Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tess raced toward Ironhill with lightning dancing on her skin and excitement sparking her heart.

She'd forgotten a lot about this place; she'd been taken so long ago. But she thought she recognized it. The broad strokes of it, at least. The hill swelled in front of her, enormous and rocky and ribboned with iron ore. Yep, that was the right geology. If it'd had a pointy peak instead of a flat plateau top, Tess would've called it a mountain! And the houses, she kind of remembered the houses. Stony and sturdy with holes for windows to let the fresh, free air in, and with wood-fed hearths. A few on the surface, even more in tunnels that wrapped around beneath the plateau—but Tess remembered the surface more. I spent more time on the surface, didn't I? I think I lived on it?

Tess had to squint to spot the surface houses; they were clustered together atop the plateau, with a few strays dotting the edges. The houses blended into the landscape, almost like they had sprung up naturally from the hill's craggy ground.

The people were more important than the place, though.

And she barely remembered them.

Tess had lost most of the faces and names. But they'd been like her. Shiny, metallic skin. Lots of colors. Lots of strength. Lots of heart. Tess thought she might recognize her mom's face, if she saw it. And her dad's. Had she had a sibling? Maybe some cousins?

Her pace slowed as she started up the plateau, hiking up a winding path. Nerves joined the excitement and lightning, making her jittery and weirdly hesitant.

Tess wanted this. She wanted to see what she'd lost. She wanted to have a real home, a home that felt like home, a home where everyone cared about her.

Not that Erin didn't care. Tess's heart twisted, remembering how she'd left him; how he'd watched, sick and forlorn but all too understanding, as she'd said her last goodbye and sprung out the window. Or Mom—Erin's mom. Tess had left her a note, because she'd gone in a hurry and didn't want Mr. Ruunaser to catch onto the fact that she was dipping out. And Al had cared too, of course. He'd been off at university, so she'd dropped by there for a quick hi-bye, and he'd been so damn happy for her! Told her to seize onto that free spirit and get the fuck out, live her life, be free of their dad's thumb! So, yeah, Tess had had a few people who cared.

But it was just… It was different. She wanted to see her birth parents again, to pop into their living room and announce herself, all casual and confident, like, hi, I'm back! She wanted to see the shock and delight spread across their faces.

But what if I don't recognize them? What if they don't recognize me? What if they're not even around anymore?!

Tess stopped.

She took a deep breath. I won't know unless I look for them, she told herself firmly.

She continued.

As Tess drew near Ironhill, she started to pick out the people. Skin of copper, gold, bronze, steel, and a dozen other shades of metal gleamed in the late afternoon sun. They hauled wheelbarrows, metalsmithed in outdoor forges, and meandered the streets in clusters. Chatter drifted toward her on the wind. Rugged though it was, Ironhill sounded like a happy, friendly kind of place. Tess perked up and walked faster. If nothing else, this was a nice change from Asera. Asera had always seemed so stuffy and restrictive, full of scholars and politicians being serious and persnickety.

Eventually, Tess got close enough to start drawing attention. A few faces turned toward her—mostly faces she didn't know, and mostly faces who seemed confused. A child peered out from behind her mother's legs. A powerful-shouldered smith paused in the middle of hammering out a strip of steel. She was coppery brown with short, feathery gold hair, and she looked at Tess with mild curiosity. Another person, an old dude with bluish skin and a beard and hair like a cumulonimbus, tickled some nigh-forgotten memory in her brain. Him, she knew. She was just having trouble placing him.

The cumulonimbus guy leaned on his walking stick and ambled over.

Tess pasted on a smile and waved.

His eyes widened. "Tess?"

"Yep, that's me!" Tess paused and wracked her brains, trying to remember. "You're… Old Man Haymitch?"

An expression crossed his face that Tess didn't know how to read. Kind of mixed. Kind of sad, maybe. But he mustered a smile for her, all the same, and he hobbled on over and clapped Tess on the shoulder. "That's right. I'm your mom's youngest uncle. Good to see you made it back, kiddo."

Mom's uncle. That's family, basically!

"It's good to be back," said Tess. And it was true, even though she still felt kind of weird and anxious about barely recognizing anyone, about having been gone so long. Haymitch's smile widened, warm and genuine in a way that had seemed rare in Asera, and on impulse, Tess drew the man in a hug. He let out an "uff" of surprise as she squeezed him extra tight, but he reciprocated, squeezing her back.

Whoa, she thought, he's pretty strong for an old guy!

Tess held him for another few seconds, then released him. She asked hopefully, "Could you point me to my mom's and dad's house?"

He beamed. "I can do you one better. I'll take you there myself!"

An unfamiliar voice piped up. "'Scuse me, can I get in on this?"

Tess turned toward it, surprised.

The smith stood before her, golden hair mussed, a kerchief tied around her muscular arm. She smiled at Tess with a look of recognition that Tess wished she could return; indeed, when Tess tried to muster up a friendly smile, the smith's own shrank to something sadder, gentle and understanding. "I'm Gil," she said. "Friend of your mom and dad. I used to babysit you and a couple of your cousins. It's alright if you don't know us all on sight, sweetie. They took you young."

Tess's eyes prickled. She embraced the stranger-but-not Gil too, fiercely, before the prickles could turn into blubbering.

Gil hoisted her up and swung her around in a bear hug, and that sparked something. A faint memory of the same feeling, though Tess had been smaller and the ground much farther away. "Spinning hugs," she realized. "I got spun around a lot."

Gil set her down, grinning. "That's right! It made you giggle." She poked Haymitch. "Now c'mon, let's go surprise her folks. They're gonna be ecstatic."

Tess's parents didn't live far. She, Haymitch, and Gil only had to walk six or seven blocks into the city.

Even over that short distance, they attracted quite a bit of attention as they passed through. Metalworkers ('cause there were lots of metalworkers here!) stopped what they were doing to stare, smile, or, in a couple of cases, wave enthusiastically, though Tess wasn't sure if they were waving to her or to Haymitch or Gil (Gil always waved back regardless). A street vendor beamed at her and pressed a fried dough treat into Tess's hands, insisting, "No charge! Welcome back!" Tess wished she remembered the vendor's name; she was an elderly lady, and Tess thought she might've had her fried dough treats before. Something about the vendor's grin and the warm, crispy-chewy treat felt comforting.

But Tess was totally going off of vibes and instinct. She didn't know.

They soon reached a stout, stone-walled house with wide windows and an even wider door. When Haymitch knocked, a muffled voice called out, "Coming!" from deep within the house. Tess waited, antsy, shifting from foot to foot.

