision, her gaze flicked fruitfully toward the one in her left hand instead. “For its looks, or the metals?” Velandra asked amusedly. “… The metals. That one will endure longer. The other one is …” “Is what?” “It looks nicer.” “Then we will simply keep them both.” “Eh?” Venyra’s head snapped up, a look of pure surprise as her pupils went from narrow to cutely round. Such an earnest expression disarmed her usually fierce look into something quite more adorable. “Wait, really?” “Yes, really,” Velandra said with an accepting ease. “Oh.” For a brief moment, Venyra smiled. Her lip twitched and pulled open on one side, the other a sort of half-nibble. Her cheeks lifted up then lit up with a tiny flare of hot, inner light that almost spilled out of her smile. For her, who had such difficulty in showing what she felt, it became like staring into the blazing sun for Velandra. A sight so utterly amazing it gave her adorable chest pains, yet she wouldn’t dare look away at all. Oh, her own cheeks were definitely getting warmer. “Why are you—“ “Let us move for a break,” Velandra cut off sharply, the magic of the moment broken and she swiftly looked away, cheeks burning red. “I require tea!” A bemused Venyra could only follow after Velandra as the sovereign hurriedly walked out. The attendant rose to follow, but quickly stopped when she noticed Jian was still sitting down. No, it rather appeared as if Jian had passed away in her chair, a look of complete, transcendent bliss upon her face. The attendant hurried over and started shaking her. “Sister Jian, you cannot go yet!” “How can I not, when I have seen perfection?” “Sister Jian!!”
Not long later, Velandra and Venyra retreated within a spacious pavilion. It was on higher ground, overseeing a large courtyard area and its myriad of homes, miniature gardens, and other niceties. A tray with a pot of fresh tea laid on a table next to them, all sorts of small treats—both savory and sweet—arrayed for their choosing. It deserved being called an idyllic arrangement, fit for leisure enjoyment and relaxation. The two of them sat on plush, purple cushions, Venyra in front of Velandra. The sovereign held a metal comb in her hand, gently guiding it through the utter mess Venyra called her hair. True enough, there were snarls of the strong-as-steel fibers, and a touch of magic was needed to unwind them. Pass after pass Velandra worked diligently, transforming Venyra’s hair into smooth crimson locks. By the end of it, the comb swept easily and comfortably, something so nice it lulled Venyra into a torpor. After a certain point the combing was ‘done’, but Velandra kept on with each loving sweep. Neither of them really minded. “I like your makeup,” Venyra said in a low, almost absentminded voice. “... Oh?” “Yeah.” “You are just saying that.” “No. You make everything look good.” Velandra laughed a laugh of someone as pleased as they were embarrassed, and Venyra’s awkward smile followed after.
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