"Okay Viridian, let's forget about weapons for today... what about a hammer? We could use an extra one of those."

  A hammer? Interesting, I hadn't thought about trying that shape yet.

  The day began bright and sunny, ideal conditions for the people of Quinn's Peak to clean up the messes made by the Py'riel. We were showered in greetings from passers-by the moment we left our doorstep, which wasn't new in and of itself, but the words carried more than just friendly courtesy this time... there was a hint of reverence that reverberated in every 'good morning' directed our way as well. Janine beamed as she waved back along the way, but she didn't linger to chat with her neighbors. She had a busy day ahead of her.

  Janine set me down on a makeshift workbench outside the library, next to the tool I'd been tasked to replicate. The library had suffered minor damage to the roof and facade in the attack, but otherwise remained intact. Most of the damage around town looked simir, requiring Quinn's Peak only to repair instead of rebuild this time. And while nobody would have bmed Janine for sitting those repairs out, after a day to rest—slept for nearly all of it, entirely deserved—she chose to rise at dawn to volunteer wherever she could.

  I knew I also had to lend my own help with whatever Janine asked of me. The idea of being smmed against nails all day didn't thrill me, it cked the valiant and courageous essence that encapsuted our monster-sying efforts, but it was important nonetheless. Janine's eagerness to participate in the town's healing felt noble in its own right—despite our role evolving from spectacle to structural, we still had a way to help others who needed it. In a Crimson Archer story, there'd be parades by now, perhaps someone kisses someone else, and the search for a new adventure began anew. When that spectacle ended, the archer vanished. Maybe there's more to being a hero than the stories would lead me to believe; maybe the true heroic work continues after 'the end'.

  ...Right, the hammer. Okay.

  Earlier that day, at Janine's request, I tried to replicate other styles of swords, and even a shield, with moderate success. Now outside the frenzy of the battlefield, the sensations and mechanisms of this transformation became more clear to me. I could use the ethereal green mist that swirled out from my core to 'grab' at the metal that encased it, tugging and pulling it into new shapes like a gssblower pulling molten sand into a masterpiece. I focused on the hammer, examining every surface and bend, before I grasped the mirror-like metal and stretched it outward once more, crafting a crude but functional replica of the tool before me before I let go with the mist, and my mysterious alloy retained its shape, still harboring my green essence on the sides. The more shapes I could make, the more I could save an adventurer a whole backpack's worth of weight!

  "So, what, it's not a magic sword? It's a magic whatever-you-want?" Another worker, a stout and sturdy woman named Sandra who had taught Janine nearly as much about carpentry over the years as Warren did about Passguards, approached the workbench from the other side. "That's not bad, I could use one of these myself. Got any extras in the magic shop?"

  "Sorry, we're fresh out," Janine said, reaching toward me.

  Sandra was quicker though. She picked me up in one hand alongside the original hammer in the other, testing each of us with a swinging motion in the air. "Hah, are you serious? It's like a toy, there's no weight to it! Dear, oh dear. How'd you save the town with this little thing, huh? Feels like it might crumple like tinfoil the moment you so much as tap a nail! Not like my Betty here, she's got some swinging heft to her, you know."

  How rude! I didn't like all this judgment all of a sudden. Like a disturbed snail, I withdrew inward, popping back into a sphere and out of Sandra's hand, nding on the workbench.

  "Shy too, huh?" Sandra said with a chuckle.

  Janine reached over to me and picked me back up, gripping me tight to ward off any other grabby hands that might pass by; I preferred the more familiar embrace. "Viridian and I just work best together, I think. Besides, uncle Tobias says lots of relics choose who they respond to, it's like a security measure in a way. We can't have powerful things like the Viridian Sphere falling into the wrong hands."

  Crunch. Having lost all interest in the conversation, Sandra bit into an apple as she looked at the bckened wood along the side of the slightly scorched library. "Uh huh. Are you taking the roof or the front? I'll be so kind as to let the hero choose today."

  "Oh, uh, the roof. I think I'll have better luck with my magic hammer than you might expect up there."

  Sandra spped Janine on the back as she passed by on her way to pick up her tool belt. "Hey, I won't stop you, you know where to find the real hammers when you need one."

  How insulting! I'm a magic relic! Even though I'm light, I can magically induce enough momentum that—forget it. Even if she could hear me, she'd already turned her attention to cutting away the charred corner of the library. My ethereal tendrils gripped and kneaded at my spherical metal exterior in annoyance, slightly distorting its shape and causing me to wriggle around atop Janine's palm in the process.

  As she walked toward the dder leading to the roof, Janine couldn't help but smile at my pathetic protest, but she knew just how to calm me down again. "You don't need to impress her, Viridian. We just need to get the job done, and if we can handle the Py'riel then we can handle anything the roof throws at us. Now, think you could manage the shape of a handsaw?"