The door jerked open, revealing a towering, steel-colored woman with hair like a thundercloud. She had strong, muscley arms that looked like they could scoop Tess right up, even now, and shoulders wide enough to stand on. She blinked in surprise at them all. And then her stare locked on Tess. Frozen. Processing.

This time, Tess knew. Down to her bones. "Mom!" cried Tess, and threw her arms around the woman's torso.

For three agonizing seconds, her mom didn't move.

Tess's hold loosened, her heart sinking.

But then—

"Tess?" she whispered.

Tess beamed. "Yep."

"You made it—you—you're back?! OH MY GODS!" Her mom seized her and lifted her bodily off the ground, crushing Tess in a hug so tight and warm and wonderful that she could barely breathe. Her mom's storm-cloud hair tickled Tess's face. She smelled like metal and fire, like maybe she'd just been working in the forge. The scent triggered more memories: the pounding of a hammer, glowing hot metal, being gently chivvied away from a blazing forge…

Oh right. She's a metalsmith, isn't she? That has to be where some of that hugging strength came from.

Eventually, Tess's feet touched solid ground, and her mom loosened her hold.

"Tom!"called her mom urgently. "Owen! Get out here! TESS IS BACK!"

Tess peered around her mom's bicep, heart jumping. Dad?

Two heads poked out from the back of the house. One was pink with greenish blue hair, like copper in water, and a full beard. The other looked younger, but older than Tess, with white hair kind of like hers and grey skin darker than her mom's. "Tess?" said the younger one disbelievingly. "It—but—she—" His eyes widened. "Little sis?"

Little sis.

Tess remembered a smaller version of him chasing her around the house. Ruffling her hair. Sneaking cookies from the cookie jar while telling her very emphatically that they weren't supposed to sneak cookies from the cookie jar, even though it wouldn't hurt anyone really, 'cause it was against the rules, technically, and I guess you don't even consider breaking rules yet, do you? She wasn't sure why that memory stuck out in particular, or how she'd remembered it, except that it'd been a little weird and a little funny. Tess brushed the mystery aside—not important now—and waved, leaning out from behind her mom. "Hi, bro," she said, trying for that casual tone she'd envisioned and not quite managing it.

He teared up and rushed over.

Tess tucked her face against his chest and hugged him back.

Is he Tom, or Owen? Owen, right? I think?

"Tess!" cried her dad. He enveloped both her and her brother, holding them close, but gently. Tess was distantly aware of her mom shouting in the background, calling out a bunch of names. More feet pattered in. The next minute was a blur of cheering, tears, embraces, and dancing without music. Tess was swung and passed around the room with exclamations of joy, wonder, and, from a few of the smaller kids who rushed in, "nice to meet you!"s and expressions of eager curiosity.

It wasn't all as familiar as Tess had hoped. She knew so few names. Her mom introduced a bunch of younger siblings and cousins that Tess didn't even remember having. (Maybe some of them had been born after she'd been taken?) Her dad, Haymitch, and Gil reintroduced her to faces and names she didn't know as they streamed in. Aunts, uncles, friends of the family…

Eventually, her dad took her by the shoulders and said, "You've grown! We've all missed you so much. When you were taken, it was like a hole in my heart that never went away."

Tess swallowed back a lump in her throat.

"How about we have a feast tonight, and you tell us everything—what happened to you, where you were, and how you made it back?" He grinned. "Unless you feel like telling the tale a hundred times, that is. Everyone will want to know!"

Tess didn't think she'd have the patience to tell her story a hundred times. One thing she'd discovered, once she had lightning racing beneath her skin and the sky calling her name, was that she had zero patience for repetitive tasks. None. She craved movement! Adventure! Anywhere but the horrible restrictive walls she'd spent so much time Unsparked in! So telling 'em all in one fell swoop sounded like a great idea. "Yeah!" said Tess enthusiastically. "Everyone can here how I was blessed by the sky!"

Her dad's eyes widened. "You were what?!"

"I got struck by lightning, and it was awesome. And painful. But mostly awesome."

Her dad chuckled, though it had kind of a nervous edge to it. "That's—yes, I think we do want to hear about that." He looked her up and down. "You're okay, aren't you? I see, ah, you've got some scarring on that shoulder—"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry, it was worth it."

"Oh. Well. Good."

Her mom slung an arm around Tess's shoulders. "Did I hear right? My baby's been blessed by the sky?"

Tess beamed. "Yep!"

The house erupted into mayhem as relatives and family friends of all colors and shades scrambled to gather food and plates. It was a chaotic but enthusiastic affair, with a giant cauldron of soup set to bubble somewhere in the back while most of the family pulled out simple snacks like dried fruit and bread. Tess's mom scooped her up and placed her on the table—on the table! No one's ever let me, let alone WANTED me, to sit ON the table!! Her bro passed her a plate of cheese and bread. Haymitch tried to give her a mug that smelled like ale, but her dad swatted that away and gave her a mug of sweet fruit juice instead.

"Alright, Tess," said her mom warmly, "let's hear it!"

Dozens of eyes watched her eagerly. Tess gazed upon the sea of faces that weren't altogether familiar, but friendly all the same, and felt bolstered. She took a deep breath, then said, "I came here from Asera after I was blessed by the sky!"

A chorus of "What?!"s and "No ways!" and "Whoa!"s met her ears.

"I was Unsparked for the longest time, because—okay, I was bought by this aristocratic family—"

Frowns and a few hisses permeated the room, hostility toward the as-of-yet-unnamed family.

Tess felt the need to clarify. "—actually by the dad, specifically, the mom and two kids didn't get a say and just tried to make me comfortable, so please don't blame them for the dad—anyway, I wasn't happy there. And getting taken from here was, uh. Really bad. So I was just… Unsparked. I didn't want anything strongly, or have strong opinions, just this… y'know, a listlessness." Oops, this was turning out more of a downer start than Tess had intended. She needed to move this along. "So I stayed with them a long time, because I had no drive to leave. The kids, Erin and Al, they're alright. They were helpless. Their mom was okay too. The dad was kind of a jerk, but he didn't physically harm me."

Many of the faces still looked angry. But many looked relieved, or else understanding, in a solemn, melancholy way.

Her mom's mouth was pressed in a thin line, her brow furrowed. Her dad looked sad, but when his eyes met hers, he nodded to her encouragingly.

Tess took a sip of her juice. "But that place, it wasn't what I needed. And it wasn't home. I think, on some level, I knew that, but without knowing where I wanted to go instead…"

More nods.

"Anyway. One evening, I was out running an errand, something the dad had told me to do. And a storm rolled in. Clouds like steel wool, thunder rumbling so deep and close it rattled my bones…" Tess paused for dramatic effect. Seemed appropriate. She was getting to the good part. She took another long draught of juice and popped a date in her mouth.

