Cane stared at the two long tables flanking the dining hall. A third table—broader, crowded with platters and bowls—ran down the center like a river of food.
"So this is the dining facility?" he asked, glancing at his companions: Fergis, Dhalia, and Clara.
Clara's head whipped around. Her freckled face scrunched in disbelief. "You've never been here? Not once?"
Cane shook his head and followed their lead toward the central table. "Sofie usually brings me meals."
"Oh boy," Clara said, wagging a finger at him. "That girl has spoiled you."
Cane only nodded, offering no argument.
Most of the benches were packed, but they managed to squeeze onto a narrow stretch near an open window. The breeze carried the scent of stew, fresh bread, and magic.
"Food's good here," Fergis noted, settling in. "Gets a little noisy."
No sooner had their trays hit the table than a voice rang out from further down.
"I'm afraid there's a rule against two gingers sitting at the same table."
Clara rolled up her sleeves without hesitation. "There a rule against bleeding all over yourself?"
"Junior," Dhalia murmured, leaning closer. "Fire user. Griften."
Fergis rested a calming hand on Clara's arm, shaking his head. Griften had a reputation—he only started trouble when instructors were nearby, counting on the shield of supervision.
The only problem was... Fergis didn't care.
A compact flame burst from Fergis's hand, slamming into Griften's chest. The older student flew backward into the buffet table, scattering dishes and catching his robe on fire.
A second student—larger, clearly backup—leapt from the bench, charging Fergis from behind.
He made it one step before a hand clamped down on his shoulder. There was a brief pause, a shift of weight—and then Cane casually hurled him out the open window like tossing a sack of flour.
Silence rippled through the hall.
Dhalia and Clara froze, mid-bite.
Cane and Fergis sat down as if nothing had happened. Fergis took a slow sip of soup.
"See?" he said, exhaling. "Noisy."
The remainder of Cane's first breakfast at the dining facility passed without further incident. Griften had tried to report the fireball and window toss, but the attending instructor had taken one look at the culprits—students from Tower Seven—and shut it down with a tired sigh. Archmage Telamon himself had assigned those rooms. Unless someone lost a limb, no one was going to get involved.
"Thanks for breakfast," Cane said as the group filtered out half an hour later.
Fergis waved lazily and wandered off with Clara in tow. Dhalia lingered beside Cane, clutching a small vial filled with seawater that shimmered faintly with blue light.
"I'm really nervous," she admitted, tightening her grip around the vial. "This is my essence... I don't want to mess it up."
"Don't be," Cane said calmly. "I had a chance to study a high-end healing focal recently. Sketched out the entire design. You'll be fine."
Dhalia's eyes widened. "High-end? What was the material?"
"Mithril," Cane replied.
She froze mid-stride. "Mithril? Was she a princess or something?"
"Or something," Cane chuckled. Neri was part of the Azure Court—if it still existed.
They resumed walking.
"What are you using for the casing?" he asked.
"Black silver," Dhalia replied. "You said it's transferable? In case I want to upgrade later?"
"It is—if I construct the focal myself," Cane said. "You'll pass me your essence-infused water. I'll embed it, layer the runes, and since we're friends, I'll even add a replicator rune."
"Replicator rune?" she blinked. "What's that do?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. Boosts the efficiency and range of the primary rune—in this case, healing—by two or three times."
Dhalia bit her lip. "That sounds... expensive."
"Repairing one? About two platinum. But if you're talking full creation—infusion, casing, personal runework... easily a hundred platinum."
She wiped her forehead, looking suddenly pale. "Am I being selfish taking this from you?"
Cane shook his head. "No. It only costs me time and effort, and you'll be keeping us alive when we start missions. You'll be crucial."
Dhalia smiled, touched. "Okay."
"Cane!"
They had just entered the forge wing when Brammel's gravelly voice echoed from across the room.
"I heard you created an ice essence! Let me see it!"
Cane pulled the vial of glacial essence from his satchel and handed it over. Inside, the water swirled with threads of frozen memory—still, potent, and blue.
"I need some black silver," Cane said. "I'm building a healer's focal for Dhalia. She just finished her infusion."
"I heard. Nicely done." Brammel turned the vial in the light, his eyes narrowing in admiration. "Real glacial alignment. Strong, but controlled. You planning to use it in a hammer?"
"That's the idea," Cane said. "I've got some adamantium, but I'm not sure that's the right call."
