Something protective flared in me. I didn’t like anyone calling my metal unholy.
“Coldiron is sentient.” My voice came out cold, clipped. “It’s not unholy just because it’s beyond yourunderstanding.” I turned to Caspian. “My arrow. Please.”
“You sure you want this thing back?” He grabbed the shaft mid-point and offered it nock-first.
“It’s mine.” I reached past the shaft and wrapped my fingers around the arrowhead.
The metal went quiet at first. Then a reddish-gold glow seeped through my fingers as it recognized me, the same way it had always responded in the deepest tunnels of Crimson Ridge.
Three heirs stared at my glowing hand. None of them spoke for a few seconds.
“I’ve studied the texts on Coldiron for decades,” Aelindor said. “I once thought it was myth. The rarest metal forged in heaven, buried in hell. But it surfaced after the Q-bomb tore the barrier between the immortal and mortal realms.” He looked at the glow between my fingers. “And here it is. Cradled in your hand. I saw you reshape it on top of the train, Max. As soon as the arrow hit your palms, the metal changed. How?”
“I’ve always had a way with metal. Any metal.” I met his gaze. “It’s more so with Coldiron.”
“So you’re an alchemist now?” Drakken snorted.
“If I am, I wasn’t trained,” I said. “I don’t need training. I was born with the ability to find Coldiron, hear it, speak to it.” My voice thinned before I could stop it. “I first encountered the sentient metal when I was sent into the mine at age eight. Two days after my parents were killed in a drift collapse.”
The old pain surfaced like acid. I drew a breath against it.
Aelindor’s elegant fingers curved around mine. My hand still gripped the arrowhead, knuckles white. His touch didn’t just steady me. It reached into the raw, ragged place the memory had opened and held it shut. My body hummed. I fought not to bury my face against his chest and let someone else carry the weight. Let someone else hold my pain for five seconds.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Max,” Caspian said. He turned fully in his seat, his gaze warm and supportive. No lighthearted jokes. No charm. Just a man who recognized the shape of a grief he carried, too.
“It was a long time ago, sir.” I tried to get a grip on myself.
“The pain never goes away,” the shifter said quietly. “You just learn to carry it. Every second. Every day.”
He would know. Caspian, Drakken, and Nikolai had lost their parents to the White Witch. Aelindor had lost his home. We shared that wound like a bond forged in ugly, brutal reality.
“Coldiron recognized me before I even knew what it was in the mine,” I continued, pulling myself back together. “It spoke to me—fragmented words, impressions. Once I started working the tunnels, mining accidents almost stopped. Our Stormglass output surged.”
“That lines up.” Caspian’s brow creased. “About twelve years ago, our eagle network flagged that Crimson Ridge’s production had tripled overnight. No explanation. We sent Bastien, one of our best operatives, back into the mine to find out why.” He paused. “He was compromised and killed before he couldreport.”
I never met Bastien. Still, grief tugged at me at the loss.
“Coldiron made it possible,” I said. “It’s a sentient metallic contagion. It can change the nature of any ordinary metal and reforge it—but only under the command of someone it recognizes.”
“Like a metal whisperer?” Caspian ran a hand through his tousled wine-red hair. “There’s horse whisperers, whale whisperers… lots of whisperers, you know.”
“I’m more than a whisperer.” I smirked. “I’m a maven when it comes to metal. That’s how I caught the arrow and sent it back. The archdemon might have launched the weapon,” I hissed, “but he’s nothing but an impostor.” The metal shivered in my grip. “Coldiron is mine.”
I swallowed backmy birthrightjust in time.
What had gotten into me? I blinked. Was this the creature inside me? It had gone uncannily quiet, but I could feel it pricking its ears, listening to every word. Its presence burned at the back of my skull like a dark flame pressed against glass.
“That’s why the archdemon ran.” Aelindor nodded, as if piecing together more of the puzzle. A beat passed. “He’ll return. And he’ll bring more friends.”
I bit my lip. Worry and guilt gnawed at me. When the high demon came back, he’d bring the one who forged the Coldiron into that arrowhead. And I’d probably meet my match. There would be a brutal duel.
False heir!chirped the Coldiron inside the arrowhead.
“Whoever comes for you,” Aelindor said vehemently,reading my fear, “will have to go through us first. I promise you that.”
Drakken didn’t object. Didn’t chew me out like I expected.
“Th-thank you, sir.” His warmth and protectiveness were going to make me cry. And I did not want to ugly cry in front of the heirs, or anyone. Aelindor always brought out my most vulnerable side.