"C'mon," called her brother, "out with it!"

"Oh hey, looks like I got a heckler." Tess grinned, then popped another date in her mouth, just to tease him. He and a few others made exasperated noises, but he was grinning ear to ear. He's happy to see me being contrarian, Tess realized. And the pieces clicked into place. He's happy because I'm Sparked. Wait, is that why he kept taunting me with the cookie snatching? Was he trying to goad me into Sparking myself, somehow?!

Oh wait. Story time. The actual Sparking!

"Sooo," said Tess, teasing them with the syllable, drawing it out. The crowd leaned toward her. Elbows rested on tables and, in some cases, on chairs and other people. "As I was saying, this storm. Thunderstorm. Thunder shook my bones, and then, lightning arced down in a blast of white and struck me, dead on my shoulder." Tess bared the shoulder in question, flexing to throw the scarring into sharp relief.

The crowd gasped.

Huh. Guess I'm not a half bad storyteller!

"The lightning coursed through me, and it—well, it hurt like crazy, but I'd never felt so alive in my life. Every nerve was on fire. Power raced beneath my skin. And when the lightning had run its course…" Tess called upon the ambient Lightning, letting it crackle through her and over her golden skin. "It left me a gift." She beamed. "I'm a Lightning mage, and I realized, all of a sudden, that I could do so much cool stuff."

Several of her audience cheered, including her mom and bro. Her dad didn't cheer, exactly, but he wore this soft, wondering expression, like Tess was an incredible person.

"Like… I could call upon the lightning to propel me super high! I found out I could jump on all the roofs. I immediately wanted to jump on all the roofs."

That got some laughs.

"Am I allowed to jump on roofs here, by the way?"

"If you don't break anything," replied her mom, her eyes twinkling. "But we do need to be able to sleep, so please be quiet at night."

"Gotcha. Quiet rooftop bouncing is okay."

Her mom laughed, bright as bells.

Tess thought, maybe, she remembered that laugh.

She blinked back a surge of bittersweet emotion and kept talking. "Another thing I could do was make a fist and cloak it in lightning. And I could shatter things with it, if I backed it up with hardened skin. I, uh. Might have defaced a public statue. But from what I'd heard, the statue was of some dude who was a jerk, so it was fine." She paused. "Well, I think it was fine. Asera should memorialize nicer people. Anyway. I suddenly realized I could do so much, and no one around had the right combination of power and assho—" Tess caught herself. Right. Little kids. Miiight want to tone it down for them. "I mean, jerkishness to stop me, as long as I didn't do anything horrible to anyone. And I realized… I wanted to leave Asera. I wanted to leave, and adventure, and try a million things, and—it was like this intense itch. To get outta there."

A hush fell.

Softly, Tess said, "I realized, then, what the sky had given me. I realized I'd been Sparked."

Nods. Raised mugs. No cheering, because everyone was so caught up in listening, hanging on her every word.

"And I went up on the roof of the aristocrat family, and I thought about where I'd want to go instead. And my first thought was, well, here. Ironhill. Home." Tess's voice caught on the word home. Logically, Ironhill was home. Ironhill was where she'd been unjustly taken from and where she belonged. She hoped, eventually, it'd sink in and she'd feel like this was home. It was sure nice here. And her real parents were here. This is home. It's got to be. "Back to you guys."

Her dad, mom, and brother all wiped their eyes. So did several other faces in the crowd. Is… is the fried dough lady crying for me? Dammit, what was her name? I should remember! I got reintroduced! I think!

"So I left that night. I said goodbye to Erin and Al—nothing too long, just hopped in their windows and let them know I was going—then off I went. Just like that."

Silence.

"And the trip back?" asked her dad. "How was it?"

"Oh, it was pretty chill. Made a few friends for a few seconds, figured out I can literally break a storm—which is awesome—because I'd accidentally riled up the storm god, which was less awesome, but live and learn, right?"

Her dad chuckled nervously, again. Tess was starting to get the impression that he didn't like perilous adventures.

"Other than that, it was pretty smooth. I stopped in a couple of towns on the way and exchanged labor for shelter and food. I never stayed anywhere for long, and if it seemed like someone wanted to keep me around or wasn't offering a fair deal, I skipped out." Tess shrugged. "With how strong I was, I had lots of options in terms of quick, easy-for-me jobs that people were very thankful and happy to pay for. I, uh, had to ask directions a couple of times, because, y'know, it's been a long, long time since I was taken. I had the general cardinal direction, though. Most of the time."

Okay, Tess needed to end her story and tie a neat bow on it. Gotta stick the landing.

"Aaaand I made it here, and I ran into Haymitch and Gil, who took me to Mom's and Dad's place, and you all know the rest!" Tess threw her arms up excitedly. "I'm Tess Stormbreaker, and I'm back in town!"

Whoops and cheers filled the room. Strangers and relatives and strange relatives raised their mugs for her.

Aw yeah. Stuck it.

Tess popped a few dates in her mouth. Her mom ushered her off the table with a broad, dewey-eyed grin. "I'm so damn proud of you," she said, and squeezed Tess's shoulder. "You found your way back. All on your own!"

Tess beamed at her.

The feasting and chatter carried on late into the night.

Tess woke up the next day in a bed too small for her.

It was a lovingly crafted bed, albeit old, with a thick, brightly patterned quilt and a child's stuffed dragon tucked up against the wall. But she had to curl her legs to keep her toes from dangling off the end, and her face was mashed into the pillow up against the headboard. Sunlight streamed through the window, warming her face and highlighting a bright yellow rug with dragons on it. 

Tess rolled over and blinked a few times, drowsy, reorienting herself. Right. Childhood room. Room her parents had never had the heart to clean out, but had kind of, sort of, semi-repurposed for extra storage. They'd cleaned it up as best they could for her on short notice, and they'd said they'd look into getting her a bigger bed. Most importantly, it felt safe and warm. Friendlier, somehow, than the grand, cold halls of the Ruunaser manor or their ginormous, four-poster beds. This place was allowed to be messy, cluttered, homey with mismatched decorations and knick-knacks and books packed in on rickety shelves. Here, Tess didn't have to tiptoe around or worry about breaking fragile art pieces. Or worry about fragile adoptive siblings breaking themselves.

Wish Erin had something like this. Some coziness and mess would be good for him. He'd probably be way less high strung.

Tess felt a pang at the thought.

Wish I'd taken him with me.

