Page 50 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

The entrance is a wide hallway, with iron piping running along the walls that are the same rocky gray of the mountain. Azaire makes it through the hall and into what appears to be the main room. There are three stations on either side, each with a Fire Folk standing before a chunk of steel, silver, or gold.

We sparsely work with gold.

“What are they making?” Azaire asks.

“I don’t know.” I spot Freyr, in the very back corner working on a piece of gold. “Last stall to the right.”

“Going in.”

“Be careful.”

“I know.”

Azaire approaches Freyr, who is none the wiser to his presence. He presses his invisible dagger to the Fire Folk’s throat, and I can feel Freyr’s body stiffen beneath the blade.

“I have a couple of questions for you,” Azaire says, trying to keep his voice low while also making it menacing.

“Okay, okay,” Freyr says. He reaches toward a scrap piece of metal, his hands blazing.

“Left hand,” I warn Azaire, and he has Freyr’s hand gripped and pinned behind him before I can make out the movement.

“Isa Althenia,” Azaire whispers, his grip tightening around the dagger’s handle.

“I haven’t seen her in decades,” Freyr chokes against the blade to his neck.

“What’s her relation to the Arcane?”

“She has none—” his words end in a hiss when Azaire pulls his arm with more force. “I don’t know. Isa had a friend, Willow Estridon, she’ll know.”

“That’s Wendy’s last name, Luc.”

I see a glimpse of a future fight I worry he can’t win. “Get out,” I tell him.

Azaire turns, and just as I saw, there are three welders behind him. Freyr takes the opportunity to grab Azaire’s arm. His grip is searing, heating the dagger too quickly, and Azaire has no option but to drop it. It falls to the floor, no longer invisible.

“Zaire, beanie.”

“I’m not killing them.”

Azaire starts running toward the back of the room. “Not that way,” I tell him. “Get to the entrance. The mountain is too thick.”

“I can’t get around them,” Azaire tells me and runs through the wall.

“You’re going to get stuck, turn around,” I warn him, but I want to plead. Turn around Azaire, please turn around. Run the other way.

“I’ll be fine.” He runs through the rock.

“You don’t know how deep it goes.” I can feel Azaire’s mind getting tired. I am going to lose him, Azaire is going to lose his grip on his magic, and he is going to get stuck within the mountain. “Turn around, Zaire, now.”

“I can’t fight them.”

“I can. Go back.”

I can feel Azaire weighing his options before he turns around, running through the rock, growing more tired still. He makes it out to the other side. The men are back at work, two guarding the front—none were guarding when Azaire had come in—and the remaining two each hold a piece of gold in their hands.

“Wait,” I tell him.

What they’re doing doesn’t look like regular welding. Their hands aren’t just glowing, they’re vibrating, and I can see their energetic essences warping around the metals. A mixture of oranges and some yellows. They’re doing something more to the metals—to the gold, which hasn’t been used in centuries. It’s the Arcanes’ metal, found on the Arcanes’ planet, Iris.

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