Stone blades, clay monsters

“What…?” she heard Rutile whisper in horror.

Opal couldn't blame him: after all, she was still staring in shock at her arm, as if it wasn’t even an actual part of her body.

His breath hitched. “Opal, be careful!” he shouted.

She lifted her gaze, seeing that all the remaining monsters had decided to attack her together, and didn’t give herself time to think: she didn’t like that arm, it felt alien- worse, it felt wrong-, but at the very least it was convenient, so she used it against those creatures, taking Ametrine as a model and slashing their throats.

When they crumpled on the floor, however, she did too.

“Opal…?” Rutile murmured, getting closer. “Opal, please…”

She shook her head, her eyes still transfixed on her arm. Even if it was still around her, the fight seemed far, out of focus. “How did this happen?”

He tried to start a sentence a few times, coming up short, and in the end he just gave up. He crouched down next to her, being careful not to let his expensive clothes touch the ground, and looked at her with his lips pursed. “Listen, Opal, it doesn’t matter now.”

“But it does-”

“No. Now, what matters is that we get away from here.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing that she could just teleport home; in that moment, however, even getting swallowed up by the earth sounded like an acceptable alternative. Nevertheless, when, to her distant surprise, the ground under her legs began to literally tremble and fissure and Rutile started shaking her shoulder with a litany of “go back, go back, go back”, she forced herself to calm down.

The civil servant took a deep breath and let go of her. He must’ve had a million questions whirling furiously in his head, but probably decided that was the time to prioritise other problems. “… try and do that with the arm” he said.

She turned to him, utterly lost. “What?”

“You can…” He gestured vaguely at her and her immediate surroundings, his brows pinched. “… do magic by simply thinking about it, can’t you? So, make your arm go back.”

He said it like it was easy, but maybe it really was. She focused back to the arm-turned-blade, pursing her lips in determination, and willed it to return to normal: it didn’t happen right away, but, slowly, slowly, the edges became less sharp, the stone transformed into skin, and the blade returned an arm. She took a shaky breath, still in shock, and looked at Rutile. “I… I-” She should’ve tried to explain, right? Or thank him, at least. Right? So why couldn't she speak?

Rutile just shook his head, though, seeming relieved. “Later. Now let’s go.”

She couldn't hide that she was surprised, but nodded and stood back up, with the civil servant imitating her.

In the square, the fight was still on, but between Celsian, Ametrine and everybody else it was mostly under control.

It was in that moment that her friend turned to her and Rutile; she must’ve seen something on Opal’s face, though, or in the way she held her newly human arm, because she took an impromptu decision. “Ametrine, we’re getting away! Now!” she shouted over the square, but didn’t wait for an actual answer. The knight had just the time to briefly glance behind her shoulder before she was caught by one of Celsian’s stone branches and dragged next to her.

“Idiot, what do you think you are doing, we have not finished yet-” She dug her heels in, but it was useless.

“Come on, at this point the city guards will be able to hold their own.” Celsian rolled her eyes. “Plus, if they’re busy, they won’t have time to follow us.” She then grabbed Ametrine’s arm and started running away.

The latter wasn’t thrilled at the idea, but didn’t take long before apparently noticing Opal’s deal – whatever it was that they saw – and sharing the thief’s perspective. She sighed. “… For once, I imagine you are right. We have to get away.”

“Happy you agree.”

Ametrine shook the other’s hand off, muttering a nervous “Stop touching me, by the way”, but still stayed close to her.

In a few seconds they joined Opal and Rutile, and Celsian took Opal’s hand, sparing a moment to smile at her, as if it was the most normal and instinctive thing in the world, as if nothing was wrong. Opal felt a little less horrible. They ran as fast as they could, leaving behind them the noises and sounds of battle of the square.

When they reached the outskirts of the city, however, Rutile abruptly stopped in his tracks, panting and placing his palms on his knees.

Celsian raised an eyebrow, amused. “Hey man, don’t tell me you’re already tired.”

“No, I- well, yes, but-” He took rapid gulps of air. “I think… I think I’ll stop here.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?” He breathed deeply, straightening up and adjusting his glasses. “My whole life is in Smaragdos, I’m obviously not leaving it.”

Celsian’s eyes widened, her fingers raising to touch her mouth. “Ah, I understand.” After a second, however, a smile split her face and her gaze brightened. “It means that we can also do a kidnapping!”

Rutile took a step backwards, holding up his palms. “No, wait a minute, I really don’t think that’s the conclusion you should’ve reached-”

In true Celsian fashion, she completely ignored his complaints. “Ametrine, grab him!” she excitedly exclaimed, pointing at him.

“Why do you even sound so happy about it?!” he said, at the same time as the knight replied with a scathing glare in her direction and a “Do not tell me what to do” and hauled him up on her shoulder like an expensive sack of potatoes, beginning to run again. “I cannot believe I am actually participating in a kidnapping” she continued to mutter, shaking her head dejectedly.