Tess sat up and shook her head, trying to clear it. He's fine. He'll be fine. He's got good doctors in Asera. He needs those. Plus, he's such a book nerd. He'd miss being near the libraries and universities, and all that. Loves that stuff, fits right in.

And this place is a better fit for me! It's not perfect, but it's good! It'll feel like home in no time!

Even so, she had this weird feeling like she still didn't quite fit, like she was trying to exist in a space she was too big for.

Tess shoved the weird feeling aside. It's still way better than Asera. I just need to get to know it.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stretched luxuriously. Her skin gleamed and glittered in the sun. Her lightning scar twinged with the phantom of pain—a small price to pay for her Spark, and one that was diminishing day by day, becoming less intense and frequent. Tess cracked her neck and knuckles and stood up.

Alright. Time to start living it up in Ironhill!

And so, she set about exploring her new home.

Time passed her by in dollops, taking great leaps and slowing to an agonizing crawl in turn.

"You've got to be patient when you temper metal," said her mom. 

"Patient. Got it." Tess flexed her hands in the thick leather gloves her mom had lent her. She had goggles to protect her eyes, too, big dark ones that dimmed the blazing light of the forge. Heat rippled through the air, making sweat bead on the back of Tess's neck. The clang, clang of her mom's hammer rang out in a steady rhythm as she flattened and shaped a hunk of orange-hot metal into something vaguely resembling a shovel—that was, in fact, meant to be a shovel, and would be eventually. Her mom's thundercloud hair was bound back with a bandana, and she worked steadily, her arms flexing and her focus locked onto her work.

Tess cleared her throat. "Do you want me to help, or…?"

"Oh! Yes, you should take a turn." Her mom grinned. "Let me see you work, sweetheart. We're just flattening it out, getting the rough shape." She held out the hammer like a lord bequeathing one of those fancy symbolic swords.

Tess accepted the hammer and swung it around, feeling the weight of it. Then, under her mom's watchful eye, she got to work. Swing, swing, swing. Bang, bang, bang. Again and again and again.

Tess had been here for two hours already. She'd learned enough about metalwork to realize there was a heck of a lot of stuff she didn't know, and parts of it were awesome. Tess had gotten to take the molten-metal bucket out of the fire and pour it into the cooling block thingy. But her mom was handling all the trickier parts of it for now. And even when Tess got to work, sometimes it got… tedious. Forging felt like a lot of standing around and waiting for things to melt, or else doing the same thing over and over again. Like now. Hitting this blob of metal. Tess had never imagined that wielding fire and steel and sending sparks flying could get tedious.

Bang, bang, bang.

But here she was.

Tess bit her lip. Maybe if I hit it harder, this'll go faster. And so, she readied the hammer and put the full might of her body into it.

BANG.

"Tess," said her mom warningly.

Tess stared at the now dramatically dented chunk of metal. She'd almost hammered clean through it; one spot was super, super thin compared to the rest of the spots. Oops. "Sorry, Mom."

Her mom sighed and gave her a fond pat on the shoulder. "It's okay, sweetie. You've never blacksmithed before in your life; it's normal to make mistakes on your first try." She held out a single, leather-clad hand. "For a shovel head, this is salvageable. Give me the hammer, and I'll show you how to fix it."

Tess sheepishly passed her mom the hammer and went back to watching. 

Her mom slipped back into that zone of deep focus, her hammer ringing with the regularity of a tolling bell or gong. As the metal's glow lessened to a darker, reddish orange, she stuck it in the fire again to bring it closer to yellow-hot, then got back to hammering, getting the metal to recompress and thicken that dented bit little by little. Hit by hit by hit…

Tess's attention wandered to the puffy clouds looming on the horizon; to the chatter of neighbors as they passed, gossiping about something she had no context for; to the more complicated projects sitting partially finished on her mom's workbenches, like the kickass sword and a weird twisty sculpture that might've been art or might've been something functional. She tried to drag her focus back to her mom's technique as she shaped the metal, she really did. But Tess's mind drifted. She wondered what her siblings (most of whom she still barely knew) were up to right now. She wondered if her family ever traveled. (I could ask them! Gotta remember to ask them.) She wondered how Erin was doing, back in Asera. And Al. She wondered what they'd think of Ironhill—if she could get them to escape the Ruunaser manor for a visit. Just briefly.

"Tess?"

Tess started.

Her mom smiled wryly at her, hands on her hips. "I feel like you're not getting a ton out of watching me work. How about you find the little ones and play for the rest of the day, rejoin me tomorrow, and I give you a simple project to really bash around and work on yourself? Might be a bit more interesting."

Tess rubbed the back of her neck. "Sure. Sorry, Mom."

"It's alright." Her mom peeled off her gloves. "I'm ready to take a lunch break anyway."

Tess did try the simple project the next day. She made an effort to stay engaged. She listened to her mom's craftsmanship advice and tried to heed it, and she persisted in trying to shape her block of iron into a long crowbar. But she had similar problems as before: after the hundredth hammer stroke, her mind wandered, and her feet itched to run around, to launch her into the sky. She wound up bringing the hammerhead down on her own thumb because she was so distracted. It was a good thing Tess had those leather gloves—and good, of course, that she was metalcaste, and not half as easy to break as the typical Aseran, at least from a physical blows standpoint. Even so, it kinda smarted.

Upon hearing Tess's muttered curse, her mom checked on her again and eyed the half-shaped lump of metal. Her brow furrowed as she studied Tess's face. "You know," she said carefully, "if blacksmithing isn't sparking your interest, you can say so. Just because you're my daughter doesn't mean you have to do what I do. Owen didn't."

Tess blinked. "He farms with Dad, right?" Honestly, Tess hadn't thought farming would be interesting, compared to shaping hot metal, so she'd started with her mom and hadn't shadowed her brother and dad yet.

"Yep. Not that you need to do that either, if you don't want to."

"But I want to do something."

"And you've got plenty of time to try things out and figure out which 'something' you want to do. You'll find your place. I know it."

Tess tried farming, but it wasn't really her thing either—although she liked hanging out with her dad and Owen.

"Remember when you were little, and at the start of the day, you'd follow us around with the big weeding basket?" Her dad smiled fondly at the memory. Flecks of dirt had settled in his greenish blue beard and dusted his pink, gleaming nose. He, too, wore gloves for his work—big, long, tattered ones stained with soil instead of soot. He grasped a thistle by its base and yanked it out of the potato patch. The thistle's roots were a tangle, laden with rocky soil and bugs. "The basket was almost as big as you! But whenever we asked if you'd rather pull weeds or use the watering can, you said the basket was fine."

