Maxime Armstrong. The man who knows no wrong.

I don’t personally love the title, but they call me that due to my status. My family was lucky enough to be part of the founding few—helped lay the first stones, even helped name Eldenridge—and I’ve never taken it for granted. I truly believe this land was a gift from nature. A blessing, if you’re one to use that word.

We live in one of the stronger boomtowns: Highwater. Known for its golden fields, deep roots, and the highest concentration of card skin this side of the Divide. Card skin is what’s used to forge every family’s deck—unique as fingerprints, passed down like blood. Everyone gets one, no matter rich or poor. We all inherit ours on our twenty-first birthday.

Which is today.

Today, I’ll receive the Armstrong deck—handed down from my father, as it was from his father, and so on. Along with that, I’ll get my birth card—forged from my own blood, bonded to the card skin. It’s a sacred thing, even if it sounds like a parlor tale to outsiders.

Our family’s cards have always been for the good of others.

My father’s card, Verdant Oath, increases fertility in nearby crops—he never sets foot in a field, but everything he walks past grows greener. His father’s card was Safe Passage—it gave protection to anyone traveling under our crest, and made the roads safer when the towns were still young.

I don’t know what my card will be.

But I hope—gods help me—I hope it’s something useful. Something kind.

Today’s my birthday, but I didn’t want to spend the morning with my family.

Not because I don’t love them—I do. But this town… it raised me as much as they did. So I wanted to start my day by walking through it, greeting the people who’ve shaped my life in quieter ways. Sharing a little of our family’s wealth, whether folks need it or not.

I make my way down the dirt road outside our tavern, waving to the regulars who never seem to leave—morning, noon, or night. One of them calls out, “Hey Maxime, are you excited to get your card today?”

I nod, but my voice doesn’t carry the confidence I wish it did. “It’s something I’ve wanted since I was a boy… so I believe so.”

They laugh and raise their mugs. I smile, push through the swinging doors, and step back out into the light.

Across the street, a few of our neighbors sit out front, gossiping like they always do as the sun rises over the rooftops. I wave, and they wave back.

The town feels warm today. Honest. Like it always does.

I cut down toward the mines, hoping to lend a hand to the drillmen before the ceremony. I dodge a pile of horse dung in the street—can’t scuff the boots today—and step carefully across the loose gravel near the entrance.

Just as I cross the threshold, the sandstorm alarms blare.

Not a problem—just another storm rolling in from the red deserts. Happens most weeks. I pull my white bandana up over my mouth and nose. The wind’s already starting to rise.

I look over my shoulder at the town. The rising sun has painted the rooftops gold.

As I move deeper into the cave, I finally reach the bottom—and the drillmen cheer.

“Aye! There’s the man of the day—Maxime!”

I grin and wave them off. “Y’all need help today?”

One of them steps forward, brushing dust from his coat. “We do, actually. Found a strange patch this morning—nothing like the usual bronze, silver, or gold skins. This one’s… almost zinc-colored. Hard as hell. Probably the toughest piece of card skin we’ve ever dug up.”

He hands me a pickaxe, its handle wrapped in gold-lined card skin—a tool forged for strength. We use skins for more than cards around here. Tools. Cables. Even shielding on the rail rigs. But everyone knows their strongest attribute… is in the cards.

I rear my arms back, steadying my breath—and swing.

The pickaxe bounces off, but not without leaving a mark.

The drillmen whistle behind me.

I swing again. And again. Each strike warps the surface a little more until I finally see it: a crack.

I grit my teeth and put everything into the last swing.

The sound that follows isn’t right. It’s not a crack, not a shatter. It’s a ringing—like metal screaming under pressure, echoing far longer than it should.

Then—crunch.

A chunk of the skin drops to the ground by my feet. Beneath the zinc… is another color.

Crimson. Deep. Vivid.

Like blood under glass.

No skin like this has ever been seen before. It’s almost scary—how new it is. How wrong it feels.

The miners give me a round of applause, their cheers echoing off the stone walls.

“Hell of a swing, Maxime,” one of them laughs, clapping me on the back. “You gotta use that chunk for your card today. No question about it.”

I shake my head, brushing dust off my coat. “I can’t. It’s not part of our line. The Armstrong deck’s always used gold skin—it’s tradition.”

But they don’t let up.

Another chimes in, holding the shard up to the light. “Come on now, you said it yourself—today’s your day. And that skin came from your hands. That wasn't by chance, Max. That was meant.”

“Wouldn’t you be curious?” another says, grinning. “See what kind of card a piece like that makes?”

I hesitate, eyes drifting down to the shard by my boots.

It has a sheen to it—not metallic, not quite. Like it’s alive. Like it’s watching.

I crouch slowly and run a thumb along the edge.

It’s warm.

I stare at the shard a moment longer, then tuck it into the cloth satchel at my side.

The miners cheer again as I hand the pickaxe back and wipe the dust from my palms. I offer a few nods, a half-smile, and start the climb back up, boots crunching against the grit.

No one follows.

By the time I reach the mouth of the mine, the storm has rolled in heavy. The sun is long gone behind the red haze. Wind howls through the wooden beams, dragging sand across the ground in long, whispering streaks.

I pull my white bandana up over my face again. Tie it tight.

For a moment, I just stand there, staring into the storm.

The world is blurred.

Muted.

Heavy.

I step forward.

The sand pushes against me like a warning.

Worse than normal.

But I keep walking.

Card skin in my satchel.

Questions in my chest.

And a strange warmth is still pulsing in my palm.