"It's not," Brammel grunted. "Save that for something that needs toughness. You want something with ice compatibility. Runes aren't pounded in—they're coaxed. You need something that sings to frost."
"What do you recommend?"
"Dwarf silver," Brammel replied immediately. "Extremely pure, high-conductive silver. Holds cold enchantments like a mountain holds snow."
Cane nodded thoughtfully. "And the hammer?"
"Two pounds. Finishing hammer. Precision matters more than force here." Brammel tapped his knuckles on a nearby workbench. "Bigger doesn't mean better when it comes to coaxing runes."
"I wouldn't have considered that," Cane admitted.
Brammel grinned. "Just so happens I've got a silver hammer in that exact weight. Tell you what—I'll prep the hammer and toss in some high-grade black silver. You focus on the healing focal."
He held out a thick-fingered hand.
Cane laughed, shaking it. "Let's get to work."
Dhalia watched in awe as Cane held the twelve-inch bar of black silver in his hands. He closed his eyes, and the metal responded like clay in a child's fingers—yielding to his will, shaping itself without heat or hammer.
"Try this," Cane said, passing her the base device. He waited as she slipped it over her hand.
She flexed her fingers. "The palm plate's a bit snug," she murmured. "Could I get a little reinforcement here? My hands are long—it feels like it might twist."
"Absolutely," Cane replied, already guiding the metal with subtle shifts. The plate adjusted, smoothing out along the ridges of her hand and forearm, matching her unique shape.
"It's beautiful," Dhalia whispered, admiring the smooth, mirror-like finish. "Even without the runes or water... it looks like jewelry." She extended her hand, fingers splayed. "Is this where the chamber is?"
"Yes," Cane said. He retrieved her vial of infused seawater and closed his eyes again, willing the silver to part. The metal obeyed, forming a small, sealed chamber to house the glowing essence.
"Second part's done?" she asked softly, biting her lip. "Am I distracting you?"
Cane smiled without opening his eyes. "Not at all. But before I start the runes, there's something I should tell you."
Dhalia stiffened slightly. "What is it?"
"When I etch the primary rune, the ones tied to your essence... I'll see your memories."
She blinked. "That always happens? Even if someone else made it?"
"Always," Cane confirmed. "The process links memory to matter. Doesn't matter who's doing the crafting."
Dhalia hesitated, then nodded. "Then I'm glad it's you. I'd rather a friend see them than a stranger."
Cane's smile widened. "Good girl."
He placed both hands on the focal, fingers spread across the palm plate, and let his consciousness sink into the metal.
The darkness of the black silver folded around his awareness. Layer by layer, he deconstructed the device—sifting it into a hundred delicate strata, like pages in a book. At the center, he began forming concentric circles, radiating outward from the contact point where hand met tool. Each layer carried its own rune, its own purpose—together, they formed the bridge between Dhalia's essence water and the device's functionality.
Finally, he turned his focus to the water.
It was familiar—Northern Sea water, like his own glacial essence—and their resonance helped him slip easily into its current. The memories emerged slowly at first. Two young girls, splashing in a tide pool, giggling as they sprayed each other with salt water. Their mother watched from nearby, smiling.
He recognized Dhalia instantly, even though the girls were identical. There was something in her eyes—focused, protective. A bond between twins, deep and bright as any rune.
He forged carefully, weaving those feelings into the design—building a conduit between the catalyst runes, the infused water, and the silver casing. When the core structure was complete, he added a simplified version of Nos's replicator rune—one that would amplify her output and echo her strength outward.
With a final breath, Cane withdrew his awareness.
Light burst into the room. He blinked once, then again—the focal device now gleamed like a star, brilliant and pulsing. Heads turned across the forge.
"Yeah... that's bright," Cane muttered, waiting for the spots in his vision to fade.
When they did, he handed the device back to Dhalia.
She took it in silence, slipping it onto her hand. As it settled into place, she gasped—eyes wide, mouth parted. A pulse of warmth surged through her, not just from the runes, but from the water itself. Her own memories responded—calling up joy, pain, and something else: power. A quiet, confident strength she hadn't known was there.
"Cane..." she whispered.
He didn't answer. She stepped forward and hugged him tightly, catching him off guard.
Cane hugged her back, resting a hand lightly on her shoulder. He didn't mention the memories, didn't speak of what he saw. Those were hers.
He'd only ever bring them up if she asked.