"We thought it might be the first glimmer of a preference," added Owen. He, too, yanked out a thistle. His white hair was bound back in a tight ponytail. He grinned at her. "It was pretty obvious you weren't Sparked yet, but we thought, you know, if we pushed on that, encouraged it… maybe tempted you to make up your own mind about things in a couple of other ways…"

Tess held out the basket. The truth was, she'd forgotten about always picking the basket. But instinctively, when her dad and bro had pulled out tools and invited her to pick what she'd be doing that morning, Tess had eyed the giant, stripey-patterned basket and chosen it, just as she apparently had all those years ago. 

She thought harder, and phantoms of memories came back to her. She did remember toddling after her dad and watching him crouch in the dirt. She remembered Owen holding her hand. She remembered, in a flash, Owen holding out a dirt-encrusted potato and claiming that it'd be dinner, dirt and all. Tess had immediately tried to put it in her mouth, and he'd hastily withdrawn it, saying, I was joking. Joking! She wasn't sure if she actually remembered the basket, though, or if she could just picture it if she tried hard enough.

And yet, I grabbed it today.

"Huh," said Tess. She held out the basket so her dad and Owen could drop the weeds in. "I forgot about that. But maybe I remembered subconsciously."

"Maybe." Owen dropped his thistle in and ruffled her hair.

Tess casually slung her arm around him and put him in a headlock. "I remember you doing that, for sure. But now I can do this in retaliation."

"Heeey, cut that out!" Owen squirmed and shoved her arm off, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Tess ruffled his hair, messing up his tidy ponytail. "I get why you did this now."

"I never put you in a headlock!"

"Oop! I guess not."

Owen grabbed another weed. "It's both strange and extremely fun that you give me shit now."

"Giving each other shit is the prime sibling bonding experience." Tess looked down at the basket. It had a paltry number of weeds in it. Her dad had said something about leaving these out to sun-dry and using them as tinder for fires, once Ironhill's bright rays had scorched all the moisture out of them. Waste not want not, I guess! Did Asera's agricultural system do something like this? Erin would know. I could ask him if—uh. Shoot. I should write him a letter at some point, probably.

Owen's voice broke through her thoughts. "What'cha thinking about?"

Tess started. "Huh?"

"You were a million miles away all of a sudden."

Beyond him, their dad still worked on the weeds. But Tess could tell from the way he glanced over at them, and from the small, rueful smile on his lips, that he was aware they'd been goofing off and aware that Tess had spaced out.

Tess sheepishly set the basket down. "It's stupid, but I'm thinking of my br—uh, one of the kids from Asera. He's often sick, and I used to look out for him a lot. He liked to talk about things he'd read and share his books with me. I thought maybe I should write him a letter." She stared down at the plants in the basket. "He's a book nerd, so he'd know about Asera's agricultural practices. I was wondering if they repurposed the weeds too."

"Huh," said Owen. "Well, probably?"

To Tess's surprise, her dad spoke up. "Yes, Asera probably does. They might even have infrastructure to optimize weed usage that we don't. They serve a dense population and are a center for technological advancement, so they have ample motivation to establish sustainable practices at scale. And yes, Tess, if this child is important to you, and you want to stay in touch, you should write him a letter soon." Those last words hung in the air. She looked up; he was sitting back, looking at her with a melancholy understanding. "Your childhood should have been here, but it wasn't, and it sounds like he was an important part of it. What's his name?"

"Erin Ruunaser."

"Ruunaser…" Her dad frowned, then shook his head. "I feel like I should recognize that name, but I don't know why."

"His dad's a bigshot emissary for Asera."

"Oh."

"He's also an asshole. Not Erin. His dad."

"I gathered. I think you said as much, that first night you were with us." Her dad leaned over and dropped a few more weeds in the basket. "If he's still stuck with a… well, a father of poor character, in a society that lets slavery slide, then I think he could use every friend he can get—even friends who are far away."

Friend… That's not exactly the right word for him. He's my brother too, even if it started for messed-up reasons.

Aloud, Tess simply said a quiet, "Yeah."

Her father rested a sympathetic hand on her arm. "Since it's on your mind, why don't you go ahead and write that letter? Owen and I can finish up here."

"Okay. Thanks, Dad."

Tess stood up, dusted her hands, and walked away, feeling a peculiar mix of guilty and relieved.

Tess sat at the kitchen table and twirled a borrowed dipping-pen, frowning and rereading the letter it had taken far too long to write.

Hey Erin,

I made it to Ironhill! I only remember small bits of the place and don't recognize a lot of faces, but I remember a few, and I'm relearning the rest. My parents—biological parents I mean—are super nice. My mom's a metalsmith, blacksmith mostly. My dad's a farmer. They've both been inviting me to do stuff with them and try out their professions, although I don't think I've been helpful. I don't know if smithing or farming is for me; I keep getting distracted… Oh! And I have more siblings! One older brother named Owen, and some really young ones! And cousins!

Ironhill is homey. Lots of stone houses climbing up the sloping hill. Tons of metalsmiths here, and some other craft workers, and a few farmers and stoneshapers. It doesn't have as much fancy tech or gilded architecture as Asera. No giant libraries, just a small public one by the village school. You'd probably hate that. But I love that it's casual and not all stuffy. I'm allowed to jump onto rooftops at night as long as I don't wake anyone up! And the people are warm and friendly, and they throw good parties.

The night I arrived, the whole extended family and neighborhood had a big feast at our house! I sat on the table (my mom PUT me there!!) and told them how I was chosen by the sky and how I busted a storm on the way here. I got a kickass title out of that, by the way: Tess Stormbreaker. I don't know if word will spread to Asera, 'cause it was a pretty small settlement I protected, but if you hear that, it's me. Wielding lightning is awesome.

Not that I've been wielding it much here. Life in Ironhill is… peaceful, I guess? It's warm, and happy, and I love these people. It's also not as exciting as wandering the wilds. It's such an anchored little place. I don't know. It's good that I came here, though. I needed to. I needed to come home 

I'm still figuring out what else I want now that I'm finally here. But if you ever want me to snatch you for a visit, just send the word.

Love,

Your sister Tess

She tried to doodle herself waving in the corner, but it came out looking weird. Like if she squinted she could tell it was a person, but it didn't look like her in any way.

Tess sighed and put the pen down. She blew carefully on the ink to get it to dry, then rolled the letter up into a tight scroll and bound it with twine. She'd give this to the courier first thing tomorrow to deliver to her little brother in Asera. 

He was still her brother. He was. Even if they'd become siblings for a shitty reason, the bond had been real. She hoped he knew that. She also hoped that her writing to him helped, somehow. It didn't make up for running off and leaving him and Al, but… well… she'd had to go. She'd needed to. And it wasn't like she wanted to totally cut Erin off, or anything like that. Tess hoped the letter would demonstrate that.

