The days blurred together.
Mornings were spent with weapons—sparring, drilling, refining. Afternoons were for the forge, where Cane and Philas worked side by side, crafting not just metal, but mastery.
Cane's parents had moved into one of the empty houses—each one built by Philas long ago, hopeful that his family would someday return to the Iron.
At night, they sat around the hearth. His parents listened, wide-eyed, as Cane told them stories of the Academy, the Defiant, of shadow wolves and stolen ships and secret forges.
He stayed until the pain of their loss no longer lingered in his heart.
After a particularly grueling spar, Cane wiped sweat from his brow and asked, "How long have I been here?"
Philas smirked. "Three hundred days."
Cane blinked. Panic flickered across his face.
Philas chuckled. "Relax. On the outside, it's been one."
Cane exhaled. "Then it's time."
Philas nodded. "Let's have some of your mother's apple pie first. Say your goodbyes right."
They fished in the brook, just like Cane used to as a boy.
They ate apple pie, still warm from the oven, his mother's old recipe unchanged by time or magic.
And when it was time to go, there were no tears—only smiles, only strength.
Cane met with Philas one last time before departing.
"If Jonas Ironfist is alive," Philas said, "he's the priority."
Cane nodded. "I have a team. We'll find him."
"Good. Then the villagers. Bring them home if you can."
"You think they were taken because of the cold iron spirals?"
Philas shook his head. "Unlikely. More probable that someone noticed a body not decaying as expected. If they're being studied—or worse—bring back what matters."
"You don't think they're… cutting them up?"
Philas didn't flinch. "If they are, it doesn't change the mission. The cold iron is in the right forearm. Even if that's all that remains—bring it."
Cane grimaced. "That'll be... hard."
"You're not using your storage ring anymore," Philas reminded him. "Your Cold Iron ring can hold anything—dead, living, gear. Use it."
Cane looked down at the simple ring. It pulsed softly, a steady heartbeat of metal and memory.
He took one last look at the valley—at the sanctuary of Cold Iron and the lives it had preserved.
"Will you teach me how to make a place like this someday?" he asked.
"When your aspect core is fully formed," Philas said. "Then I'll show you."
He stepped forward and hugged his grandson. "I'm proud of you, Cane. Now go. Show them what the Ironborn are made of."
Cane stepped back, gaze sharp. "What if they move Jonas? Or the villagers?"
Philas smiled faintly. "We're linked now. Enter your ring, and we can commune. I'll watch the Book. I'll let you know."
Cane nodded once.
Then he turned toward the exit—and the world beyond.
Cane crawled out of the cave, blinking against the sun.
Nearby, Pudding and Moxie were feasting on a mountain goat—dragged from some distant peak to keep an eye on the cave entrance. Loyal to the end.
He scratched behind Moxie's ears as the shadow wolf padded over, tail wagging. "It's time to go."
The return to Loramo went without incident.
He stored both companions in his ringworld and dropped off the gray pony at the stables with clear instructions: donate this angry horse to someone who needs it more than I do.
Still, he felt it—that subtle itch between the shoulders.
Someone was watching.
"CANE!"
A blur of motion tackled him.
Neri's arms locked around his torso, her dark blue hair tickling his face. Her breath was warm, sharp with rum.
"You seem more… exuberant than usual," Cane muttered into her hair.
Neri blinked—then narrowed her eyes, crossed them, and hiccupped. "We've been waiting… patiently."
"And drinking," he said, nose wrinkling. "How much did you have?"
Neri held up one finger. "Just one. Someone toasted you. I had to."
Cane laughed. "One, huh."
"It's true," Captain Rhiati said, stepping into view. She wore brown trousers tucked into unmistakably pirate-styled boots. Her wide-brimmed hat sat low over pale blonde hair.
"Mermaids can't handle human liquor. Especially rum."
Neri, still holding up her one finger, nodded solemnly.
"I'm ready to return," Cane said, offering Neri an arm. She accepted it happily, resting her head on his shoulder.
"We'll leave at dawn," Ria said. "I'll have the crew onboard by 2000."
She tapped her psi-rune to broadcast the order, then eyed Cane again.
Something about him had changed. He still looked like Cane—but the soft edges had hardened. Something about him now felt... formidable.
Cane's gaze lifted.
A figure watched him from a curtained third-story balcony—two windows from the corner.
He merged with his ringworld.
And ran.
