Forged Destiny [Book 9: Ch. 6]

Here goes nothing, I thought, eyes flashing blue as I held the ironwood in both hands and Stoked the Forge.

The metal rippled.

That was the best way to describe it. As though the surface had turned to liquid for a brief moment, except that it remained solid between my hands. The surface rippled and wriggled as though it were alive, as though it were excited.

I held it a little further out, expecting branches to explode forth.

They didn't. The Ironwood was for once well-behaved.

Rather than the explosion of emotions and sensations from it, I received only one thing – satisfaction. Or maybe relief. A calm born of being content and wanting nothing more. As the porous nature of the metal brought my heat through every bit of it, the Ironwood burned hot and turned orange-red in my hands, yet never once tried to reach out for me.

"Is that it?" Weiss asked. "After all that warning, I expected something more…"

Me too. Why is it acting like this? It's not doing anything. Is it a defective piece?

I didn't think so. I could still feel the humming within it, and the heat from my hands was being drawn through it so easily – like water running down the most perfect canal without splashing on the banks. I felt like I could use less heat to achieve the results I wanted because none of it was wasted in any way. It felt so efficient, so easy.

Eager. It felt eager, like the Ironwood was helping me.

[...]

"Learn to use Ironwood and it won't be useless," Weiss said. "And look – that's a good start."

I followed her pointing finger and gasped. Blake did as well, placing a hand on my shoulder and leaning over for a closer look. The Ironwood in my hands had formed the shape of a rapier, the length and build almost perfect despite my lack of attention or even my hands moulding it. Had it grown into that shape? How? It didn't look natural. Instead of the branches I'd seen on the other, this was a sword with no branchlike or leaf growths on it. The tang was a little longer than necessary, but I could fit a hilt around it. It had even grown a handguard, and that was the only branchlike thing there was, a filigree guard fit for a fencer.

"How?" I asked out loud. "I didn't mould it. I wasn't even paying attention."

"Magic."

"That doesn't help in any way, Blake!"

"Intent-based magic," Weiss said, explaining it better, "You may have pushed your intent and shape into the Ironwood. That probably wouldn't work on any other metal, but because Ironwood is somewhat alive and sensitive to magic, it may have been able to feel that. This is just a theory of course, but we have proof Ironwood can move on its own when it comes to you." She jerked a thumb toward the table outside. "So why is it such a surprise that it could fold and forge itself if you asked it to?"

—Forged Destiny [Book 9: Ch. 6]