Al was probably gonna be fine. He wasn't… even with his arm loss, he wasn't physically fragile and sickly in the same way Erin was. Plus, he was older. He had more independence, spent way less time at home with their sucky dad.

Still, it couldn't hurt to write to him too…

Tess bit her lip, then grabbed another piece of stationery and started scribbling.

The guilt that had been gnawing at her didn't fade entirely, but it lessened. A bit.

Tess rotated between helping on the farm, helping with random chores around the house, and wandering the town. (Her parents entrusted her with babysitting for one day, and one day only. Apparently she wasn't supposed to go encouraging the tiny ones to clamber up the steepest rises.) Sefs crawled by. The faces grew more familiar. She learned names. It wasn't so much that she was regaining old memories; she was making new ones, getting to know these people in a way she probably couldn't have as a little kid. And they were nice. She liked them. She liked their big hearts and warmth, their steadiness and forthrightness.

But the more she got to know Ironhill, the more she felt that restless itch. It was so… so… grounded. So small compared to the rest of the world, with everyone there putting deep roots into it, spending so much time underground in the city caverns and stone houses. And yet, Tess couldn't seem to ground herself in the community—couldn't find one role or job or place in town that worked for her. She felt like she was drifting, waiting for something. Her attention kept wandering.

Owen's voice broke through her thoughts. "Hey Tess, you with us?"

Tess blinked. She'd been staring blankly at a dirt-encrusted potato for at least thirty seconds. Maybe a couple minutes. Time was a weird, wobbly thing, hard to track. Tess blinked again. "Yeah, sorry!" she said quickly. "I, uh. Spaced out for a second, there, that's all!"

Owen frowned. "You've been doing that a lot. Everything okay?"

Tess plastered on a smile. "Yup, everything's fine!" She didn't know how to explain the itch. She didn't want to sound ungrateful. She wanted to make this work. Maybe I've just gotta give it a little more time.

"Alright." Owen didn't look like he believed her, but he let it slide. Mostly. "But remember I'm here if you wanna talk, okay, little sis?"

Tess's smile turned more genuine. "Thanks, bro. I mean it."

But she still didn't talk about it. She didn't have the words. Or maybe she did, but she was scared to say them. She loved these people. That was the thing about Ironhill that felt most right: she loved the people, was glad she came here and got to know them. And she didn't want to break their hearts—or even voice the idea to herself that maybe, just maybe, something about staying in this place wasn't quite working for her.

She'd been in Ironhill for a couple of sindahlans when the sound of an alarm horn blasted through the air.

Tess, who'd been helping Old Man Haymitch haul some supplies back up from the market, stopped in her tracks. All around her, others did the same—staring up at the sky, looking to each other, going quiet. Haymitch, too, stood still. He traded frowns with Tess and shifted the crate of fresh vegetables in his arms. "That alarm means something's coming that we should take shelter from," he said. "Don't know what it is, but it'll be dangerous, so—"

"I'll give ya a lift?"

"Huh! Well, I s'pose—"

Tess needed no further encouragement. She looped an arm around Haymitch's middle, ignoring his "uff" of surprise. Lightning crackled through her channels. Her body turned magnetic. With a surge of power, Tess launched herself and Haymitch upward.

He yelled. She whooped. For an instant, she had the wind in her face and a feeling like she was weightless, cut loose, unbound from the world beneath her. She soared. She arced. If she'd launched herself maybe twice as high, she could have punched through the clouds. Which she'd totally done before. Which was cool as heck. As it was, the clouds were still kinda out of reach, even though the houses looked smaller and the people speckier, and she could see over to the next hills, and—wait, what's that giant shape flying toward us? Is that the something? That's gotta be—

Tess reached the apex of her jump's arc, and gravity reasserted itself.

She landed in front of Haymitch's house with a thump.

One of the sacks she'd been carrying had opened mid-leap and was noticeably lighter now. Tess glanced back and realized she'd scattered jerky everywhere. Oops. "Sorry about that," she said sheepishly. "I can grab 'em and—"

"Bah, forget the jerky." Haymitch dropped his crate and fumbled for his keys. "We need to get inside. Now, where'd I put the consarned—aha." Triumphantly, he jammed his house key in the lock and heaved the door open, exposing a small sitting room cluttered with a life's worth of mementos and sculptures. (Haymitch liked to sculpt in his free time, which was most of his time these days.) He turned to Tess. "You can bunker here with me, 'less you'd rather make a leap for your parents'—"

The alarm horn sounded again.

This time, a roar answered it. A roar like a thunderclap. A roar that Tess felt in her bones.

Holy shit.

The color drained from Haymitch's face, turning it from blue to nearly as grey as his beard. "Stormdrake," he said. "Oh-ho-no."

"A what—wait." Tess had heard about these things. She'd read about them in one of the books back ho—back in Asera. Dragons influenced by lightning. Not common, very big, very powerful, and, uh, capable of a whole lotta destruction. "That's a giant, metal-feathered, storm-powered fuck-you dragon, right?"

Weakly, Haymitch said, "Yep. Yep, it sure is."

Another roar split the air.

The clouds in the sky thickened and darkened. The atmosphere felt supercharged. All around them, the people of Ironhill ducked into houses and bolted doors, or peered nervously from their windows at the sky above. Tess could swear she felt the air tremble with the rhythm of the approaching beast's wingflaps. A flash of light danced amid the clouds, and the stormdrake came into clearer view—massive, shining, sparking, magnificent. Tess was transfixed. This is insane, she thought. Kind of awesome. Kind of terrifying.

"Tess," said Haymitch, "we might be a sturdy folk, but we do not want to stay out here with the giant fuck-you dragon. I mean it, kiddo."

"Right." But Tess still didn't go inside. "Is it gonna raid the herds and crops? Wreck houses?"

"It might."

"Anyone here up to chasing it off?"

"No! Tess, my girl, even our strongest stone mages can't stand against a creature like that! We're not lightning-proof!"

Right. THEY'RE not lightning-proof.

"I'm kind of lightning proof," pointed out Tess.

Haymitch stared at her. "Oh," he said. "Oh no."

"Oh yeah." Tess's heart beat fast. She'd scattered a storm god, once. That's sort of comparable to fighting a dragon, right? Probably? "I can channel and redirect lightning. And I'm the only mage in town who can do that right now." She bared her teeth in a grin and curled her hands into fists, summoning up a bravado she only half felt. People could get hurt if I don't do something. I've got to help. "So I'm gonna take a crack at it. Bet'cha I can beat that thing."

