Pain surged once more as Anasthasia felt the intense pressure drilled unto her shoulders. She tried to remove his hands away, but it led to no avail. She gawked at the man, who had his eyes gleamed with red and bore his fangs.
'What the—?!'
Although she scrutinized further his red-dyed teeth and lips, dread washed off her spine.
"Daniel!" she cried havoc. "What the heck happened to you?!"
Her eyes widened as he noticed his disheveled outfit. There are gashes and cuts on his neck and down his torso—buttons untucked—also revealed sweat all over his toned muscle.
But what piqued her curiosity: revealed a black symbol on the left side of his chest: Double hexagrams, alternating, toppled with a crown of thorns.
'What! That reeks the same miasma!'
He muttered in his husky voice, "Ana, I need help—I won't be able—"
"You do need help," Anasthasia moaned, feeling the pain that stung her back. "But let go of me, you're hurting me."
His hands twitched and jerked away.
"Ana... I'm sorry—"
"I'm not sure what happened to you, but I hope this will work." Her fingers on his broad chest as she cast.
'Regeneration!'
A bright light shone on his chest and revealed the cuts all over his body closed. But to her surprise, the symbol remained, albeit so blurry and translucent.
His ragged breathing seemed to calm down, but his eyes remained the same.
"That symbol on your chest."
Daniel's eyes gaped. "You don't have to know!" he retorted while he buttoned his cloth once.
Silence shrouded them for a minute as he started to snicker from his place.
Anasthasia creased her brows from his sudden shift of emotions. 'It was an act of his premise!' Then she realized too late.
"I didn't know you could heal to this extent. Perhaps, you could cure my father, the King."
"What are you talking about?"
He clicked his tongue, seeing her stoic face with arched brows, but he then sneered at her, "You can't be so foolish to lie this much, Ana."
Anasthasia tried to keep her composure, until his next words blurted out, shaking her core.
"I knew you snuck in my father's room that night, but I wonder why."
Inwardly, she shuddered from the revelation. Her mouth opened, but no words left her lips.
"It's weird to have such feminine scent, a familiar one at that. Moreover, the lingering scent that matches yours right now."
His left palm struck the craggy wall as he leaned closer to her right ear, gapping by a hair's breadth. "Not even my mother, the Queen could enter his chamber."
Electrocution sparked all over her body as she realized. 'Don't tell me…'
Daniel took a glimpse of her livid reaction, the kind of face he wanted to see, which had a smug smirk on his face.
"Michael didn't tell you?" He let out a mirthless laugh and broke free from her. "We have a keen sense of smell, not inferior to a sense of hearing."
'Dame it! I was careless! I only took into account the sound and vision!'
"What if I don't want to?" she challenged.
"You're in no position to disregard this, Ana." His fingers protruded nails akin to claws that slid to her cheeks. "You'll never know how much I can convince you."
"Oh?" Since it was his farce, she decided to play along with his whims. "I'm curious."
He beamed a mischievous smile. "Lucy."
"You are not going to harm my apprentice!" She snapped, exuding a heavy pressure in the area.
"Then, follow me closely. I'd meet you tomorrow afternoon—" They suddenly shifted to the left as they saw an incoming slash of wind.
Daniel dodged backward. She noticed how Michael sprinted and sent more hits to Daniel with a blast.
"I knew you'd be this cruel, brother."
"Enough of this, Daniel."
Daniel laughed out maniacally. "See you soon, Ana." He faded out to the darkness.
Standing gallantly in front of her, Michael shifted and gazed at her with concern. "Are you okay—?"
A loud slap resounded the still night.
He subconsciously placed his hand unto his stinging cheek. He looked so dazed.
"Tasha, I'm sorry."
"You knew it all along. Didn't you vouch for your brother?"
Anasthasia discerned his face, astounded, he tried to open his mouth to reason but sealed his lips. "... I'm sorry. I'm late."
