Forging is art. All art has a mechanical process, but finding the shape within and giving your item a spirit is something you cannot learn. Until you rip open your chest, expose your soul, and put that into your work, you’ll never be more than mediocre.

~Goibniu, The God of the Forge and Brew

Unable to sleep that night, Crow went out to the courtyard, which had new landscaping once more. Focusing on his Qi Gong, he let the rhythm of the action lull him into a semi-awake state. Hours later, he noticed the Song sisters were already next to him.

Next, they worked with him on how to cultivate and create the channels for the next chakra. It was slow work, and Crow immediately understood why it’d take time. They also gave him guidance on strengthening and reaching an equilibrium with the root chakra’s meridians. The path was formed, but it was rough, and he had to smooth it out and perfect the mirrored loops from the right and left sides of his body. Achieving that balance would allow him to cultivate subconsciously, almost like breathing.

After that, he went to work. Today he left the inner city and work at the stables. He would have typically had to do this to groom an Elkan beast, but with his Source all messed up, he lacked the power to form a soul bond contract. Beast contracts existed that could force the bond, but the Maddox clan forbade any of their people from using one.

Later that evening, he read a book that the Librarian recommended. It was about the underworld and some gods related to it. After reading a few chapters, he gave the Librarian a strange look. The book held knowledge about the Wild Hunt, but it did not mention the Sluagh. It had enough information about his recent experiences that it couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Let’s go,” Gavin said after he arrived. Crow climbed out of his soft chair and slid a bookmark into the book before depositing it on a small table. The old man quickly took a drop of Crow’s blood and mixed it with some other substance. He drew another symbol on Crow’s hand with quick, experienced motions, but the emblem this time was that of a hammer. After activating it, the energy flowed through his arm until it arrived at the massive tree on his stomach and chest. A leave glowed, and the golden filigree appeared in the shape of a hammer.

“What does this open?” Crow asked, breaking the long silence between them.

Gavin grinned, “Was wondering how long it’d take you to ask. First, let’s enter the new area, and then we’ll talk.”

Walking toward the tip of the teardrop-shaped room, Gavin pushed open the door, and beyond was a space so massive that it felt like it shouldn’t exist. It had hundreds of stations, all partitioned by roots, but each station was nearly as big as the library. Within each station were private rooms too, but Crow couldn’t see how big those were.

His nearly perfect mind struggled to take it and rationalize the space. He knew that trying to reconcile the size of what it should be to what it was would only give him more headaches. This was spatial tampering. Who was powerful enough to create a place like this?

“I suppose I should share more about our history,” Gavin said, and sat Crow down at a worktable at one of the nearest stations. “The Draoidh were once part of the upper realm’s ruling power. One of thirteen orders belonging to the God’s Eye Council—they literally held their meetings inside the eye of a god. Texts claim that we were once of the top three powers on that council. We were arrogant, but we had a right to be. Our strongest members could create places like these. In the end, it was our bloodline they feared the most, and they brought us down through betrayal and deceit. Not even I know all the details, and maybe nobody alive within the order does. The clans that survived that calamity, like yours, are supposedly direct descendants of those superpowers. If you can trust that information.”

“Why wouldn’t we trust them?”

“Our order didn’t write things down. Druids embedded knowledge into their bloodline, and as far as I know, it’s still there. Only, the purity is diluted, so newer generations cannot access it. Now we record everything. You once wondered why history seems to stop at a certain point. It was probably because the Bard that recorded those histories had a branching bloodline, so lacked that knowledge of anything before that point.”

“So what is this place then?”

“Have you ever heard of Breug Meallta?”

“False Dawn? My father mentioned it once. Said the temple that the Druid Council operates was once called the Temple of the False Dawn.”

“That’s good and bad, he should never have told you that,” Gavin sighed. “Your father is willful as ever. This place is one of False Dawn’s greatest treasures. Breug Meallta was our sect’s name in the upper realm, but never say that or False Dawn outside this room. You must remember that.”

“What does it mean, though?” Crow asked.