Some of the color returned to Haymitch's face—traces of cobalt blue in his cheeks. "Maybe," he said quietly. "By the gods, maybe."

The stormdrake opened its maw. Lightning streaked down and crashed into the edge of the plateau, scorching it black.

Tess winced internally. Externally, she chirped out, "That's my cue! See ya in a bit!" Before Haymitch could respond, she leapt.

She landed in the middle of the plateau, then sprang again, passing the stormdrake in midair and giving herself a chance to size it up.

Metallic, spiky feathers that gleamed like steel, sparking like weapons in the forge. Four wings, working in tandem to keep the dragon roughly in position as it glared down at Ironhill. A crown of golden horns, each bigger than Tess herself. The air around it felt intensely electric; Tess's hair stood on end, and her instincts screamed that this was something wild, primordial, even mightier than some nature gods. The stormdrake twisted to face her as she passed. Fangs as long as her forearm gleamed like swords. Lightning crackled in the back of the stormdrake's throat, searing bright and deadly. As Tess dropped past its tail, the stormdrake let loose its blast.

Acting on pure adrenaline and instinct, Tess threw her hand out and caught the attack, willing it to redirect. It was white-hot and pushy and primal as the lightning that'd Sparked her—but it yielded to her, splitting and arcing around her. It dispersed and fizzled out, harmless, and relief and elation rushed through her. I did it. I redirected it. I can handle this.

Tess's feet hit solid ground.

The stormdrake growled like she'd personally offended it.

"Sorry," she called, "but you've gotta leave!"

The stormdrake readied another blast.

This time, Tess was ready. She dodged at the last second, leaping up at the stormdrake. Her heart pounded. A thrill ran through her. She thought she saw those glowing, crackling white eyes widen in surprise as she drew level with the stormdrake's face. Tess shot it a fierce grin. Then her fist swung wild and hit it dead on the nose.

The stormdrake's shriek of pain and outrage followed her back down. It swooped after her, readying another lightning blast.

Again, Tess dodged—but this time, the dragon was lower, and Tess soared clear over its head. She let herself drop like a stone and sent a gravity-powered kick into the small of its back, driving it into the ground. The stormdrake hit soil and stone with a bone-quaking crash.

Tess didn't give it any room to recover; as it staggered to its feet, she came at it again, whacking it upside the jaw. The stormdrake whined. Tess leaped forward and grabbed one of its horns, using her momentum to yoink its head sharply sideways. It tried to shake her off. She sprang onto its back, then jumped up and delivered another kick. It tried to rise again, but she slammed into one of its wings. Its head again. Its neck. Tess was the world's most annoying, indestructible, superpowered flea, and the stormdrake couldn't catch her.

But damn did it try.

The stormdrake readied another lightning shot, even as it remained half-collapsed, struggling to drag itself upright. The atmosphere turned electric. The hairs on the back of Tess's neck rose. Town was right behind her.

The thrill of battle and magic sang in her veins. She planted her feet, and as the stormdrake fired, she punched dead-on through the center of the blast. Once again, it dispersed. Nothing burned. Nothing hurt. All she felt was tingly, and elated, and one with the lightning and power all around her, and freaking unstoppable. Tess sprang forward, then up, and whacked the stormdrake hard on the underside of its jaw.

At long last, the stormdrake hit the ground with a thud—and stayed down, exhausted.

Tess landed in front of it with her hands on her hips. She looked it hard in the eye and bared her teeth in a feral grin. She slammed her fist into her palm, hoping the meaning was clear: There's more where that came from. Clear out, buddy.

The stormdrake growled, then struggled to its feet, turned away, and flew off. It left ripples of flowing air and a charge like static in its wake.

Tess breathed out and watched it retreat toward the horizon.

Behind her, the people of Ironhill ventured out of their houses. Feet pattered on hard-packed earth and stone. Chatter floated into Tess's ear, distant and indistinct. It got closer with every passing second, though, humming with excitement, awe, and disbelief. When Tess finally turned around, she was beset by a sea of gleaming metalcaste in every shade, from rose gold to cobalt to burnished bronze to iron. Faces she'd gotten to know. Voices she'd gotten used to hearing.

Tess beamed at them and punched her fist toward the sky. She felt good. She felt right.

They whooped. They cheered. And a village's worth of voices yelled, "TESS STORMBREAKER!"

The celebrations of Tess's victory took up much of the evening. It seemed like everyone in town wanted to talk to her, congratulate her, offer her warm, tasty drinks and food and hear her recount what the battle with the stormdrake was like. Her poor old dad looked slightly shell-shocked to discover that his daughter had battled a giant fuck-you dragon, on purpose, and he started a worried spiel about being more careful, please. Thankfully, Haymitch interrupted to point out that Tess didn't have a scratch on her, and Tess reassured her dad (half truthfully) that she totally knew what she was doing, look, she had a mage type advantage here and everything! Her brother and mom didn't try to lecture her—if anything, they seemed proud—but they did hug her extra tight. A few others among the people of Ironhill—her people—gave her hugs too.

So many good huggers in this crowd. Strong and steady.

Tess loved them for it. She did.

But the merrymaking petered out and everyone retired to their beds, and Tess, once again, found herself ill at ease. She was surrounded by stone walls and creature comforts—and yet, for all the security and warmth it promised, it felt suffocating. A piece of the night-cloaked world was visible through the window, dark and mysterious and filled with promises of adventure. Cool, fresh air drifted into Tess's bedroom, calling to her like a siren's song.

Tess slipped out from beneath the covers and vaulted out the window.

She didn't go far. She didn't give in to the inexplicable impulse to race toward the horizon, or launch herself to the nearest mountain, or anything crazy like that. Nah. She just filled her feet with lightning and sprang, crackling, up onto the roof of her family's house. She sat on the edge of the cold, flat stone and hugged her knees to her chest, and she stared up at the sky.

Inky black unfurled into infinity. A river of stars streamed across it, thick and twinkling. The moons, Sword and Shield, hung overhead. Tess wondered what it'd be like to walk on the moons. Wouldn't it be cool, to leap all the way up there and walk around on them?

A whisper-shout reached her ears: "Tess!"

Tess started and peered down.

Owen leaned out his window and waved up at her.

Tess smiled sheepishly and waved back. "Sorry," she whisper-shouted. "Did I wake you?"

Owen shook his head, then motioned for her to come in.

Tess hesitated. She didn't want to go back inside. She wanted to stay out here, with the cold breeze on her skin and the open world all around her, with all its shadows and bright spots and its infinite expanse. But her eldest blood brother was down there, and she found that she kinda wanted him around too. Tess grappled with how to resolve these conflicting wants.

