Beach

Sofie screeched with delight as she ran through the surf, her bare feet kicking up water and sand, leaving a trail of tiny footprints behind her. She clutched the hem of her white, knee-length sundress in one hand, the fabric fluttering with every step.

Cane chased after her, catching up easily before scooping her into his arms. He spun her in a wide arc, both of them laughing, until they tumbled down together at the edge of the tide, breathless and soaked.

"See?" Cane said, grinning. "This is why next time you let me finish off the last of the cider."

Sofie wrinkled her nose at him. "You drank three-fourths of it."

"Yeah, but not the last of it. Big difference."

They lay side by side, fingers intertwined, gazing up at the open stretch of blue sky. The waves rolled in and out beside them, a steady rhythm that matched the quiet thrum of their shared breath.

"I've been thinking about getting a psi rune," Cane said, voice soft.

Sofie turned her head. "Really? Aren't those expensive?"

"Not sure yet. But I heard there's a psi master stationed on the Defiant."

"Hmm," she murmured. "I'm sure."

"They've got like a ten-mile range," Cane added, glancing at her.

"I'm sure."

He blinked. "You seem to be stuck on that sentence."

She said nothing, a mischievous smile teasing the corners of her mouth.

Cane pressed on. "Jonas is getting one, too. And since we're business partners, he'll be able to ping me when he needs frost runes for weapons or armor."

"I'm sure."

Cane turned toward her, lifting an eyebrow. "Say that one more time. I dare you."

Sofie turned to face him, eyes wide and innocent. "I'm sure."

In one swift motion, Cane pulled her close, hand curling around her waist—right where he knew she was most ticklish.

"No—!" she shrieked, squirming. "Please—no tickling—"

"Do you regret your actions?" he asked, voice mock-serious.

"Yesss!" she laughed, breathless.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against hers. A heartbeat later, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him fully into the kiss.

When they finally eased apart, Sofie leaned back in the sand, a smile blooming across her face.

"That was nice," she said softly.

Cane stared at her for a beat, then deadpanned, "I'm sure."

Sofie laughed again, this time without protest.

The walk back to town was slow—deliberately slow. Neither of them said it aloud, but both were dragging out the moment, savoring the sun, the salt air, and the closeness.

"So…" Sofie said, bumping her shoulder gently against his. "Tell me more about the Defiant."

"Why ask me?" Cane grinned. "I'm not part of the crew."

Sofie tilted her head. "No?"

He laughed. "They're all female."

"Right, but didn't you stage some daring rescue? Saved the captain and her mermaid first officer from certain death?"

Cane squinted. "Certain death? No. Possible death… maybe."

"Well?" Sofie nudged him again. "Is it true?"

"Who've you been talking to?" he asked, eyeing her suspiciously.

"The crew of the Defiant. They told me and Mira the whole story."

"Oh." Cane sighed. "Well, there you go. Riddle solved."

He slipped an arm around her waist, smiling when she leaned in and kissed his cheek.

"Next time they dock," he murmured, "I'll introduce you."

"Really?"

"Yep."

Sofie beamed. "I'm sure."

Cane groaned. "You're never going to let that go, are you?"

"Nope."

"The town Summer Festival is next week," Sofie said as they walked, fingers intertwined, their hands swaying back and forth.

"Oh?" Cane kept his reply noncommittal.

Sofie nodded. "I thought we could go together. Only…"

"Only you're busy that day?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Have to bathe Tazi?" Cane guessed.

"Heavens—I'm not sure how she'd react to that."

"Decided to visit your ex-boyfriend in the capital?"

"What? Who has an ex-boyfriend?"

"Perhaps…"

Sofie stopped, pressing a hand firmly over his mouth. "Shush."

"Shushing," Cane mumbled against her palm.

"Only… I usually go with Mira. Could she come with us?"

"Can I talk now?"

Sofie removed her hand.

"I'll ask Fergis to come too," Cane said. "Make it the four of us." 

Walking toward town, the sound of the surf served as a pleasant backdrop to a sky slowly turning crimson, as the couple lost themselves in the moment.

"Looks like someone's at the old forge," Sofie said, squinting to make out a figure near the door. "Maybe it's Jonas."

Cane silently noted the impossibility of that—Jonas Ironfist, the masked blacksmith, and Cane, the Academy's metallurgy prodigy, were all versions of the same person. Over time, he'd built both identities, helped along by the runes woven into his mask: Jonas, the middle-aged, bearded man from the Highlands; Cane, the young student from Dormitory Seven Tower.

"Maybe," Cane replied. "I'm sure Jonas is out collecting metals or ores."

