As Papa and auntie Tresla left, Bevel smiled and waved. She still couldn’t believe she had a new Papa. And such a kind one too. She loved her mother and father, had missed them terribly in the lonely years, along with her sister.

But her parents had never come looking for her when she’d ran away or got lost.

Keria had. And so had Papa.

Bevel took a deep breath. She needed to be independent. She was finally growing! She was almost up to Papa’s chin, and every trial seemed to add just a little more. She turned back to the distorted gravity effect Inertia was studying.

Much as she’d wanted to go with Papa, they’d been told she wouldn’t be allowed into the important part of the library. She’d decided to stay with Inertia instead. It was much better than waiting around with Tamrie, even if auntie Tresla was going to be there too.

Besides, the big eagle-clanger-woman wasn’t nearly as scary as Bevel had once thought. Inertia was actually a pretty gentle person, once you got to know her. Long as you didn’t leave tools lying around the workshop. Even Papa didn’t dare leave a tool out of place when the work was done, if it was in Inertia’s workshop.

Listening carefully, Bevel could just barely pick up the constant stream of murmuring coming from Inertia. It was always there, if a person was listening. Not words as she knew them, but there was meaning.

It wasn’t something she’d noticed at first, but once she’d watched her auntie Tresla pull out the smoke pipe and - curious about how the wind seemed to dance around the smoke instead of pushing it - she’d sharpened her wind sense.

Bevel had discovered the smoke and the mumbling were pushing back and forth between each other. When she’d asked auntie Tresla about it, she’d told her, “That is how the Forgeborn communicate with each other. Their hearing is much more sensitive than ours. Sensitive enough they’re able to pick up on those distortions as words.”

“Even through the hisses, whistles and clanks?” Bevel had asked.

“Even through the hisses, whistles, and clanks. The occasional pop and rattle too,” Tresla had replied, red and blue light escaping her hood.

Ever since then, Bevel had spent a few minutes each day practicing listening for those murmurs. She couldn’t hear them with her real ears, of course. Only uncle Calbern could do that.

But the Wind Within, her magic, could feel them. And through the Wind, Bevel heard.

At that moment, Inertia was murmuring pretty fiercely. It almost felt like Inertia was mumbling to the strange upside-to-downside enchantment.

Bevel watched for a little while as Inertia pushed different tools in and out of the field. It inspired her to try moving herself in and out of it.

And as she did, Bevel noticed there might be more to the enchantment than she’d first thought. There was a sort of hum when she passed over the edge, one she’d noticed when using the air to boost her jumps before.

Calling on the Wind Within, she held herself right on the edge. There was… something.

She pulled out her notebook, and started taking notes, just like Papa. And as she did, she kept experimenting.

After a while, she moved out of the effect, testing her Wind Within.

Extended flight had always been too much for her, unassisted. But studying the gravity field had made her realize that’s because she’d been using too much force that wasn’t doing anything.

Papa’d mentioned something about that before, when designing the Gliders. It was why a properly channeled Gust was enough to get one to fly despite being a first Order spell. It just hadn’t been enough for it to knot the idea into place.

Now, Bevel found herself supporting herself with a fraction of her Wind Within. Further experimenting, moving in and out of the field allowed her to refine it further. At the rate she was spending her Wind, she’d be able to fly for hours without touching the ground!

Inertia seemed to notice her success, because she started putting her tools away, folding them underneath her armor. Then she walked around Bevel.

The large eagle-clanger-woman stopped in front of Bevel, eyes whirring as they focused. Then she let out a hiss of steam in a word Bevel understood quite easily. “Fly?”

“I think so,” Bevel said, moving about excitedly, slowly figuring out how to steer without bumping into one of the nearby guards or the transparent floor.

There was a clanging from behind her, and before Bevel could respond or even register what was happening, she felt herself hurtling towards the exit. She wove around the startled guards stationed on either side, then flew up the steps, only glancing back once she was outside.

Which was when she saw Inertia barreling towards her, her large form taking up the entire passage, wings scraping the marble in a shower of sparks.

Bevel flipped backwards, unintentionally using her old method to control her aerial dodge.

Which sent her flying high above the pyramid they’d exited out of.

While she was still figuring out her ups from her downs, Inertia flew up next to her. The clanger-woman circled around as she once more let out the word, “Fly!”

“Oh,” Bevel said, looking down and realizing that, yes, she was definitely flying. “Oh!”