“It is the transient light that precedes the rising sun. The ideology isn’t something I fully understand. False Dawn was about deviant cultivators and how they were a power that came before the rising stars—geniuses. They believed that only deviants had the power to defy the heavens. It is true, they are powerful, but few survive their cultivation. A deviant is forced to create their own path. The pride of Breug Mealtta became its shame.”

The curiosity inside Crow was burning to explore, but he held back. Gavin wouldn’t tell him useless things, so he could only wait and hear him out.

Gavin smiled, watching Crow squirm.

“You can call this place the False Dawn Workshop, and there is a reason your grandpa immediately approved your access. Our ancestors discovered that deviants, people like you, are highly suitable for Scholarly Talents. Do you know why, even with our clan in decline, we continue to survive?”

“We are in decline?” Crow had heard this before but never really took it to heart.

“We are. Maddox clan doesn’t have many powerful people anymore. Your father’s ruthlessness is in part to keep the wolves at bay. In the last five hundred years, only Conall, Luthais, and now you have shown any real promise. As one of the few surviving clans from the Druid Order’s fall, we have profound roots. Not to mention, our clan is the richest on the northern continent. If you haven’t figured it out, it is because of this place. Our crafted goods have no equal on this continent. Not even the central continents can compare.”

“Are you trying to tell me that the other clans targeting me aren’t because of some perceived calamity? That is what they told my father when Rulaney sent the White Lady after me.”

“Fated calamities are always suspect, and most clans won’t bother trying to scry them. Rulaney clan might honestly have seen you as their calamity—you are. The question is, would you have been their calamity if they never targeted you? Ironically, we were the first of the original clans on the brink of collapsing, but Rulaney is about to crumble because of their actions. But to answer your question, yes. They are scheming against you to speed up our clan’s demise. Even if each clan only gets ten percent of our holdings, at the very least, they’ll double their income. Does that sound like a tasty pie worth devouring?”

Crow didn’t know what to say. The truth was, he never thought about money all that much. His clan always provided and his world perspective was only now starting to change. It had never really occurred to him until this moment that money was also an avenue to power, one that his clan used to its advantage.

“Okay, enough of that. Those are worries for the older generation. I only want to point out one other thing. Money isn’t our only power—and no, I didn’t read your mind. Scholarly Talents are also power. One talent I am going to insist you learn is formations. With Mana Crystals, you can power formations, and if you have enough people supporting it, the formation can rival powers like your father. Our clan’s holdings are protected by the most powerful formations we have, and no clan rivals them. It is why they don’t crush our ancestral grounds. They’d suffer catastrophic losses if they tried,” Gavin’s sinister laugh caused Crow to chuckle along with him.

“Why do you want me to learn formations?”

“To supplement your power, but mostly because I am going to give you another technique. It is a method to solidify your mana. You’ll use it to create Mana Crystals. After discussing your condition with Song Lin, Luthais, and Mugna, we all believe that one way you can overcome the curse is to harden yourself to it. Create enough Mana Crystals of high purity, and you’ll be a rich man in the tower. Formations will give you another way to fight back.”

“Okay,” Crow frowned and looked around the room regretfully.

“Hah, I know that look,” Gavin laughed. “You can choose another talent to learn. Call it an elective. However, while you are down here, you need to focus at least half your time on formations—nonnegotiable. Now, let me explain how it works. Each station is clearly marked off by a formation ring. You can see them on the ground. That formation is a sound barrier and a restriction. Do not take anything belonging to the station away, or you’ll get a nasty shock.”

“Understood, what about things I make?”

“Finished goods are yours to take, but understand that resources aren’t necessarily free. You’ll be required to create things for us to sell in the Sweet Onion to compensate for costs. For this week, familiarize yourself with formations. Each station has books and compiled histories of previous masters—including vestiges recording feelings and actions required. You can’t take any of that away, but you can take copies of the basics from the library.”

“Any limitations on reading the books at the stations?”

“Nope. I don’t recommend jumping right into the advanced topics, but browsing them will give you an idea of what you can do with that talent.”

“What do you want me to do tonight?”

Gavin passed over a vestige, but his furrowed brow was enough to alarm Crow. The old man rarely showed much emotion unless he was joking around.

“We’ll start with Mana Crystals.”