Page 18 of Because the Gods Left

“I’m not the only one, though.” Iryana tried not to shrink beneath his cutting gaze.

“We have no proof of that.”

“I’m not the only one who can attest to it,” Iryana pressed. “The late general of the 18th, he was… something. His tattoos were not just metal or fire; they were both. A combination. As if he was forged with both at once. And his forgings were so dark, they just looked like there was an incredible amount of metal magic concentrated in them. But his forging shattered my metal one, which metal cannot do to metal. And I saw his tattoos.”

“It’s hard to know if you are correct without seeing it for ourselves,” complained Kresik. The Scholar tilted his head slightly, though.

Iryana pressed her lips tightly together. She did not like Grand Keeper Kresik.

“There are so many factors at play here, it’s hard to say why Iryana survived.” Gyerhna slowly tapped her fingers against the arms of her chair. “Was it the water or metal well in particular? Something about the magic there? Perhaps the Keeper had some great skill? Could the ordering have mattered? It could even be something about Iryana herself. We have no way of knowing.”

“The question is whether we can replicate it,” Kresik pointed out. “In theory, we can repeat every part of it other than Iryana herself, of course.”

“But who would we ask to risk themselves?” Gyerhna argued. “And we have so few metal-forged already. Losing even one would be a shame.”

Iryana nodded her agreement, but neither Grand Keeper was paying her any attention.

Gyerhna’s face scrunched up with worry. “The number of experiments that would be required to narrow down exactly what allowed this girl to be dual-forged is significant. So much loss of life…”

“Sacrifices are sometimes necessary.”

Iryana stiffened. She knew it was the truth, but she’d been at the losing end of that sentiment enough times to not want to doom anyone else.

“We could ask for volunteers,” added Gyerhna reluctantly.

“And make this public knowledge?” Kresik scoffed.

“Then maybe we offer it to a select few?”

“Hmm… this clan already knows, and they’re likely more similar to Iryana than others.”

The blood drained out of her face. Her family? Uncle Dinhal and Aunt Emadya were the only other metal-forged beyond the First. Horror filled her as she realized they might even want someone recently forged with metal instead… like her cousin Levek would soon be.

“No,” Iryana barked, voice unyielding as she stared them down. She would not see her family experimented on. “My clan will not risk anyone to try this.” They looked offended, so Iryana added, “Besides. I’m not sure my dual-forging was a complete success.”

Gyerhna considered her. “How so?”

“The magics do not seem to be settling in me. I recovered from the first forging quickly, but I still haven’t from the second. It has been weeks now, and they’re still a struggle to form.”

“It wouldn’t be surprising if it took longer for a dual-forging; it is certainly unnatural,” Kresik drawled.

Iryana followed Gyerhna’s gaze as she slowly turned to the Scholar who had thus far been silent.

“I see that look on your face, Scholar Alar.” Gyerhna pointed a finger at the man. “If you know something, speak!”

Iryana didn’t know what the woman had seen in the Scholar, but he seemed as closed off as ever to her. Unreadable and unflappable.

“I may be separated from metal’s side of the conclave,” the Scholar said coolly, “But I do not owe you Noshtiz’s secrets.”

“You fool,” Kresik growled. “This is bigger than your allegiance to your sect. If this second forging can be replicated, this could be the advantage we need to turn the tide against the dakii. Just as a dual-forging is more than one type of magic, this problem concerns more than just one sect.”

Each element had its own sect, but she had no idea there was contention between them and the different parts of the conclave. Weren’t they supposed to be the bridge that connected them all?

Scholar Alar crossed his arms, unimpressed. Ignoring his superior, the Scholar walked toward Iryana, his robe swirling around his large steps. Iryana straightened, bracing herself, as he stopped not even an arm’s length from her.

“When you were forged—the second time, how did it feel?” His words were overly enunciated, his presence heavy.

“It felt wrong,” she admitted, aiming for a polite tone despite her discomfort. “But the magic was willing to bond with me, though it was certainly a painful process.”