POV Cormac Torgir

  The summer wind blew softly through the bows of The Mother Tree as the forge burned hot. Stone work protected the wood of the tree itself from catching on fire, but the Aether infused into the stone did most of the work. Cormac Torgir drew the metal from the forge and moved it to the anvil, where he began to pound upon it. His great arm drove his smithing hammer down, sending sparks flying as metal struck metal. This was the last of it, and then it would be time to pack everything up for the final time.

  Another hour of hammering passed him by before he was satisfied. He left the relatively pure ingot of iron to cool as he began the process of removing the last of his tools. The forge itself would remain, which was something Cormac still struggled to accept. It was just a forge, yet it was also the ancestral forge of his family. He had taken steps to preserve the inherent magic of the place, ash from the forge itself, a block of stone from the foundation, and other such key items that would help him replicate the feel of the place.

  It wouldn’t be able to negate the feeling of loss entirely, but it would help alleviate it. The magic would be preserved for the future Torgirs. As he set the last box on the dirt path outside, his eyes were drawn to a chest that lay in a place of prominence where it wouldn’t be damaged. He went over to it and flipped the lid, revealing a silk-lined interior. The silk moth farmer had charged him a hefty sum due to his being a future exile, but it had been worth it. The chest itself was carved from a piece of the Mother Tree's deadwood, which she had shed ten or so years ago.

  Lying inside were three items of exquisite craftsmanship. The first was an engraved belt of leather, the leather taken from some monster slain in one of the battles to defend The Mother Tree. Cormac had worked it himself, as was tradition, and had etched the enchantments himself. Set in the center upon a silver clasp was a tiny gemstone that would power the enchantments set into the belt. The belt could be activated with a thought, and it would form a protective barrier of Aether in an instant, lasting several seconds of sustained abuse before shattering.

  The second item was a necklace of pure gold, also crafted by Cormac and etched with runes of Aether accumulation. Once activated, the necklace would draw in ambient Aether, allowing the wearer to absorb any excess. It could also be used as foci for any Workings done through it. The third and final item was a triple-braided sash of red, gold, and purple, fashioned from silk. This was the only item Cormac had not made himself, representing the joining of two people in marriage with the Maker as witness.

  Closing the lid, Cormac picked up the chest and a bag nearby before making his way into the forest. A short distance away lay a pool where he washed before pulling fine clothes out of the bag and putting them on. As he put on the fine robes, he remembered the times his own father wore the same robes, during times of great happiness and great mourning. He whispered the Rights of Wearing as he went through his own Ritual of Cleansing. This wasn’t how he had envisioned this day going in the past, but the person he was back then wouldn’t have cared for the ceremony.

  As he was now, however, Cormac found that the ritualistic nature of the Cleansing and Wearing helped center him in the moment, etching it into his mind for later memory. He caught himself staring into the clear waters of the pool, his visage clearly visible. His robe was gold and green, ironically fitting his new priestly role despite the robes having been made centuries ago. It contrasted pleasingly with his earthen skin tone, as did his dark, almost black, hair. He spent a few moments fixing said hair and grooming his beard before nodding to himself. Finished, he picked up the chest and began his solitary journey to the next destination.

  He arrived at the appointed clearing to find his party waiting for him with only Fiona missing, and that by design. Eoghan nodded in greeting while Killian stepped up in front of him, the large boggart looking the leprechaun over before nodding his approval.

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  “You look good, my friend,” Killian said, motioning for Cormac to take his place. The leprechaun did so, climbing the stairs hewn into an old stump nearby until he was standing in the center, where the rings were closer together. It was there that a small dais had been raised, and Cormac placed the wooden chest upon it. Then it was time to wait with Killian and Eoghan standing on either side of him. They didn’t have to wait long.

  When Fiona entered the clearing, Cormac felt his breath catch in his chest. He had been expecting the sensation, wondering what it would be like. He found that no words quite fit the moment. Fiona was dressed in a slim, green gown with gold accents to match her robe, looking for all the world like a fairy queen from the old stories. He was once again struck dumb in acknowledgement of what he had almost given up for the sake of greed. His eyes couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of her until Killian coughed, and Cormac jumped to hurry down the steps so he could help her up the stairs.

  There were good-natured chuckles from Eoghan and Killian, with a soft smile reserved for him from Fiona. He helped her climb the steps, and then they were before the dais. Killian went to stand behind the chest and motioned for them to move forward. As they approached, he addressed Cormac.

  “Cormac Torgir. Are you the crafter of this chest and all that is within it, save the sacred cord?”

  “I am,” Cormac answered, glad that his voice was firm and without the nervousness that he felt. Killian nodded to him with a smile before he addressed Fiona.

  “Approach, fair maiden, and behold the working of your future husband's hands that you might know what his skill has wrought for your sake.” Then he opened the chest’s lid with a solemnity that Cormac would have found humorous on any other day.

  Fiona stepped forward to look into the chest, and Cormac swelled with expectation at her wide eyes. She reached in hesitantly, obviously employing an Inheritance to ascertain details of what had been crafted. She turned to look at him, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She smiled through them to let him know they were happy ones, but he still stepped forward to wipe them away. As he finished, she turned and spoke to Killian.

  “I accept these items, crafted with love and care, for I know they represent the love and care of my husband to be. May his hands be blessed for having done such work.”

  Killian nodded, accepting the words before turning to Cormac. “The bride price has been accepted. Do you, Cormac Torgir, give your hand to be bound to these maidens? This is to be a free choice and not of compulsion. Let no one make this decision for you.”

  “I do,” Cormac said simply, gazing into Fiona’s eyes. He saw Killian nod out of the corner of his eye.

  “Do you, Fiona Glastoc, give your hand to be bound to this man’s? This is to be a free choice and not of compulsion. Let no one make this decision for you.”

  “I do,” she said, her eyes not leaving Cormac’s. There was a rustle as Killian drew the sacred cord from the box. Motioning to Eoghan, who stepped forward to grasp one end, the two began to wrap the opposite ends of the cord around Cormac’s right hand and Fiona’s left. As they did so, they both spoke.

  “As those who witness, we bind these two. Two now become one, both children of The Mother. We two have spoken, we two have bound. Let their joy go forth and resound.” So saying they stepped back a pace and beheld their friends, still staring into each other's eyes. Cormac didn’t know how long it had gone on before he heard Killian grunt. “Kiss her, ya dolt.”

  Blushing despite himself, the leprechaun used their bound hands to draw Fiona close before kissing her softly, using his left hand to cup her face. As they pulled apart, both blushing like far younger fairies, Killian let loose a roar of approval. Cormac turned to find a broad grin on his friend’s face and chuckled. Eoghan came forward to clasp hands with him and give a side hug to Fiona, silent as usual, though with a big smile on his face. Killian simply hugged both of them at once, his large frame making it easy to do so.

  Cormac smiled to himself as he took in his new wife and his two friends. The fact that they would be going with him into exile made the whole ordeal seem doable. He knew that soon he would be face-to-face with an angry dungeon, but even that felt far less daunting than it had a moment ago. Smiling, Cormac led the way down the steps, while Killian picked up the bridal chest and followed. The leprechaun took in everything and committed it to memory. It wouldn’t be long before he would be too busy to relax or celebrate, but today, of all days, Cormac was going to do just that.