"I never knew you two have such capabilities, and I was complacent, still, on myself." She clicked her tongue and gnawed her teeth. "I'm sorry for slapping you in the process. I'm upset—"
"I understand, although what you did hurt, I appreciate it nevertheless."
Anasthasia couldn't help but feel a flutter in her chest as she witnessed his grin from ear to ear. Her hands immediately reached out to his cheek and cast the same spell to soothe his pain.
"Shall we?" With his cue, they strolled back inside the smithy.
Surprise overtook Anasthasia as they came in. She darted on Jack, who sat comfortably on the chair and held the newly made sword.
'My, he had a brown leather head cap earlier. Now I can see the undercut hair with a fringe that curtained to his eyebrows.'
Swing by swing of the sword mused sharp cuts into thin air. With a stop, the blade sheened. It captivated her heart.
"You seem so engrossed with this. Do you like it?"
"I love it," said Anasthasia in awe.
Jack chuckled at her response. He stood up and gestured his hands to the nearby chair. "Have a seat."
"I have heard about you, Ana. But after giving it some thought, I have the gist of what you want to ask of me."
She glared at Michael. "I hope you didn't say too much." He gulped audibly and looked at Jack again. "May you make a staff for me?"
"I beg your pardon?" His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not that confident in making a staff; it's one of my least expertise as an artisan."
"Aren't you too humble, Jack?"
"Michael, shut up. For goodness' sake." Jack clicked his tongue.
"Do you have an idea in mind?"
"I can try and make a sketch right now."
Jack nodded. "Sounds good; let me grab something." He stood up, went to the cabinet, grabbed a pen and parchment, and went back to them. "Let's see what you have in mind."
Anasthasia propped her arm beside the table and started to sketch, her fluid movements sailed nimbly. Both of them fascinated, could only stare at her. Meanwhile, she was too immersed in her draft.
For her, time seemed to slow down. She was in all smiles as she glanced one more time and let out a hearty huff. "I'm done!"
"Already?" they chorused, leaning close to her, and stared at her creations.
"Amazing! An hour has passed, and this is a detailed and well-thought-out draft: Measurements and Ratios, Functionality, Labels, and Purpose are all here."
As a professional artisan, Jack looked at the grand scheme of her design and gave a nod of approval. He went on the details further and somehow came off as scrupulous as he pointed out some flaws of the draft.
He sometimes tripped himself over, a few times, the terminologies and things he never knew, which led him to a few misconstrues.
In Anasthasia's defense, she was courteous enough to explain things and how they were placed. Some things seemed impossible from all the brainstorming, so she had to let go and scribbled back to look for alternative ways.
After putting much thought, Jack sighed as he crossed his arms. "This isn't easy to make, so many intricacies. Are you sure these are needed?"
"Indeed."
"The materials are of great rarity: either you look for them yourself, which I highly doubt, or buy them, which is also costly."
"Absolutely," Anasthasia replied.
"Miss Ana, there are a lot of weapons out there that are in a semi-mass production state. I'm sure the staff isn't that rare as well."
"I highly doubt those are of high-quality."
Jack quipped, "Yes, quality of the weapons are compromised for the quantity quota."
"Is that what's the trend of the artisans these years? Why so?"
"Technology, Tasha, advances, and artisans adapt to changes and meet up the high demands."
"Quite counter-intuitive." She harrumphed. "In essence, a magician has a given set of spells. Even a master needs great tools; one can only give its best relative to the tools given. Don't expect Jack, a distinguished blacksmith, to craft a mighty sword with a toy hammer. Unless…"
Jack raked his hair as he had a sudden onset of headache. "Sure enough. That's no ordinary wood. For the shaft and the dowel, that is. That orb isn't easy to procure, and this crazy metal—"
"I can assure myself that its cost-effective."
Jack's face looked grim. Michael listened to both of their points; he sized the draft once more and checked the materials.
"These are all familiar. I've seen them."
"Where, Michael?"
"Auction."