Dio - Experiments (1)

In the days following their adventure in the forest, Dio decided to return to helping in the fields. He spent his evenings with Des and Brela in the village square, gathered around one of the fires or sitting together on their usual log a little ways off. Some days, Wes, Reab, or Yorm would join them, and occasionally Ogan, Ha, or others as well.

Brela never brought up what had happened again. She wore her usual cheerful smile, yet in quiet moments when she thought no one was looking, Dio caught a flicker of unease in her eyes. Furtive glances, as if she were searching for something that wasn’t there.

Des seemed to notice too. One morning, instead of working in the fields, they were gathering fallen plums under one of the trees when he cautiously mentioned it.

“Yes, you’re right. Something’s weighing on her. She thinks no one sees it, yet it happens often enough that I’m sure she’s hiding something unpleasant,” the farmer remarked.

Dio nudged a few dirty plums with his foot before tossing them into the noblecup beside him, already half-filled.

“Yeah, I’ve thought the same. I’ve wondered if we should ask her about it, though… I don’t think she wants us to. Who knows why,” he muttered.

Des glanced up toward the sky, as if hoping the sun would give him an answer.

“Maybe she only needs a nudge. It started after you two left, didn’t it? After that animal attacked you?”

Dio shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I think so. Still, do you really think that’s what triggered it? She said she’s healed people before, seen terrible wounds. A little bite on the finger shouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, right?”

Des nodded.

“You’re right. Even so, it started then. Maybe I should ask her…” he said, stepping absentmindedly on a plum that burst with a squelch.

When they finished work and stopped by Brela’s little garden, she waved them off the moment they asked.

“It’s nothing! Don’t worry! I’ve been thinking more than usual lately… and I’m a little sad I haven’t found my berries yet,” she said with a laugh.

Dio looked into her eyes, searching, but Brela didn’t hold his gaze for long. That didn’t ease his concern, yet he let it go. After all, what right did he have to press her?

Still, something stirred inside him, uncomfortable, like a wild animal waking from a long sleep, ready to hunt again. A feeling of… he didn’t know. Yet it had definitely been sparked by something in her eyes.

Even that evening, during his meditation, he couldn’t shake it. The warmth Brela usually brought into his mind now felt different, charged with something new. The others’ warmth didn’t help either, not even the brightness of Ray, distant but still beautiful. He tried to grasp the uneasiness, to visualize it, but nothing came. He couldn’t form anything clear within himself.

Is there really nothing in me? No Lucidity? The Sages were right. And Ray… so radiant… he thought, disheartened, as he slipped back from the numbness the next morning.

And yet… what was that feeling he’d had when the pain of the bite shot through his arm? Or when he baked those rolls? None of it made sense.

On his way to the fields, Dio stopped by Lot’s place to see what new ideas the tinkerer had come up with. Ever since building the wheel, Lot had made several improvements to the cart, something Dio had only heard about in passing. Now, so much had changed at the workshop that Dio almost forgot to breathe.

Lot had clearly moved on from the sharp-edged stones he used to laboriously carve bark and wood. Spread across the fur mat in front of his shelter lay objects of dull silver, their shapes sparking half-remembered memories.

There was a chisel, its tip still dusted with tiny wood shavings. Beside it lay a kind of saw. It was a single metal blade, but far more effective than anything else Dio had seen. And the usual flintstone wedged into a stick and bound with vines—the crude tool Lot had used for splitting—was nowhere in sight. In its place, Dio saw a small axe with a dark, matte blade and a finely crafted handle etched with a tiny sun. Though the tool looked solid, several small cracks ran across the axe head’s surface.

“Hey, Dio! You good?” Lot called out. “I see you’re admiring my new creations! Made ’em over the last three days. They’re not super durable long-term, yet who cares? Just looking at them gives me new ideas! What if I build more carts? Or even cabins? I’ve got to talk to Klan about it! He stops by often, and we brainstorm, but…”

He trailed off, out of breath from excitement.

Dio matched his energy with a wide smile and a chuckle, then asked as casually as he could, “Where did you get the metal? And how did you work it?”

Lot only shrugged. “Oh, I tinkered a bit. It sort of happened on its own. Honestly, I barely noticed! I was in such a rush of excitement once I started improving my sad little hammers…”

He ran a thoughtful hand through his gray hair, and Dio noticed a few blond strands mixed in. Or had they always been there?

Lot only waved it off. “Eh, whatever!”

He picked up the axe and gently stroked its blade, though his voice carried a hint of annoyance. “I’m sure I can make it harder and more durable eventually. For now… I’m happy with this.”

He set the axe aside and lifted the chisel instead, spinning it between his fingers with a grin.

“Can I take a look?” Dio asked, his eyes locked on the tool.

“Of course,” Lot said with a smirk, holding it out.

Dio took the chisel and was surprised at how light it felt. A solid-looking shaft of metal, a little longer than his foot, yet it hardly weighed anything. Its surface was smooth, with only a few rough patches. Dio turned it over in his hands.

So many possibilities with this… he thought in awe. Carving wood, shaping stone, chipping at ice… scraping, splitting, drilling…

His hands began to tremble slightly.

“You okay?” Lot asked, his tone suddenly more concerned.

Dio handed the chisel back.

“Yeah, I was a little overwhelmed,” he admitted, cheeks flushing.

Lot burst out laughing, a deep, booming sound.

“Yeah, I thought I needed something for scraping, splitting, or drilling,” Lot said. “And while I was working on my flint, the sunlight hit one of the fractured edges and reflected back at me. I looked up, felt the sun on my face, and started thinking about the circle you told us about—the one your Ray saw. Then I remembered chisels, see, they’re round when you look at them from the side! I worked almost until nightfall, and soon enough, the image in my mind and the flint in my hand started to merge, slowly but surely. It was wonderful!”

Dio couldn’t help but smile at his words.

“That really does sound impressive. And exciting,” he said.

His eyes drifted to a small pile of flint stones beside one of the noblecups, half-forgotten.

“What about those?” He nodded toward the pile.

Lot made a face.

“Oh, I’ll get around to working on them too. Unfortunately, I still need them. All my new tools don’t last very long.”

The frustration was clear in his eyes, and his beard twitched as he let out a sharp huff.

Dio looked again at the chisel.

“Yeah, I think I saw some cracks already.”

“They all have them. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing, though. I was so fired up when I made those tools, and if they lasted forever, I probably wouldn’t get to enjoy sharpening and polishing them so often.” He shrugged, and a quick grin flickered across his face.

Dio pointed to one of the flint wedges.

“Mind if I borrow one?”

“No, take it. At least with those, you’re not holding broken pieces five hits later,” Lot said, waving absently toward the sharp stones.

He slung the axe over his shoulder. Next to his towering frame, it looked more like a toy. “I’m heading into the forest to cut down a few trees. Just leave it back over there when you’re done.”

“Sure,” Dio nodded, picking out a flint wedge that fit comfortably in his hand.

Cutting… splitting… he thought, unexpectedly cheerful.

Lot was already striding off and didn’t notice Dio waving after him. From the determined pace of his steps, Dio could tell the giant of a man was on his way to tackle something new and important. Once Lot disappeared between two of the shelters, Dio turned and made his own way toward the edge of the forest.

There was something he’d wanted to check ever since that walk with Brela, when they’d talked about the Dream. A question that had pressed on him more and more:

How stable and consistent is the Dream in Daw, if it tends to shift and change further out?