The merchant was a Luminarite, hailing from the floating citadels of Aetheria. Because of a treaty forged between the Iron Dominion and Aetheria fifty years earlier, sky kin were some of the most numerous—and tolerated—foreign races living within Ironhelm.

  So when a young, up-and-coming merchant named Valtix sought to begin his career, he left Aetheria, setting his base of operations in the city-fortress of Stonegate. Because of the city’s distance from the Aetheria–Ironhelm border, it had not yet been penetrated by Aetherian merchants, making it a prime, untapped market.

  One of Valtix’s first orders of business was setting up supply routes, which just so happened to lead him to Korrin’s village, a local producer of warforge crystals and other ore. It was then that the two had met, four years ago…

  Valtix was a man of average stature, his skin emitting the soft, radiant blue-white glow of a Luminarite. His calculating eyes were a sharp, crystalline blue, complemented by the opportunistic grin that never left his face. His posture was rigid yet energetic, further emphasized by a mechanical watch strapped to his forearm. He always dressed in a precisely tailored tunic of reinforced silksteel, adorned with small humming Aetherium pylons.

  The day he arrived in Hearthglen, the entire village was in an uproar. Because they were so far down south, it was many of the villagers’ first time seeing a sky kin. During the few days Valtix stayed in the village, children followed him constantly, scattering whenever he turned to wave. Amused, Valtix would give gifts and trinkets to any child who dared approach him.

  Naturally, Korrin was nowhere to be found in the group of children. It was around this time that a melancholy atmosphere had enveloped Korrin’s household; it had been a week since Kethra died. Korrin was depressed, and Korrin’s parents, too, were distraught. But while losing a family member was unfortunate, showing weakness was dishonorable. Within days, Korrin’s parents had returned to their normal selves.

  In a fit of rage at his parents’ indifference, Korrin locked himself in his room, only opening the door when in need of food or water. For a week, Korrin had rotted inside his bedsheets, staring at the dark ceiling with empty, sleepless eyes. His emaciated body and cracked lips showed signs of neglect, reinforced by the many unfinished bowls of gruel that lay on his bedside table.

  Korrin indulged in the silence, his mind teetering on the edge of oblivion. Something had to be done to stop his self-destructive depression. Suddenly, two sets of footsteps approached his door, a soft knock soon following.

  “...Korry? Are you eating? You can talk to us when you’re ready. We’re here for you…”

  Met with silence, Korrin’s mom continued after an awkward cough.

  “Anyway, you’ve got a guest. She’s very worried. Please, dear, talk to her at the very least…”

  With those words, he heard his mother turn around, her footsteps soon fading. However, a shadow still lingered at the edge of the door, the owner of it letting out a slight sniffle.

  “Korrin, are you there? I haven’t seen you all week. Please… please respond. I don’t want to lose you too…”

  A little startled to hear the voice of Rikka, Korrin opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He didn’t deserve her sympathy.

  “Korrin, please,” Rikka croaked, her breath shaking. “Let me in. I-I’m sure we can solve this together.”

  Once again, she was met with silence. After a few seconds, he could hear Rikka turn around and walk away from his room, leaving Korrin to his own thoughts.

  ‘I should have never been born. I can’t swing a sword, and I couldn’t save my sister. I can’t even keep a frien—’

  His thoughts were interrupted by loud thumping in the hallway, as if someone were sprinting toward his room. A second later, a loud crash thundered from the door as Rikka flew right through it, shattering it into splinters.

  A surprised Korrin jumped from his bed, falling to the floor with a shocked expression on his face. Soon, he was hoisted in front of Rikka, her fist clenched around his collar.

  “Korrin! I refuse to let you live like this! Please, for the sake of your sister, get up!” Rikka roared.

  Korrin clenched his teeth, anger and sadness welling up in his eyes. “It was all my fault! My fault! If only—!”

  “If only what?! If only you hadn’t brought her into the forest?! If only you had fought the cinderwolf?! You would have been dead!”

  Calming her tone, Rikka’s expression turned cold and stared straight into Korrin’s grey eyes. “Kethra would rather sacrifice herself than live the rest of her life knowing she could have saved you. She’s looking down on us from the Smith-Father’s embrace, content with her choice. So live for her.”

  A mix of complicated emotions rose to his face as he pondered Rikka’s words, her fists unclenching his collar and lowering him to the ground. But guilt still lingered in Korrin’s mind. Without another word, Korrin ran from the room, grabbing a coat as he rushed past the door.

  From behind him, he could hear Rikka yell, “Korrin—!”

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  But as Rikka attempted to chase him out of the entrance door, she exited the house and realized Korrin was already gone.

  On a cliff that overlooked Hearthglen, a sobbing boy sat, his legs curled to his chest. It had been his sister’s favorite place, where she often brought Rikka and him to play. The village was serene, the villagers going about their day as usual, ignorant of the boy’s plight.

  “Oh dear, what do we have here?”

  As Korrin wallowed in his misery, an unfamiliar voice appeared from behind, a slight hint of curiosity within it. Turning around, he saw a young man with skin radiating a soft, blue glow, his clothes unlike anything Korrin had seen. A grin was plastered across his face—not sinister, but unsettling nonetheless.

  Rubbing his swollen eyes, Korrin turned to look at the man.