"I've heard he wears the mask to cover scars," Sofie murmured, lowering her voice. "Have you seen them?"

"No…" Cane chuckled. "Let's see who it is."

"Hello?" Cane called as they approached the figure from behind—a woman in faded leather armor, her graying hair tied in a single braid that hung down her back.

She turned, revealing the insignia of an arrow emblazoned on her right shoulder—marking her as part of an archer regiment.

"Oh. I was looking for Jonas," she said.

"Corporal Yanu?" Cane asked, feigning ignorance. He had to. This was the person—the reason for the arrow. The priceless, mythic, one-shot project he had labored over for days. Starmetal head, raptor wingbone shaft, gryphon-feather fletching, all topped off with a mythic-grade, air-activated replicator rune powered by a Grade Six elemental core.

The infamous thousand-plat arrow.

"Yes. Have we met?" the woman asked, giving a polite nod.

Her sharp archer's eyes flicked over the two of them in a heartbeat—female, early twenties, sharp-eyed and curious; male, same age, broad-shouldered, confident... and somehow familiar.

Cane motioned for her to follow and stepped into the forge like he owned the place—which, of course, he did. Glancing back, he noticed both women hesitating at the threshold.

"I'm Jonas's business partner," he said smoothly. "He does the smithing. I handle the metallurgy." 

Cane reached under the workbench, unlocking the masked blacksmith's personal chest. From it, he withdrew a long wooden case and placed it gently on the table.

"It's silly, really," Mad said as she stepped closer. "I started a scrap pile when Jonas first arrived. A few townfolk pitched in. He offered to spruce up one of my arrows to thank me."

Cane was tempted to laugh—or maybe cry. Either response felt appropriate.

"I know the story," he said quietly, opening the box.

Inside, he removed a single, unremarkable arrow and set it on the table.

Madeline picked it up, examining it with a faint smile. "Yep. That's mine. Same as I gave him—mostly unaltered."

"Using that, we crafted a second arrow," Cane said. "Jonas forged the arrowhead from... starmetal."

Mad blinked. "Starmetal? For an arrowhead?"

"He handed it off to me for rune work, and, well—we went a bit crazy, Corporal Yanu."

"Madeline," she corrected. "But call me Mad. And I love crazy. Show me the lunacy you two cooked up."

Cane lifted the second arrow from the box.

It pulsed softly with light. Magic shimmered across its surface—quiet but undeniable, like a storm held in stasis. Both Mad and Sofie leaned in unconsciously, caught in its gravity.

Mad stared, her sharp archer's eye narrowing with focus.

"This… this is…" she whispered. "Streamlined. Balanced. Steeped in something—something from the heavens. Death from above." Her voice caught. "I… I can have it? This is for me?"

Cane nodded, placing it into her hands with quiet reverence.

"This is a one-shot arrow," he said gently. "You know what that means."

Mad nodded, awed. "It'll do something wild—once. After that, it's spent." She looked up at him, eyes narrowing again, not unkindly. "Cane… is this really something you and Jonas should just give away for a scrap pile and a promise?"

"Truly," Cane said, "something like this can only be given away. No one could afford it. And if they could, they'd be mad to try."

Mad's eyes drifted down to the runic etching along the shaft. She read aloud:

"Cane's Folly?"

Sofie giggled, the spell broken. A moment later, Mad and Cane joined her.

Cane exhaled through laughter. "Indeed. We kept throwing impossible things at it until absurdity devoured our common sense."

Mad grinned. "Tell me what it does."

Cane nodded. "The tip's starmetal. Shaft's raptor wingbone. Fletching from a black gryphon. Rune's a mythic-tier replicator—air-activated, powered by a Grade Six air elemental core."

Mad's fingers traced the shaft as she slid the arrow into her quiver. The other arrows seemed to shift around it, whether from respect or fear.

"I'll keep this forever," she murmured.

"Jonas will be back tomorrow," Cane offered. "If you'd like to thank him in person."

Mad shook her head, then extended her hand. "We're shipping out. Rift travel to… well, that's classified. Let's just say I won't be around for a while."

Cane took her hand and shook it. "Safe journeys."

She turned toward the door, but he called out gently.

"Mad."

She paused in the doorway, silhouetted by the fading sun.

"If you're ever at the end," Cane said, voice low. "Desperate. Facing something overwhelming. Aim Cane's Folly at the heart of despair…"

He hesitated.

"Maybe," he finished, "maybe it'll turn out okay."

Mad smiled.

"Maybe," she echoed. And then she was gone.