Hineni hammers away in the forge, finishing up his work on the short-sword. It’s the next day and he had spent his entire night not sleeping. His work is the only thing that feels like it will calm him down now and he focuses with all of his efforts on it, doing his best never to lift his head and to look up towards the window. Because he is sure that if he does, that the owl will be there.

As it should be. It’s where he left it, after all.

After a night of consideration, he doesn’t think that someone is messing with him anymore. Hineni hammers away, striking the metal into shape over and over, his wide eyes staring at the sparks that fly out like fairies through a midnight wood.

His mother had seen things too, though she had only begun to do so when she was older. He remembers the talks that she and his father would have the morning after he had caught her and wrangled her back home, after she had spent the night running away from demons and fae that didn’t really exist.

The sickness runs in the blood. His mother had it, his grandmother had it. He had always assumed that it reaching him was a possibility, but he had never thought that it would happen so early.

Maybe it was only mild though. Maybe, if he keeps his wits and lives a healthy life, he can stave it off for a time. He doesn’t want to see fairies, he doesn’t want to see demons and right now, he doesn’t want to see the owl either. He just wants to make a sword. Something pragmatic, something real, something physical.

The strike of the hammer shines out again.

Iron is a good metal for making things like this, simple beginners-weapons for adventurers. Copper, bronze, tin all had their uses for different things. Armor and trinkets and the like. But he likes making weapons and for that, out of the cheap metals he has access to, iron is the best suited.

Sure, there are more powerful ores. Rare ores from the deep depths of the dungeons or from far away, exotic places.

But, no matter where you go in the world, no matter what city you reside in, iron is the metal that makes the blade of every adventurer’s first sword. Except for those kooky elves in the south. Hineni shakes his head. They use wooden weapons. Still, iron is good. It holds its shape well, it takes a lot of punishment, damages are easily repaired, blades are easily resharpened, it’s durable enough, cheap and abundant; the bread and butter of metals.

Usually making a sword like this would take him a little longer, but he has a few short-sword blades at the ready. The only custom part of the order was that the anonymous customer wanted a longer and fatter handle without a pommel, for whatever reason. But it isn’t his business.

Usually, he does everything by hand. But handles… well, he hates doing them. It’s too finicky, getting the measurements right. There’s always the risk of it being lumpy and uneven and then the whole sword would feel like shit. No, for things like this, things he doesn’t enjoy doing, he uses his blacksmithing abilities.

Holding his hand above the rectangular bit of metal that he had hammered into roughly the size he needed it to be, Hineni focuses, feeling the rising heat scorch his calloused and burnt finger-tips.

(Hineni) uses: [Blacksmithing{Hilt(XL)}]

The glowing metal rises up a few inches off of the anvil and then falls back down a second later, having taken a new shape.

- [Iron Hilt{XL}] - - Quality -

Normal - Composition - Iron: 79% Silicia: 2% Alumina: 10% Calcium: 3% Magnesium: 4% Impurities: 2% - Quality Effects -

“Chosen of the owl-god”

Adds additional attributes to the attached weapon

An extra large, iron hilt meant for a sword. It is perfectly smooth. Magical energies seem to reside inside of the metal. ‘Made by weaponsmith Hineni - Chosen of the Owl God’ No pommel attached. Weight: 0.1kg Value: 08 Obols

Hineni stops, his blood freezing cold as he stares at the window with wide, tormented eyes and reads the signature on the item. His vision shoots down towards the piece of metal. Without thinking, he grabs it, screaming a second later and dropping it at his feet. He recoils and shakes out his, now deeply burnt, hand. The metal grip rolls across the stones.

(Hineni) takes: [Burn Damage {9}] - [Fire Resistance {3}] ! (Hineni) receives: [Burn Damage {6}] ! [HP: 33/39]

“FUCK!” he curses, holding his wrist with his other hand as he looks at the deep burn. He bites his teeth down, letting out a muffled, but clearly pained scream. He won’t be able to use this hand for a week at least. The man paces, walking in a frantic circle as he continues to shake his hand while swearing his heart out. Tonight is clearly not his night.

Hineni comes to a stop, leaning back against the wall and slides down it, in order to just sit and breathe for a second, his wrist still held tightly in his grasp. He stares down at the hilt with damp eyes and even from here, he can see the engraving on it, rounding the curvature of the metal.

‘Made by weaponsmith Hineni - Chosen of the Owl God’

Great.

Just great, thinks Hineni. His mother saw demons and fairies and what does he get?

Owls.

He lets his head knock back against the wall as he gives up, unable to fight it any longer. This is his life now, he supposes. He’s going to be the weird, reclusive ‘owl guy’ forever, starting today, apparently. He lifts his eyes, looking for the inevitable silhouette of the owl statue, staring down at him from a place it doesn’t belong at. He should have never made that damn thing. He should have never gone back to that part of the forest.

“Three,” says a voice, ringing out of the darkness. Hineni, bewildered, stares at the shadowy silhouette of something person-like, which sits on top of the ledge, high up by the windows. Their barefooted legs dangle downward, as they look around the forge. A hand is under their shadowy hood, against their chin as they look around the room from above. It seems as if they were deeply perplexed by something. “Who? Three.”

Hineni jumps to his feet at the sight of the intruder in his forge. But rather than yelling at them, rather than grabbing a weapon or asking them any questions as to their strange nature, ignoring their apparent ability to climb, the first thing he does is bolt over towards the door to grab his scarf.

Just as his fingers touch the fabric, a head hangs before him, upside-down, right in front of his face. Two, wide, yellow eyes stare at him from only a foot away. They shine out of the shadows from beneath the upside-down intruder’s tawny, brown hood with an unnatural glow.

