“A few days passed since we went training. I’ve spent the last few days focusing on gathering ether both by meditation and by combat. The others seem to be progressing decently well too.” Rielle thinks.

Rielle and Maira were walking through town with a towel on their necks after finishing their morning training. Instead of her usual green dress, Maira wore a long white tee shirt with dark leggings with a pair of black slip-on shoes. On the walk back, she spotted someone standing in front of her house.

“Who is that?” Maira questions.

“No idea,” Rielle replies.

“Maira, detective extraordinaire is on the case!” She exclaims, using her fingers to mimic the shape of a monocle.

The person had short black hair and wore a white brocade doublet and a pair of linen trousers. He knocked at her door, and upon hearing nothing from the inside, looked around. He sighed and slumped his shoulders before walking down the stairs. 

“Hello, did you need something?” Rielle asks. 

“Hi, by any chance are you the owner of this house?” He asks.

“That would be me,” Rielle states.

“Wonderful! My name is Trevor and I’ve heard that you’re a witch.” He whispers.

Rielle looks taken aback by his words.

“How did you know?” She asks.

“The children on the block often talk of a woman that can shoot spells and has a witch’s hat and staff.” He explains.

“Well, yeah. That would be me.” She states.

“I guess the witch’s hat is a dead giveaway. Although it’s not like I’m hiding it.” She thinks.

“The truth is I want to propose to my lover, but to do that, I would need a ring. But I didn’t want to get her just any ring. Something special.” He says.

“Right…” She says.

“Is there anything you could do with your witch magic to make it happen?” He says.

Rielle sighs.
“How long have you two been together?” She asks.

“It’s been about 200 years.” He says.

“Two HUNDRED?!” Maira questions.

He pats the back of his head and smiles.

“We were moving at our own pace.” He states.

“So for this request what did you want it made out of?” She asks.

He reaches into the pouch on his waist and pulls out a bar of black material.

“It’s a special alloy. That’s passed to each member of the family.” He states.

“Then why not go to a smith?” Maira asks.

“Because that’s a magical metal,” Rielle states. “Only a Witchsmith can forge that.”

“That’s right.” He says. “Then that makes this easy. Could you forge this into the rings?”

Rielle appears to be lost in thought, staring into that deeply dark bar.

“Earth to Elle!” Maira states.

“Huh? Oh sorry, I could but it’s not gonna be cheap.” Rielle says.

“That’s fine with me. I’ll pay however much it costs.” He says.

“Then, 300sc should cover it.” She says as he hands her the metal.

It nearly weighs her hand down as she grabs it.

“I’ll handle the money!” He shouts as he runs off down the block. “I’ll need it in three days!’

They watch as the man runs off down the block and then stares at one another.

“Well, as much as I’d like to hang out, I’ve got laundry to do.” She groans. “Good luck with the rings!”

Maira jogs off down the street back to her own house. Rielle decides to enter her own home and lays the bar down on her desk, then leans against the wall.

“Witchsmithing…? It’s been more than a few hundred years since I did that.” She states. “I may need a bit of a refresher,” Rielle states.

She walks into her bedroom and lays down on the bed, allowing herself to get as comfortable as possible, her entire body begins to glow with ether and her mind begins to darken. The darkness of her mind begins to glow from a small seed of light. The seed begins expanding until it becomes Rielle’s body veiled in colorful light. Before her, various scenes, scents, locales, and people began to appear as slides within her mind. A large collection of memories is stored within Rielle’s hippocampus like sacred treasures. They continue to float past her revealing many moments of her past. Memories of Mikhail, Erica, Maira, and Artorius. But Rielle kept going. Farther back, far earlier than all of those. A small girl dressed in a dingy white dress stood before a mirror covered in soot, like the rest of the area around the house. Rielle smiles fondly as a woman walks into the room catching sight of it covered in soot.

“This one,” Rielle states.

She touches the memory and is veiled in light before opening her eyes to the mirror. Her hands touch her small face as she makes an expression of worry. Her brows crease as she looks around the room, her uncertainty only growing stronger by the moment. The smell of smoke filled the air and even her silken white dress and red hair were stained black.

“She’ll be so mad!” The girl exclaims.

“Rielle! Are you playing in my cauldron again?” A shout comes from downstairs.

“N-no Mom!” She exclaims.

Rielle looks around frantically and finds a rag on the table, then uses it to start wiping up the soot off the misshapen wooden boards. Then she wipes the mirror but ends up smearing the soot all over the mirror.

“I knew I’d find you playing with my cauldron.” She says. “What did I tell you about cauldrons?”

“That they’re magical tools…” Rielle begins.

“Not for…” Her mother continues.

“Playing,” Rielle says.

“Good. Once you’ve finished cleaning, come downstairs.” She says.

Rielle spends time wiping down the entire study, making sure not to touch any more of the tools in the room, then finally wiping down the desk and noticing the photo on the desk. A portrait of her mother and father hand in hand. Her father with his flowing red hair and her mother’s white hair. There’s a small note on the painting that reads, 

“To my beloved, Riyali.” 

Rielle stared at the painting before remembering what her mother had said. She hurried down the stairs and walked into the workshop. Her mother was wearing a sleeveless shirt with a brown apron over it. In one hand she was holding a glowing hammer with a rounded face, that was segmented in multiple hexagonal shapes. Her muscles bulged as she stopped her swing, upon seeing her daughter.

“Mom, what was dad like?” Rielle asks.

“He was… unique.” She slams her hammer down on the workbench to her side. “He wasn’t a man of many words, but every time he spoke it was some of the stupidest stuff I’d ever heard, but… It was funny. Every time he opened his mouth he made me laugh. He always knew what to do in an emergency, and above all, he loved us as much as the sun lights up the sky.” She states.

“Do you miss him?” Rielle asks innocently.

“Everyday.” She states.

After her question, Riyali picks up Rielle and sets her down on the adjacent counter. She watches as her mother hammers away at the metal before her.

“How does that work?” Rielle asks.

“You see, this is a special metal that can only be heated enough with magical flames,” Riyali explains. “By melting it down, I can use my ether to shape it however I want. Each strike with my hammer brings it to my ideal form, but if my focus wanes, then so does its quality.”

“When will I be able to use magic?” Rielle asks.

“I’m not sure, baby. But I’m sure it’ll be soon. Once you do, I’ll teach you everything I know!” Riyali states with a smile.

“I can’t wait!” Rielle exclaims.

Her voice echoes ruffling the fabric of reality itself tearing apart the very scene before herself as she is now left within the endless dark space. She looks down at her prismatic hand and closes her hands, before waking up in her bed again.

“I wonder where she is.” Rielle thinks. “Is my dad here too?”

Rielle ponders what her mother told her over and over again before leaving her bed behind and heading into the workshop. She forms a hammer out of ice, mimicking the shape of her mother’s hammer, identically. Then, she freezes part of the desk making enough space for her to do what she needs to. Her left hand begins glowing with an infernal heat producing a bright reddish-white light. She grabs the metal and watches as it melts within her hand. She allows the formless mass to slip through her fingers and land on the frozen desk, yet it doesn’t melt through the ice. Rielle closes her eyes to maintain an image of two wedding bands. She hammers into the metal over and over. Each slam brings it closer to the shape in her head.

Bang! Bang!

She stops to wipe the sweat from her head and notices the shape is a little off.

“I guess I need to be a bit more accurate with the amount of ether I’m using.” She states.

She continues the process, once more, banging the rings into shape. After a few hours of refining the shape and all the minor details, it’s complete. A pair of rings with an engravement on their inner sides that reads

“Love for an eternity more.”