  “Who… who are you?”

  “Me? Oh, don’t mind me! I’m just surveying the land right now. You can go back to weeping… or whatever it was you were doing.”

  Confusion cut through Korrin’s grief. For the first time all week, something had distracted him from himself. Instead, all he could do was stare incredulously at the strange man who was currently scanning the village.

  “Say, kid. You wouldn’t happen to know the greatest surplus of resources this village produces, would you? I can’t speak to any of these barbarians; they don’t even understand basic accounting!”

  “Surplus? Accounting?”

  “Sigh, nevermind. Anyway, do you want a gift? Maybe it’ll cheer you up.”

  With those words, the strange merchant rummaged through a bag strapped to his back, retrieving a book.

  “Ahm… I know you guys can’t read, but maybe the pictures will be enough. Here, take it.”

  Retrieving the book, Korrin looked at it with confusion.

  “Well, I’ll be off! You have a good one—”

  “The Adventures of Kestren the Executioner,” Korrin read quietly.

  Valtix froze mid-step. Slowly, he turned.

  “Kid, what did you just say?”

  “That’s the name of the book,” Korrin said, uncertain now. “Isn’t it?”

  With a slight pause, Valtix gazed at Korrin, the calculating nature in his eyes shifting.

  “Where did a country bumpkin like you learn to read? An academic dialect of Lingua, no less.”

  “I-I don’t know,” Korrin whispered. “I just looked at it… and I understood.”

  “Interesting… very interesting! Here, what does this say?”

  One by one, Valtix pulled scrolls and books from his bag, each written in a different dialect or language. Yet incredibly, the meaning of unknown words seemed settle into Korrin’s mind as if they had always been there. Even when it came to some ancient script or forgotten languages, Korrin easily identified the meaning of each word.

  “Fascinating! How absolutely wonderful! Say, you wouldn’t mind joining my merchant company, would you? You’ll be the first iron kin! You’re one in a million in these barbaric lands, you see.”

  Hesitantly, Korrin scratched the back of his head awkwardly, taken aback by the merchant’s fascination.

  “Well… my parents say being a merchant is not that honorable of a job… I don’t want to disappoint them…”

  “Tsk, ignore those idiots. Iron kin and their nonsense honor! But if you don’t want to join, I won’t force you… But seriously, with your talents, it would be a waste for you to be sent to the frontlines to die.”

  With this comment, Korrin’s body flinched. He knew very well that those who couldn’t contribute to the dominion—and even those who could—were often shipped to the frontlines to fight one of Ironhelm’s many unending wars.

  “But fret not! I have a solution! You see, I just acquired some connections within Stonegate’s administration. If you so wish to do something meaningful with your life, I can at least get you a cozy position within the city!”

  Korrin pondered the proposal for a moment. Sure, administration work was not seen as the most honorable occupation, but at least he would be contributing something to society. Plus, his inability to contribute to anything involving strength or swords was slowly becoming more apparent as time moved on.

  Korrin hesitated. “Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll take your offer.”

  “Great! You won’t regret it!”

  “...and so I said to the man, ‘No way in Nexus am I taking that deal!’ But he just looked at me, confused. I forgot I was in Ironhelm! What do you call it, instead? Ashfall, was it…”

  One thing that Korrin realized over the years was how talkative Valtix was. It wasn’t inherently unpleasant; it was just that he sometimes rambled when the mood wasn’t right—like now.

  While Valtix sat at the front of the covered wagon, guiding two horses with their reins, a deeply exhausted Korrin sat between empty crates, a sullen expression on his face. Rikka, still unconscious, had her head on his lap, unaware of the concern that lingered within Korrin.

  Around Korrin’s neck was the silver necklace, and strapped to his back was the warped starveil sword, its edges dull and battered. Korrin had managed to find it while rummaging through the rubble.

  “Valtix,” Korrin said quietly, “we need to reach Stonegate quickly. Rikka won’t last much longer.”

  “Oh dear. I’ll take that as a cue to be quiet!”

  They had already been traveling for multiple days through the hilly plains of the southern region, the mountains in the distance growing larger and larger with each passing day. The rolling hills had now transformed into large clusters, the shifting elevation and constant bumps in the road sometimes leaving Korrin nauseous. Indeed, what his parents said was true; as one traveled closer towards the core of Ironhelm, the more mountainous the terrain became.

  By all accounts, Rikka should have been dead by now without food or water. Fortunately, Valtix carried with him certain items from the realm of technology that allowed them to stabilize Rikka by injecting her with vital essences.

  Soon, the hills fell away, and the road began to climb. Looking out of the flaps in the wagon cover, Korrin saw that they had reached the mountains, the ones that Korrin had been aimlessly staring at for years past—no longer distant or unreachable.

  Valtix let out a low whistle. “I’ll admit. For a nation obsessed with war, they do build quite magnificently.”

  As they approached a canyon that split the mountains in two, an enormous fortress came into view. Massive walls of reinforced stone and black iron were carved directly from the mountains themselves, etched with intricate war murals and pierced by strategic arrow slits. The skyline was decorated with geometric spires capped with bronze anvil motifs and imposing terraces. Hundreds of guards lined the battlements, their armor swallowed by mountain shadow, unmoving as statues.

  For the first time, Korrin felt truly small. They had reached Stonegate.