Page 227 of Emylia

The truth of it would only reveal itself once the metal had been poured—after fire kissed it and water claimed it–molding, then tempering the precious blackened silver into rings: hardened, perfect, and forged in purpose.

Until then, it was a promise in waiting.

I turned to the second piece. My pulse thundered but I didn’t hesitate. Again, I summoned the earth. Again, it answered.

My fingers trembled—not with fear, but with anticipation. With power humming just beneath my skin, ready to be shaped into meaning.

The clay writhed, responding faster this time—like it recognized its twin. Like it remembered being shaped in my hands. When it stilled, a second cylinder rested before me.

Identical in shape. But not in purpose.

Because I knew what I’d carved into them.

Knew that no matter how similar they looked from the outside, what waited inside was wildly, irrevocably different.

One carved in fire.

The other in ash.

Both born from me.

Each one carried a piece of my soul. Of who they were to me. And when they finally held those rings in their hands—there’d be no question who they belonged to.

They were more than molds.

They were declarations.

Of what I felt.

Without question.

Without doubt.

They’d know they were mine.

I stood alone, sleeves rolled to my elbows, soot clinging to my hands. The silver bowl in front of me shimmered with molten metal—the remains of the bracelet my father had once given me. The one that used to sit on my left wrist, before everything fell apart.

A gift for Sebastian.

And one for Maalikai.

From brokenness, something new. Two rings. One heart torn down the middle.

Before I could start, the sound of the door creaked open behind me. I spun–catching Evie in the doorway.

“I wasn’t sure you’d actually show.”

She gave me a look–flat, disbelieving. “I’m the one who gave Maalikai the damn drink. I’m way too entangled in this mess to bail now.”

My smile twisted into something wicked. “Welcome to the dark side.”

“So, what do you want me to do?”

“Pull up a seat and watch a master at work.”

She rolled her eyes, but did as I said.

Red tinged the charcoal, glowing at the edges like smoldering wrath. Heat bled from the forge in slow, pulsing waves, the air thick with it—sweat beading on my forehead before I’d even stepped closer.

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