Up the hotel stairs, down the hall, through the door with a burst of starlight. One clean strike to the neck dropped the spy. Without hesitation, he tossed her into the ringworld.
Gone.
Back below, Ria's hand was already on her sword. "Where did Cane go?"
Neri blinked slowly, still buzzed and not particularly useful.
Then Cane reappeared in a blur of motion.
"Let's head to the ship," he said calmly.
Ria narrowed her eyes. "Did you just shift?"
Cane smiled. "Something like that."
They returned to the Starsong, now under Maude's care with a skeleton crew. The ginger leaned on the railing, grinning as Cane guided the weaving mermaid up the gangplank.
"Cane's back—with a drunk mermaid," Maude laughed, clearly hoping for a splashy stumble.
Fate didn't oblige her.
Cane considered tossing the spy into the brig, but Philas's lessons held firm. Spies could be tracked, even remotely controlled. Some shared senses with their masters. And time inside the ringworld remained frozen.
Safer in stasis. For now.
Of course, if she was just people-watching... I'll let Uncle sort that out.
"Hmm?" Ria asked as she held open the door to Neri's cabin. "Did you say something?"
Cane shook his head, still trying to detach the clingy mermaid.
Neri let herself fall onto the bed, eyes drooping. "Cane… let's go swimming. You still have the suit, right? We could… explore the depths… together…"
Cane glanced at Ria. "She going to be alright?"
Ria smirked. "It wasn't even a full drink. Just a sip."
Cane leaned against the rail, staring out at Loramo Harbor.
The last time he'd stood here, it was with Jonas. They'd boarded the Veda together—bound for the capital. Cane was set to earn his journeyman title. Jonas was being promoted to craftsman.
"All this time…"
"What's wrong?" Captain Rhiati appeared beside him, resting both hands on the rail. "You seem lost in thought."
"I was." Cane's eyes lingered on the town below. "I got it wrong, Captain. You remember how I ended up on that slaver ship?"
"You were found on a dinghy, dying of thirst," Ria replied softly. "The Veda was attacked by pirates."
Cane nodded. "Do you remember I was traveling with my master?"
"Jonas," she said. "You mentioned him once."
"I found out he's alive." Cane's voice wavered. "He's been a prisoner of the Zuni Empire this entire time—while I've been flourishing at the Academy, moving forward like nothing happened."
Ria blinked, the news hitting hard. "Alive? You're sure?"
"Yes. He's at the Western Front."
Without hesitation, Ria squeezed his shoulder. "Neri and I will take shore leave. We'll help you get him out."
Cane smiled, touched. "That's generous—but I can't accept."
Ria raised an eyebrow. "Don't think we can handle land ops? We've pulled off plenty."
"I know," Cane said, placing an arm around her shoulders. "But I have a team. We'll handle it. Still—thank you."
Ria snorted. "I should've kept you on the Defiant. Trained you right. Made a proper sailor out of you."
Cane laughed. "I'm grateful you didn't."
"Well then," she smirked, "for that slight, we're taking the long way back."
"Is there even a long way?"
"There's always a long way," she said, nudging him. "And look who's finally up."
Neri emerged from below deck, hair tousled, shirt half-untucked, and barefoot. But her eyes were clear.
She ignored Ria entirely and went straight to Cane, hugging him. "Sorry if I did anything embarrassing."
"You didn't," Cane said, smiling. "I was just catching up with the Captain."
Ria folded her arms. "Cane found out Jonas is alive."
Neri's seafoam eyes widened. "That's wonderful news. Do you need help?"
"Says he's got it covered," Ria added, dryly. "Doesn't need us."
Cane rolled his eyes. "That's not what I said. Are you trying to get me in trouble?"
Neri looked between the two, amused. "Someone want to catch me up?"
Hours later, Cane lay on deck, staring up at the stars from his usual spot—blanket bundled, body loose, eyes thoughtful.
The sky erupted softly as his aspect trinity shimmered to life: the blue star hovering steady, the white and black rotating in balance.
"You guys used to be up there," Cane whispered. "Miss it?"
The stars didn't answer—but they hovered closer, shining just a little brighter.
He gazed upward, thoughtful.
The black star still puzzled him. Philas hadn't been surprised—only said that aspect colors were usually random, but not always.
Cane sighed and closed his eyes, letting their light lull him to sleep.
They remained there above him—watchful, patient, eternal.