She soon arrived at the obvious solution.

She leaped down, grabbed Owen's arm, and asked, "Wanna look at the stars with me?"

Owen cocked his head, his brow furrowing. He seemed to read something in her face; a heartbeat later, his expression softened and he said, "Sure."

Tess eagerly tugged him out, wrapped an arm around his waist, and whisked him up to the roof in a blur of sparking power. They sat side by side, their legs dangling over the edge of the roof.

They watched the stars in silence for several minutes. It was interesting, how the sky kept changing, how things kept moving. Tess wasn't sure if the stars were flowing fast around the world or if the world was hurtling fast through the cosmos. She'd heard both theories. Supposedly, there was a lot of space up there. She itched to move like it, move with it, explore all its corners. It was the weirdest impulse. People couldn't go to space, of all places.

"So," said Owen at last. "You wanna talk about it?"

Tess blinked. "Talk about what?"

Owen gestured to the sky. "Whatever reason you have for sitting out here in the cold, staring at the stars."

"Oh. Uh. I felt like I needed some air."

Owen's brows rose. "In your room with the big window you leave open all the time?"

"I needed space," Tess amended. "Needed to feel like I was out in the open. I know it's crazy, but sometimes I feel trapped, holed up in all that stone. Like I just want to run off and see how far I can go. Know what I mean?"

He frowned. "Not really. Home just feels safe to me. Comfortable. I don't usually want to leave it, but I know I can go outside whenever I want. And so can you." He studied her. "Is this because of when you were stuck in that Aseran household? Were you cooped up all the time?"

"That's not it, I—just—" Tess groaned and threw her hands up. "Why are words hard?!"

"I dunno, sis. But keep trying." Owen gestured to the stars flowing by and the land that slumbered around them. "It's a nice night, and I'm not going anywhere."

"…Thanks. I mean it." Tess nudged his shoulder with hers, then stared at the stars, thinking. Where to start… I guess I'll just start saying stuff until the stuff sorts itself out. "I told you what it felt like when I got Sparked, right? That first night, when I told everyone how I wound up back here. How suddenly I wanted to get out of Asera, wanted to move and have adventures. I thought that feeling might go away when I got here, 'cause this is where I'm supposed to be, and here is better than there. Asera, I mean. I guess I… I'd hoped that all my memories would come back and everything would be magically familiar. That I'd slot right into where I'd fit before, and you'd have me back, and the itch would settle and fade, and everything would just… be right, I guess? Yeah. Like everything would just be perfect.

"It wasn't, exactly. I had to relearn a bunch of faces and names. Only fragments of this place are familiar. And that's okay, that's not… It's fine. You've all been patient with me as I learn and relearn stuff. I'm getting to know a bunch of people anew. I don't remember everything, and not everything's the same as when I was a kid. But I'm getting to make new memories, now. With all of you." Tess finally looked at him, offering up a lopsided smile.

Owen's face was a mess of mixed emotions. "Believe me, we're glad you made it back. We—I'm sad, I guess, that you were taken from us so early and for so long. Losing you was horrible."

A lump lodged in Tess's throat. "I'm glad I made it back to you guys."

"Me too," said Owen quietly.

Tess blinked back a stray tear and went back to staring at the sky. She didn't feel like she could face her brother for what she was about to say next. She didn't want to see his heart break. "Yeah, so, the relearning isn't the problem. You guys definitely aren't the problem. I love you. I do. But I sort of feel like I'm drifting around Ironhill, trying to find a place that fits me, that'll make the restlessness go away. And I'm not finding it." Frustration welled to the surface as Tess spoke those words. Her hands curled into fists atop the cold rooftop. "I want to want to stay! But the longer I stay, the stronger the restlessness grows." Tess paused, unsure of what to say next. She thought she had more words in her somewhere, maybe, but none of them were surfacing.

Owen spoke up, filling the gap. "We've noticed, you know. The restlessness."

Tess turned to him.

He smiled ruefully. "Struggling to pay attention to one thing. Wanting to try something different every day. You like moving. You don't seem to like routine or repetition. And Ironhill… It's definitely a place of routines and repetition, which is good and comfortable for us, but doesn't seem to be good for you."

"I…" Tess trailed off. Owen had hit the nail on the head.

He's right. Ironhill's a good, warm-hearted place, but it's just not working for me.

Tess simultaneously hated that and felt deeply, painfully grateful to Owen for saying it first. For seeing her.

Owen kept talking. "Mom and I had a conversation about it, actually. She wonders if it's because you were blessed by the sky. I don't think any of us actually knew a Stormbreaker before, personally, but all the stories describe the Stormbreakers as wanderers, so maybe it's a Stormbreaker thing?"

"Huh. Maybe." She paused. "Y'know, the closest I got to everything feeling just right here was fighting that stormdrake. Which I know sounds crazy."

"Definitely sounds crazy."

"But it was exhilarating. It felt like it lit up every corner of my brain. Sort of like getting hit by lightning did."

"…That… sounds super weird and like something I never want to experience, but I support you fully. You do you. Except don't die, please."

Tess grinned. "I haven't yet!"

Owen let out a small, shaky laugh. "Well, please keep that streak. I'd rather not lose my sister right after I got her back."

"Right." Tess sobered. "But if I heed the call of adventure and leave…"

"If you leave," Owen said firmly, "you should write and visit when you get the chance."

Tess blinked.

Owen took a deep breath. "I—look, I think I speak for all of us when I say I want you to be happy. When you were captured by those twice-born carrion-crawling slavers—" he scowled, his eyes turning hard as flint—"if I ever get my hands on them, I'll—anyway. It sucked that you weren't here anymore, but the worst, most terrible part of that was knowing you were going to be miserable." His voice cracked. "Knowing your freedom and your happiness had been ripped away from you. 

"I'm so glad you got away from them. And I'm so glad you're here. But sis, I don't want to be the reason you hold yourself back from happiness. None of us do. And if that means wandering… if that means traveling to the ends of the world…" His voice wobbled. He paused, visibly gathering himself. "You can be honest about what you want and go after it, okay? Just… whatever you do, remember us, please? Keep in touch?"

"I—yeah." Tess had to struggle to keep her own voice steady. "Yeah. Of course."

Owen managed a smile. "Good. So. What do you want to do, do you think?"

"I want…" Tess considered the ever-shifting night sky and the shadowed world all around her. "I don't know exactly where I want to go next, or where I'll end up, but I think I want to start traveling again. See the sights. Fight some dragons. Help some strangers." She smiled softly. "And then I want to tell you all about it."