The Knight Who Breathed Fire

THREE | iii.

Dedicated to @flawed-because she was one of the true faiths meant to believe in.

[ THIS WAS MY favourite chapter to write. Enjoy the conflict! ]

THREE | Her Fire Turns Iron Into Nyx Steel 

SHE WIELDS A SWORD AS an alchemist wields iron into gold; magic spewing from her fingertips in a realm mortals could only wish to mimic, giving her the fluid power of possibilities.

Weighing the fresh new blade around in her hands, her ragged gloves protecting her little from the heat emanating from the sword her father transformed, she tests the handle.

"X'ash," she swears instantly, reflexes helping her catch the blade before she dropped it. "Uh, papi, you accidentally left a huge chunk of granite on the left of the handle. Just so you know."

The blacksmith shop she has grown up in, Nyx Steel, is a quaint but fairly spacious establishment. It is also the only one in practically most of the kingdom of Luxon, a proud fact to the Nyx family. A reverent and proud heritage, Maya is almost a little disappointed that, even as the eldest, her career brought her to the path of the buyer rather than the seller of the business.

Ash coloured walls are filled with an assortment of different metal creations, and the entire area would give off an almost gothic aura if it weren't for the colourful potteries her mother hand-painted on every corner. It is a mixture of the night before the sunrise and the horizon blooming with colour.

To her, it is another home (because home is supposed to be an outward reflection of your personality and there is nothing that can sum her up better than her family's legacy).

An arch in the back of the shop is lit with ember as the transition from a bulk of metal to a blade occurs. "Which one is that?" Maya watches as the sparks fade into the air as her father pops his own head out from the room, a scowl below his mask. "Dammit, no wonder, that's not my craftsmanship. Kai! Come here, you little nuisance."

Maya bites her lip as the sixteen year old apprentice appears from the storage room adjacent the one she is in. There is nothing more amusing to her then when the little, egotistical boy gets a scolding.

(Especially because the twat hit on her for a solid two weeks before she threatened to slash down on his own tiny "sword". He caught her drift after one deliberately close encounter to a metal machine and her impatient arm).

After offering her father the incomplete sword, she wanders around the storage room for any new arrivals. While she often dedicates every spare moment of hers to training, it is usually in the courtyard. Even if the place is not hers to inherit (her little sister is excited to incorporate pottery, much to their father's dismay and mother's glee), she spends most of her morning's and afternoon's helping out.

Finding a large box with huge bars of copper and aluminum, Maya rolls up her sleeves and begins to place them on the wooden shelves. They're heavier than she anticipated, and her wrists begin to hurt from the strain.

A sharp sting in her chest makes her wince, and quickly has her dropping a bar as her hands snap to the area above her heart. Quickly pulling down the side of her button tunic, she places her cool hand to the new burn occurring in the area.

"Maya?" She hears her father call from the other room, hastily covering up her chest. "Kid, where are you?"

"In the back, papi!" she replies, ignoring the growing pain in her bust. "Putting away the material."