After that, Inertia tilted to the side, letting out a whistle hiss of laughter.

It sounded like a challenge to Bevel. So she took off after her large friend. Bevel pulled on the sides of her robe, attempting to use it like she used her glider. But it interfered with the Wind Within.

After several seconds of futile struggle, Bevel let go of her robe, pulling it tighter instead. After a minute of tightening her robes, she was wobbling less. A lot less.

Which let her catch up with Inertia, at least for a second.

Soon as Bevel got close, Inertia took off again. They flew over the city in a wide circle as she got used to handling herself in open air. As they went Bevel spotted several other people in the sky she hadn’t noticed while on the ground. Most of them used enchanted platforms, though one seemed to be riding a cloud.

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None of them were going half as fast as her and Inertia.

After one last circle of the uppermost level of Spellford, Inertia led her down, over one of the canals. Bevel followed, letting out a squeal of laughter when Inertia flapped both her wings hard enough they caused the water from the canal to spray up behind her.

Emerging from the other side of the curtain of water thoroughly soaked, Bevel spent a second searching for Inertia before spotting her high overhead.

Bevel left her own waves in the canal as she rocketed upwards. The Wind Within carried a few shocked and angry voices to her ears.

Which only reminded her of home.

They soared along several more canals, Bevel laughing the whole time before Inertia came to a sudden stop.

It was so sudden that Bevel nearly smacked into her, soaring past so close she could feel those subtle vibrations of Inertia’s on the envelope of her Wind Within.

Righting herself, Bevel found Inertia flapping in place, staring downward. Following Inertia’s gaze, Bevel noticed the busy street below.

There seemed to be some sort of celebration going on, down on the street. That wasn’t unusual. It felt like half the city was still celebrating the race. There were a lot of those Surgers with their white shirts down there, but they were close to where the race had finished, so that wasn’t unusual either. What was unusual was the number of forges on the street. And how many people were using those forges that were just… bad at it.

Almost as bad as Bevel had been the first time Inertia had let her pick up a hammer, and she hadn’t even been four feet tall yet.

Then Bevel noticed the signs, and the fact that tall sturdy men stood over those who were using the forges. It was part of the celebration. They were letting people play at using the forges!

Inertia would never allow that.

Yet it turned out that wasn’t what had caught Inertia’s attention. Not directly.

Below them, at one of the forges, was a being who definitely wasn’t new to the craft. Bevel doubted any Forgeborn could be bad at forging though. Was kinda in the name. Even she got that one.

And that’s what the being was, without a doubt. It wasn’t the same as Inertia. In fact, it was more like one of those storm bears Calbern had shown her in the bestiaries. Except without the wind, lightning or ice, and a lot more metal.

All metal, Bevel imagined.

“Should we go say hi?” Bevel asked.

This seemed to shock Inertia out of her shock as the clanger-woman tilted her head towards Bevel. Then she gave a slow nod, redirecting towards the forge with the Forgeborn working it.

Bevel, once more, followed.

When they got closer, Bevel noticed a cloaked figure much like Tresla, though they were bigger. Still not as tall as her Papa, but taller than Bevel, even with her recent growth spurt.

Much as Bevel felt that was unfair, they were all dwarfed by the massive Forgeborn working in the forge. The forge and tools looked more like toys next to the massive bear clanger that was using them.

More steam bellowed off of the clanger than smoke came out of the furnace, despite the heat pouring out of the forge pit.

There was a crowd nearby, though that could be said of most of the street. Luckily, they parted for Inertia when she landed. Bevel still wasn’t used to the number of people coming in and out of Tetherfall, and this many people in one place had the Wind Within churning uncomfortably. Bevel considered attempting to drop onto Inertia’s shoulder instead of risking the crowd before deciding against it.

She did land though. The churning made her realize how low her Wind Within was getting, despite her new method. There might’ve been a few times where Bevel had gotten carried away during their race.

When they got close to the forge pit, Inertia stopped, her arms behind her back as she…

‘Was she waiting?’ Bevel thought to herself, stopping next to the clanger-woman. She wasn’t used to Inertia waiting for anyone other than auntie Tresla.

The figure who looked like Tresla noticed them, because how did you not notice an eight foot tall clanger-eagle-woman?

“Ah, I see we have an esteemed visitor today,” the cloaked form said, and Bevel couldn’t help but squint at its voice. It wasn’t anywhere as pleasant as Tresla’s.