“Three?” it asks, tilting its head.

Hineni tears the scarf off of the rack as he falls backwards in surprise and lands on his bottom. His burnt hand scrapes along the stones and leaves a bloody smear, sending a new wave of familiar pain up through his body. “Who are you?! Get out of my home!” yells Hineni, covering his face right away. But the person isn’t there anymore and he doesn’t even know how they could have been there to begin with. To be there, they would have to have been suspended in mid-air. Frantically, he scrambles and looks around the workshop. Firelight burns in the forge and the roaring sound of the controlled blaze is the only noise that fills the space, apart from his frantic heartbeat and raspy, fearful breaths.

It’s just a vision. It’s not real. It’s not real, he reminds himself, trying to steady his breathing. It’s happening far faster than he had anticipated. Like with the snap of a finger, his mind had apparently simply shifted.

“All good things come in threes,” says the voice into his ear. Hineni spins around, jumping back to his feet. But there is nobody there. “Who?” rings the voice from behind him once more. “Who~?” it asks again, in a tone that is more sing-song now. Every time he turns to the origin of the word, there is nothing there, save for the flicker of fire-glow or a flurry of moving fabric, leaving his vision and vanishing into the dark shadows in the corners of the forge.

He needs to calm himself down. He’s going to get hurt, realizes Hineni. If he runs around the forge like a raving lunatic, something will go wrong, fast. Breathe. Breathe. It’s just a vision. He thinks he understands now. If his mother saw things like this, then he can understand her ‘episodes’ in a much clearer context. It seems so real.

The man closes his eyes, feeling the pulsating ache running up his ruined hand. Apart from the throbbing sensation, the ligaments of his fingers are entirely numb with a tingling buzz. He breathes in and out, slowly. One. Then again. Two. He feels his shoulders losing their tension. But before he can take his next exhalation, his breath stops in his lungs for a second. He forces it out.

Three.

Hineni opens his eyes and immediately tenses up again, staring at the thing which is carefully holding his burnt hand with its sharp fingers on either side of it, examining the wound.

“Who~ visited me three times and called for me?” it asks. “Hi-” it says, pronouncing the word like the start of his name.

“Who~ did I visit three times?” it asks, tracing a finger along the outer edge of his palm. “Ne-” it adds on.

“Who~ have I exchanged three gifts with?” it asks. “-Ni!”

Hineni can feel his heart racing in his chest, he’s terrified. He’s not a fighter and even if he was, he can’t box away a hallucination. But even if he wanted to, even if he had the drive to fight, he can’t. He’s frozen entirely in place. Not by any spell or enchantment, but rather by his own bewilderment. He doesn’t know what to do, what to think. So instead, he just stares.

“Hineni! Hineni! Hineni!” chants the figment of his clearly breaking mind in an oddly muted, but giddy voice, as it sways from side to side on its bare half-human feet with long talons at the end, standing in the smear of blood that he had left behind on the stones. The fabric of its hood bounces from side to side, revealing the sharp human face beneath the hood with very strong, short, birdlike features. “Who hooo~” it calls out into the night. Its tone never rises to any high pitches, rather, even their chipper voice seems to be restrained and muffled.

The finger runs along the bleeding surface of his open palm, tracing a pattern into the open wound and the man flinches, seeing them trace the number ‘three’ into his wound with their fingernail.

Pulling back, his waking mind finally getting some control of his body again, Hineni steps away.

“You’re not real! Leave me alone!” shouts Hineni.

“Whooo~” hoots the owl creature, having vanished into the darkness in that single second that he had looked away.

“Hineni! Hineni! Hineni!” it chants into his ear in its muffled, quiet ‘night voice’. He spins around, hearing the ruffle of feathers behind him once more. The thing clutches his wounded hand firmly at the wrist a second time, with both of its smaller hands and presses his bloody, burnt, open palm against the fabric of the robe over its chest.

“Who~ feels me?” it asks. Hineni feels the ache, but not his fingers. He does however see the rising of them, as the creature’s chest beats outward from the strong striking of its heart. It feels very real. Once. Twice. Three times. “Who~ touches me?” it asks, its wide, haunting, yellow eyes that stare up at him, as it wraps its taloned human-fingers tighter and tighter around his wrist, in a manner that he almost feels is curiously-threatening.

Hineni, breaking free from the fearful spell binding him in place, not knowing what else to do at this point, answers.

“Hineni…”

Its hooded head sways from side to side with each syllable. “Wea- Pon- Smith- Hi- Ne- Ni-!” it counts up, in a chipper tone. “One. Two. Three! One. Two. Three!”

He doesn’t know what to say, in all honesty. His mind is still fighting with his thoughts of delirium and the pain of his wound. “Is he shy?” asks the owl-thing. “He visited me three times. I visited him three times,” it explains. “Three visits!” it hoots. “Three!” it says. “He gave me meat. I gave him meat! He gave me tribute,” it hoots. “Three gifts have been exchanged. Three!” The creature lifts his hand off of its chest, Hineni winces and watches in horror as it pulls it into his hood. A moment later, he feels something move against his bleeding wound. A tongue.

“The courtship is complete. Our covenant is true, Hi- ne- ni! I accept you as mine. Who hoo hooo~!” hoots the creature, wobbling around as if deeply embarrassed.

“The what now?” asks Hineni, blinking as the window appears next to him.

[Engagement Proposal] : {Accepted} !

A loud ruffling of feathers explodes from a foot away. But in that instant as he reopens his eyes and looks back, he sees nothing there, save for his own outstretched arm, his bloody hand grasping only empty air.