Excerpt from The Quiet Warmth of Flame

Imry Mendel prayed under the light of the moon, just as he did every night. He stood with loosely shut eyes, allowing the roar of the Falls to scrape at his skin.

His mind shifted to a trance and his heart drank of the words waiting in the wings of his throat.

"Triumphant Leka," he whispered, "as I wade into the hours where your light lays in wait, ensure I do not forget the dawn. Wise Leka, as I revel in the light within me, ensure I do not misunderstand the purpose of your Blessing. Sweet Leka, as I delight in the taste of choice, ensure I do not indulge the ever-watching dark."

He waited a long moment, listening to the wind breathe through his long hair.

He opened his eyes, tearing his senses back to the Second Ring. The rusty iron railing before him dug into his skin, grinding oxidized flakes into the cracks and leeching the heat from his bones. Beyond the railing raged the unyielding crest of the Falls, dropping a heavenslength toward the oceans of the First Ring. The distant seas soaked up the black of night, melting into the horizon.

He spun on his heels, greeting the audience of his prayers: the moon and a tree. The former guest hung low in the sky, beaming of full body and yellow overtones. The latter guest stood in front of the first, a once great tree twisting out of the dirt and reaching its barren branches into the cold night air. The tree stood enshrined by a humble stone platform, which in turn stood on a peninsula in the Falls. Her winding branches sliced the moonlight with a hazy shadow and sliced the wind with a vacant whistle.

Imry nodded to the tree. It's the shortest of the wise trees, yet it still towers over any creature I've ever seen. Well, except Marama, but that doesn't count. His extension's manmade. He hopped off the platform and onto the hard-packed dirt, shrugging off the longing he felt for the old turtle. He had much to do before he could return to the Third Ring, where the goofy beast was now trapped.

Imry rounded the tree, eyes glued to its midsection. He came to a peeling opening, thrown into shadow by the moonlight. He grabbed hold of the flaky bark and scrambled up the trunk, shoving his body into the cavity. The bark snagged at his robes and pricked at his skin, but he was still able to squeeze through to where the space opened up.

He dug a vial of whale oil and a lamp wick out of his pocket, then melted the front of his chest into copper. His clothes and flesh bubbled and glowed dimly, reshaping into a copper cavity, caged at the front. He poured half the vial into the new-formed basin, then placed the wick in the burner. He morphed his fingertips into molten copper, then pinched the wick. Wisps of smoke escaped his grasp, followed by a quiet flame.

He was still entirely dissatisfied with the design, but it beat lugging a lantern around.

The orange warmth of the lantern bounced off the twisting cavity's smooth walls. He ran his fingers across the sparkling wood, frowning as it peeled the heat from his flesh. This is promising. I should've looked through great-grandpa's journals earlier. Of course, it would help if he stored them in normal places.

He moved his eyes closer to the wall. What's making it glitter? The majority of the surface was pale wood, smoothed over by the march of time, but scaly bits of silver broke up the grain, reflecting the light of his chest lantern. He picked at one of the silver specks. Feels completely flush with the wood. Guess I'll take a sample.

He morphed his fingers into shining copper blades. I doubt this'll work, but it's worth a shot. Without access to his forge to make alloys, his copper blades had only niche uses. He pushed the tips of his bladed fingers into the wood, shocked at how soft it felt. His fingers slid through to the just past the first knuckle, then stopped. He tried to yank the blades out, but they were stuck into the strange wood.

So cold…

He commanded his bladed fingers back to molten, then lurched forward as the knives slid further into the bark of the tree. The heat evaporated, and he was stuck again. He smiled. I get it. He tried to melt his fingers again, and his fingers pushed a bit further. He repeated the process over and over, letting the tree devour his bodyheat in exchange for cutting its flesh away.

His muscles ached, and his stomach growled. He fought back the sag of his eyelids, twisting his hand through the tree in a series of short-lived molten cuts. He's managed to cut a complete circle through the wood. Good, now I just need to detach the back of the core from the rest.. He braced himself for the sap to his energy, then willed his fingers to morph and turn, angling their blades upward. The tree drank away his warmth. He grunted, slicing through the back of the core. He felt the sample come loose, then tumbled backward.

He hit the uneven floor of the cavity, shivering uncontrollably. Gotta get back to the turtle before I freeze to death. The sample clanged against the ground, and the noise it made sounded completely wrong.

Imry tried to sit up and look at it, but his body felt stiff, resisting his movements. He watched his chest lantern's light warble and dance along the ceiling. Ah, of course! He resiogned his entire body into copper, soaking up the lantern's quiet warmth. Feeling returned to his limbs, and he sat up and dumped the rest of his whale oil into his chest cavity. He leaned against the wall, waiting for the metal to return to his command.

He took a deep breath, then returned the majority of his body to flesh. He used the dwindling lantern light to find the core sample. He picked up the cylinder and gasped. The speckled wood was only a thin layer on the surface, while the rest was a pristine, silvery metal.

It feels like… like it has a will of its own, like it's dying to be a different shape. Imry morphed his index finger into a glowing copper blade and shaved off the wood. The rest of the cylinder warbled, then snapped into a perfect cube. How does it watch me with no eyes?

He grinned. This is worth every moment I have to be away from Marama and Khoress and Triineth. He pocketed the glimmering cube and slid out of the cavity. He smacked into the packed dirt, then dashed toward the sea.

His young green turtleship, Babka, chirped at the sight of him. Humming with joy as Imry crawled into the quaint cabin.

"We're not leaving just yet, Babka," said Imry. He heaved a messy coil of copper wire off the cedar floor and slid it around his shoulder. He climbed back onto the shelldeck and pet Babka's waiting head. He took a long look at the Fallen Tree. "Hang in there, bud. I've got a lot of samples to take."

-Sam Svienty

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