Temra is right beside me, holding out the pitchfork in both her hands. I worry for her. The tool is heavy, too heavy for her to use for an extended amount of time, but she doesn’t show any fatigue yet.

She catches the sword swinging straight down at her between two of the tines. With a simple twist, the sword breaks in two, the magic of the pitchfork keeping the prongs strong and giving them the ability to break anything that comes between them. The soldier doesn’t have time to stare at his broken weapon for long before Temra sticks him with the spikes.

Kellyn fights as he usually does, unable to use his sword’s magic just yet.

But the opportunity presents itself soon.

Eventually, the bodies pile up, and we have to maneuver around them in order to use our weapons. Kellyn steps away from the forge, which allows a few men to get behind him.

While I was staring at Kellyn’s fire-heated sword back in the forge, begging my own brain for inspiration on what to do with it, I remembered the soldiers surrounding us on all sides of the forge.

Kellyn is already a good fighter. What he needs is something to assist if he’s overrun with enemies. It’s the only time I’ve seen him thwarted.

When he’s surrounded, the sword will shift in the direction he’s meant to turn to catch the next advancing attack. He uses that prompting to take out as many enemies as possible. The sword knows when an opponent is about to swing. It jerks in the right direction, and Kellyn only has to shift his feet with the motion. He takes out five soldiers even when he’s completely surrounded. Dodges exactly when he needs to. Swings when he needs to.

He’s incredible without this ability, but with it—

He’s unbeatable.

In just a few minutes, we’ve taken down half of Kymora’s forces. She watches from atop her horse, seemingly uninterested. She doesn’t flinch as soldier after soldier, man after man, woman after woman, falls to my makeshift weapons.

A dangerous feeling wells within my chest.

Hope.

Maybe, just maybe, once again I can pull my friends out of another tight spot. Maybe we’ll survive this. Maybe we’ll all be happy. Temra and I together. She with Petrik and I with Kellyn. Maybe everything will be as it’s supposed to be.

But after a time, I realize that we’re separating. Petrik is far to my right. Kellyn, far to my left. And Temra—Temra is behind me, far out of range, but handling things well enough on her own.

“Charge the smithy.”

The order comes from Kymora, and I don’t know how any of her soldiers can rally together in all the bedlam, but a group of them run at me straight on, smashing into my raised magicked hammer.

I go down from the force of so many, but so do my attackers. The magic of the shield sends them crashing to the ground, but I’m the first one to catch my feet. I swing my hammer at the first guard, catch his shoulder, feel the crunch as the reverberation shoots up my own arm.