If anything, it was the opposite. None of the words came out sounding quite right, and even grated on her ears. It was almost as bad as Conflict, and she was pretty sure that Conflict at least did it on purpose.

Inertia tilted her head slightly, inspecting the being. Then a second later, she turned back towards the bear-clanger.

“Ah, yes, Equilibrium was in the city to see the High Shaper, and heard of the local tradition to forge utensils as a guest gift,” the being explained, as though it’d been asked a question. Bevel realized it probably had. “And who might you be?”

After a second, Bevel realized the question was directed to her, and not Inertia.

“I’m Bevel, Inertia’s friend,” Bevel explained, nodding to the man with the same narrow head tilt uncle Calbern would use. It felt like an uncle Calbern moment. More than it had with the High Shaper. The old elf had been less tightly wound than she’d been expecting.

And he liked smoothies! Even if his weren’t as good as Esbee’s.

“Greetings Bevel, I am Oltras, Equilibrium’s translator for the season,” he said, bowing lower than Bevel had.

That pleased her for some reason. Then the phrasing of his introduction struck her. “For the season?”

“Indeed. Unlike most Forgeborn who venture outside the Forgelands, Equilibrium doesn’t believe in extended pacts. Says they remind him too much of the old Slave Bonds,” Oltras said, shifting to look towards the clanger-bear-man.

Bevel didn’t know what to say to that, so she stayed quiet. She also wasn’t sure how she felt about how many strangers were crowding around them, and drew closer to Inertia. Nothing good, that was certain.

After another minute of relative silence, the large Forgeborn finished its task, holding up a pair of utensils Bevel didn’t recognize.

It was only in that moment that she remembered Inertia didn’t eat. Was Equilibrium different, or were they simply a gift?

What had Oltras said? She’d honestly been struggling to pick out his words through his awful voice.

With the forging done, Inertia and Equilibrium took a step towards each other, only stopping when their faces were a few inches apart.

Bevel could feel the vibrations rolling between them, even with the Wind Within resting. They were murmuring extra loud.

“They will likely be at this for some time,” Oltras said, nodding his head towards a pair of seats next to the forging pit. “We might as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait.”

Bevel nodded, lowering herself into the seat carefully.

“I’m a little surprised to see your friend here without a translator,” Oltras remarked. “Not many Forgeborn travel without one.”

“Oh, Tresla’s up in the big fancy library,” Bevel said, waving her hand in the direction of the central tower.

“She is… apart from her protector?” Oltras asked, his already discordant voice somehow getting even worse. “And she remains woven?”

“Uh… yes?” Bevel asked, giving the strange being a concerned lookover. Had she upset it?

“That is… most unusual. I suspect she will have quite the tale to unweave when she returns to the Myriad,” Oltras said, running its gloved hands over each other. “I do not think I could resist the pull of the pact for more than a few minutes.”

“Pull?” Bevel asked, immediately regretting her curiosity, since it meant she’d be subjected to even more of its voice.

“There is always a pull between the Protector and the Translator. It ensures we remain whole and safe,” Oltras explained.

“Auntie Tresla never mentioned a pull,” Bevel said, squinting at him, trying to figure out if he was just pulling her rope.

“Considering she is able to be so far away from her protector for minutes at a time, it must be far weaker than mine. Or she is far stronger,” Oltras said, hands still moving.

The being suddenly stood up, reaching for an object on his back.

Bevel was still processing the sudden movement when the sword flicked out of its sheathe.

It was a long straight blade and it had smoke curling up off of it. The smoke reminded Bevel of her auntie Tresla’s pipe.

“Does she have the blade?” Oltras asked, its voice still quavering painfully. “How attuned to it is she? Does it feel like broken-”

Before Bevel could process the questions, nevermind respond, a large hand descended on Oltras’s shoulder. Equilibrium stood there, his very bear-like head looking down at his translator.

Once more, Bevel could feel the vibrations as the Forgeborn ‘spoke’.

“Master Equilibrium extends his many apologies. He wishes to reassure you that this humble being meant no harm when it drew the blade. Nor do you need to answer his translator’s nattering questions,” Oltras said, its words far less painful on her ears.

“Uh… apology accepted?” Bevel found herself asking. Then an idea struck her. A brilliant idea. Possibly the best idea she’d had in the last ten minutes.

“Can I hold the sword?”