“Don’t look at it as a kidnapping, consider it as a… new experience” Celsian proposed. Quite unhelpfully, if the grieving expression on Ametrine’s face was anything to go by.

“Hey!” Rutile tried to free himself, but failed miserably. “Let me go!”

“Sorry man, nothing personal, but you see, we still need information from you.”

“Ah” he sighed, elongating the syllable in a dramatical lament. “I really, really hate my job.” His head slumped.

“Hey, look at the bright side.” Celsian smiled. “If you’re absent from work because you’ve been kidnapped, no-one can fault you for taking a longer break. It’s like an impromptu vacation, with the difference that you won’t have to explain anything to anyone!”

Opal could see that Ametrine was this close to abandoning the plan – that she had begrudgingly accepted as a compromise with the thief, if the legal way didn’t work –, the consequences be damned, but Rutile stole a march on her by speaking first. “… wait a second” he murmured, stilling, a calculating look in his eyes. It seemed like he had just had a revelation of some kind. “You might be onto something.”

“… I am?” she replied, surprised.

Ametrine slightly turned to stare at him, incredulity painted all over her face. “She is?”

“As long as I’m kidnapped, I can’t return to work” he continued, clamping his palms together as if he’d just won an important sum at the lottery. “You know what? This is perfect, actually. I’m in.” He turned to Celsian, with one of the most serious expressions that Opal had seen since her arrival in that world – and she had met knights like Sir Petrus and Ametrine, she knew what she was talking about –. “If I give you all the information you want, can I stay longer with you all?”

The thief clapped her hands, her face the portrait of joy. “Oh, a plot twist! A role reversal, even! It hadn’t happened to me yet, so exciting!”

“Just to be certain, is that a yes?”

“Sure it is, buddy!”

Ametrine looked first at one and than at the other, horrified. “You are both crazy” was her final verdict, that was uttered before she stopped running and let Rutile go.

He had the reflexes and agility of a boulder, so he just fell on the ground with a yelp and an inelegant thud, like the sack of potatoes that the knight had been treating him as. “Hey!” he complained, getting up and immediately checking on his clothes. “Be more careful, do you have any idea of how much this outfit costs?”

Ametrine looked at him with an absent look in her eyes, as if she was considering the pros and cons of doing something that wasn’t chivalrous at all, but Celsian barged in. “Hahaha, I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to some dust dirtying your clothes, buddy.”

He took his head between his hands. “I’m already regretting my choice.”

“Too late, my friend!”

In the meantime, Opal had recognised the spot of the forest they were in as the one where Ametrine had hidden her armour, so, while the knight searched for it, she let herself fall on a patch of grass and take a deep and stabilising breath.

Celsian, predictably, was the first one to imitate her. "Hey” she said, slightly bumping their shoulders together. She was smiling, but her eyes held worry. “… Are you okay?”

Opal folded her legs and hugged them, putting her chin on her knees. “I…” How should she have answered? With an untrue albeit reassuring yes, I’m fine? But Celsian would’ve probably spotted the lie anyway, and, besides, she didn’t deserve that: someone who had only ever been genuine and open with her deserved honesty in return. “… I don’t think so.”

“What happened back there?” the thief asked gently.

“I’m… not sure.” She clenched her forearm, the one that had transformed into a blade. It was round and soft and human again, as it always should’ve been, but she had the impression she could still see and feel the skin being made of stone. “My arm, it…” she trailed off, shaking her head. Her gaze wandered and fell on Rutile, though, so she spoke to him. “… you were there. What do you think it happened?”

He seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I…” He nervously readjusted his glasses.

“I know you have at least a few theories.”

He sighed, but it didn't take long for him to give up. “… The news travel fast, especially the ones that are royally issued, and the rumours travel even faster, so of course I’ve heard of them too. Of Celsian Felspat, the jewel stealer, kidnapping the new Saviour and leading a knight commander astray.” While he spoke, he looked first at the thief, then at Opal and finally at Ametrine, who was now wearing her armour again. “I suppose those weren’t simply rumours.”

Celsian rolled her eyes, amused despite everything. “Let’s just say that there are grains of truth.”

Rutile’s squeezed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He sighed. “... So, of course, when I witnessed Opal using her magic on the ground for the first time, I could only draw the obvious conclusion, that is, that she is the new Saviour everyone is talking about, but then…” He glanced away, shaking his head.

“Then what?” the knight questioned, her eyes piercing.

Opal hugged her legs tighter, fearing the next part, even though she was the one who had asked the civil servant to give his opinion. She probably wouldn't have been able to recount what had happened without crying, though, so she let him continue.

Rutile looked at her, unsure. “… then she transformed her arm into a blade made of stone. And that… Opal, I’m sorry, but that isn’t a power of the Saintess. That’s a power of the Golem.”