As they exited the library, Suhra was quiet.
Ashai noticed it immediately. When Suhra was thinking deeply, her steps became lighter, more measured, as if she were afraid of disturbing the thoughts themselves. Her eyes were distant, fixed on something only she could see.
Ashai didn't ask. He had learned that when Suhra grew quiet like this, words came better later.
Her thoughts circled the same question again and again. Ashai's dream. The beasts. And whether she should finally speak to her old professor about the entrance exam.
While walking through the bustling streets and getting closer to the Sigilspire, Ashai grew overwhelmed by how much was happening around him. Voices layered over one another. Footsteps. The hiss and crackle of Myhn being shaped in small, practical ways. Vendors heating stones. Children practicing simple glyphs that flared and fizzled.
The Myhn pressed close to him, not touching, not moving unless he looked at it. Waiting.
He focused on a sound. Metal and Myhn meeting.
It pulled at him.
He drifted away from Suhra without realizing it, locking onto the sound as if it had weight. It was almost like a resonating pang through the noisy streets. Swift but lingering, like the echo of a bell struck once and remembered afterward.
The alley opened before him, narrow and half-forgotten, leading to a small shopfront. Weapons and armor lined the walls, their surfaces alive with glyphs that shimmered faintly through steel and leather. Ashai stepped closer, breath shallow.
He was immersed in the layering of glyphs. No space was wasted. Each line curved into the next, compact but fluid, as if the armor had grown its markings rather than having them etched. The Myhn clung to them gently, settled and content.
"Beautiful," Ashai whispered.
He had never seen glyphs with such depth.
"What is a kid like you doing here, and how did you get through the barrier?" a gruff voice bellowed from the doorway.
The sound Ashai had been following stopped abruptly, leaving the air strangely hollow.
"Boy," the man continued, stepping forward, "how did you find this place?"
Ashai turned toward him and noticed the man's face was scrunched, his hand pointing toward a barrier visible from this side, torn open like fabric pulled apart by accident.
"I followed the sound," Ashai said simply. "Metal and Myhn."
"The sound, huh?"
Before the man could continue, a familiar voice cut in.
"There you are. Don't wander off like that, Ashai."
Suhra arrived at his side, quiet panic still clinging to her movements. Just moments ago she had lost him entirely.
"If it weren't for Vellura[1], I wouldn't have even found you in this place," she said, eyes scanning the alley. "What is this place anyway?"
"This is my smithy," the man replied. "And I didn't expect Suhra of the Still Step to walk into it."
Suhra stiffened, then relaxed, recognition dawning. Ashai barely noticed. He was still staring at the armor.
"I apologize for the intrusion," Suhra said, already weaving. She drew a circle in the air, threads crossing and knitting together. The torn barrier sealed itself with a soft sigh.
The man blinked. "How did you— Where are my manners. My name is Kairo, Master Smith of the Hidden Reliquary."
"Kairo," Ashai repeated quietly, testing the sound.
"Kairo?" Suhra tilted her head. "You wouldn't happen to be Kairo Runefold, would you?"
He smirked. "The one and only. I didn't think you'd remember me."
"I haven't seen you in twenty years," she said, smiling warmly. "It's good to see you, you old dwarf."
His smile wavered. "You know I don't like being called that. I'm not even short. How did that nickname stick?"
He feigned offense before glancing back at Ashai. "And who is this boy? He tore apart my barrier without even noticing."
"He's my s-apprentice," Suhra said. "His name is Ashai. As for the barrier… I don't know either."
"Well," Kairo said, studying Ashai anew, "if you don't want to say, I can't force you. Come in. I'd like to speak with the boy about what he heard."
Ashai lowered his head. "Sorry about the barrier."
Kairo waved it off. "Not a problem. Your master fixed it. Come. Tell me what you heard."
Inside, Suhra shaped water and fire in the air as Kairo prepared tea. The cups filled themselves as soon as they touched the table.
"We were walking," Ashai said slowly. "It was loud. I focused on something. Anything. Then there was a pang. It sounded like metal clashing, but it felt like when water is disturbed. Rippling."
Kairo stroked his beard. "Interesting. The barrier keeps sound in, but Myhn slips through. What you heard was me creating a sword."
He returned with a blade and a hammer covered in glyphs.
Ashai barely glanced at the sword. His eyes locked on the hammer.
"What are those glyphs?"
Kairo smiled. "Four total. The face changes shape. The sides alter weight and reinforce structure. The handle— what do you think it does?"
Ashai thought. "Does it remove impurities?"
"Close," Kairo laughed. "It stores ambient Myhn and forces it into the material. Purifies it. Drives the impurities out."
Suhra added softly, "Kairo specializes in combining Veythra[2] and Sygros[3] to create artifacts."
Ashai stared at him like he was looking at a living story.
Later, as they left, Ashai asked if they could return.
"Focus on your training," Suhra said. "If you do well, you can visit him more."
Ashai beamed.
The Sigilspire loomed ahead, massive and endless. Inside, the main floor opened wide, reception desk circling a central pillar.
At the desk, a woman greeted them. "My name is Jessica. How can I help you?"
"I am a student of Mr. Abbarai," Suhra said. "Suhra Wyndream."
Jessica froze. Then rushed to send a message.
On the second level, Ashai asked quietly, "Wyndream is my name too?"
Before Suhra could answer, a voice boomed.
"Suhra! You little rascal! Sixty years and not a word?"
An old man strode toward them, beard trailing, staff tapping loudly.
"You're dramatic as always, Master," Suhra laughed.
"Dramatic?" he scoffed. "That damn dean works me to the bone."
Ashai watched carefully. This was not fear. This was affection.
"And who is this?" Abbarai asked.
"My apprentice," Suhra said. "The reason I'm here."
Abbarai studied Ashai. "Ah. So you're the trouble."
In his office, surrounded by books, Abbarai tested Ashai carefully. The orb shifted through sensations, growing unstable around him. The Myhn hesitated, then bent inward, circling Ashai like it was waiting for instruction.
Abbarai's humor faded into focus.
"Six forms," he muttered. "Strong affinities. And yet… odd. Very odd."
"What?" Suhra asked.
"The Myhn behaves as if he's the center of the weave, not a part of it."
He nodded once. "He can take the entrance exam."
They discussed the dream.
"Voronarch," Abbarai said quietly. "And Volyrr. You saw legends."
Later, walking back to the inn, Ashai felt it again.
The Myhn flowing backward.
A man passed him. The flow reversed around him, curling like it was being pulled.
The man looked back. Smiled.
For a moment, Ashai felt the Myhn lean toward him, waiting.
Then the man was gone.
That night, Ashai dreamed again.
Mist. Thunder-light flashes. A blue shape moving like storm-glass.
"Leave, boy," a voice rumbled. "This place isn't safe."
"Volyrr," Ashai whispered.
"Yes, boy," the beast replied. "Now tell me your name."
"My name is Ashai Wyndream."
[1] Detection and life sensing form.
[2] Elemental Discipline
[3] Glyph Discipline