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The forge at Baz Kardan Lake pulsed with quiet life, its stone channels breathing steam into the night. The air shimmered with heat despite the cool breath of early autumn, and the lake’s surface caught the orange glow from the vent fires like molten glass.
Tahlra stood at the water’s edge, staff in hand red bamboo polished smooth, the heartstone set at its crown glowing like a captured ember. She had felt the pull all evening, a heat that came not from the forge but from the lake itself, as if something far beneath had decided it was time to speak.
The surface broke. Steam coiled upward, forming first a column, then the outline of something more a figure wrought from flowing flame and black stone, crowned with flickering fire. Its eyes glowed white-gold, but there was a glint in them tonight, not just of power… but of curiosity.
“What is this?” the spirit rumbled, leaning forward to peer at the staff. The heat of its gaze made the bamboo hum faintly in Tahlra’s grip. “Bamboo from the living boiling lake, bound with a heart that is not your own… clever.”
Tahlra kept her footing on the hot stone, though the spirit’s nearness made her skin prickle. “It helps me focus. The forge needed steady heat — I needed control.”
The spirit’s expression shifted not quite a smile, but close. “Control. You think you have it. This tool you’ve made… it is a leash, but also a blade. I am amused that you carry both in one hand.”
It circled her slowly, the steam swirling in hypnotic patterns around them. “The forge is awake now, and its breath will mingle with mine. But the lake… the lake is still mine to command.”
Tahlra met its burning gaze. “Then teach me to command it with you.”
The spirit’s eyes narrowed, then softened in strange approval. “Perhaps I will… if you prove you can hold the leash without choking yourself.”
With that, it sank back into the depths, steam collapsing into the dark surface. Tahlra remained alone by the lake, the staff’s heartstone now warm enough to burn her hand but she didn’t let go.
