The Union of Iron and Spirit

    The entire cave was filled with the clinking of hammers and the trembling hum of metal. When Moris’s drilling machine broke through the final barrier, fresh air rushed in, and light poured through. The elves fell silent for a moment, then burst into cheers and applause. Lukas: “Master! We did it! Fresh air! The mine is open!” Moris (smiling): “Well done! Thank you, all of you. We’ve come this far thanks to your efforts. From here on, I’ll continue alone.” The elves looked at each other in confusion. Kail: “But Master, will you work alone? It’s too heavy a task…” Moris: 

   “Don’t worry. What comes next is the work of metal and magnetism. You command magic — I command metal.” He spread his palms and drew symbols of power, activating his magnetic spell. The metal fragments embedded in the tunnel walls began to tremble and lift into the air. A loud “zzzzzz” sound echoed as hundreds of iron pieces spun in midair. Moris closed his eyes tightly, adjusting the energy field in his palms. The metals began to take shape — long, straight, gleaming rails. Elf guard: “This… isn’t pure magic. It’s something else…” Lukas (whispering): “This is science.” The metals connected along the tunnel with perfect precision, fusing together seamlessly. Each joining point emitted a sharp “shhh-t!” sound that echoed down the tunnel. Within a few hours, Moris had completed the entire railway. Moris (sighing): “Now our mine and our forest are one system. This is the root of freedom’s path.” He walked along the rails and summoned five mine carts from his storage spell, linking them one after another. Queen Mia (approaching): “What is this device?” Moris: “Ore transport carts. With these, we can move iron and other metals quickly.” The elves looked on in amazement as they climbed into the carts and headed toward the mine. 

   Hours later, the forest clearing was piled high with bags of iron, copper, silver, and tin. The elven forges were busier than ever. In the glow of red flames, the sound of hammers rang out, and sparks flew from molten metal. Kail: “Master, you said you’d teach us not to forge swords but something completely different?” Moris: “Yes. You’re fighting with ancient weapons. But now, times have changed.” He placed the disassembled parts of an AK-74 on the table. Moris (thinking): “This is Kalashnikov’s creation. Thanks to it, I survived. It is the symbol of science, willpower, and national freedom.” The elves fell silent, fascinated by each piece. Lukas: “Master, every part seems to speak differently…” 

   Moris (smiling): “Exactly. This weapon isn’t just metal — it’s discipline, calculation, and science. I’ll teach you now.” The scene in the forge was filled with the clatter of hammers, the smell of hot iron, and the steam of oiled metal — the true spirit of industry. Moris stood beside an elven blacksmith, showing how to fit each part precisely, how to pull the spring, and how to attach the magazine. Moris: “Remember, this isn’t just a weapon — it’s responsibility.” Moments later, Moris took an AK-74 and stepped outside. Everyone watched silently. He raised the rifle and aimed. The sharp “TRAK-TRAK-TRAK!” sound echoed through the forest. Birds scattered in fright. The elves clapped and cheered. Moris (laughing): “Quality is excellent. Now I’ll teach you something even more important.” He brought out several boxes from his storage spell and placed them on the table. 

   Lukas: “What’s that, Master?” Moris: “Gunpowder. Very dangerous. A single spark, and everything explodes. So be careful.” Kail: “Master, are we to make it ourselves?” Moris: “Yes. I trust you with this task. You have courage and skill.” Moris carefully explained how to assemble a bullet — the casing, primer, and powder. Lukas: “If you show us once, we’ll remember it all.” Moris: “Good. But remember, this is the fragile balance between science and life.” The elves began their work. New sounds filled the forge — it was no longer just a workshop but a production center. Then Moris approached 

 Queen Mia to report. Queen Mia, in a calm voice, asked how the work was progressing. Moris replied that everything was going well and that once they practiced handling weapons, they’d be ready. Mia looked at him: “That’s good news, but how long will it take?” Moris: “About a week. Most of your elves are already skilled marksmen, so learning to shoot won’t take long. Don’t worry.” Mia looked amazed: “Only one week until our step toward freedom?” Moris: “Yes, my queen. The war is coming soon. Be ready.” 

  Queen Mia silently nodded. Moris left the hall and headed to his laboratory. As dusk fell, he entered his lab. Three blueprints lay on the table. Moris (whispering): “These… these three weapons that unite science and magic will bring us a new future.” At that moment, perched on a tree outside the laboratory, was Gurgaria’s violet-eyed crow. Its eyes glowed faintly, observing everything. Then, suddenly, it took flight, vanishing into the night sky. Night. Darkness devoured the heavens. Through the thick clouds, the moon’s light barely pierced. Then, the sky was split by the beating of enormous raven wings. Upon its back rode a figure in a black cloak — Gurgaria. The crow’s violet eyes glowed as it soared over the night forest. Below, between thousands of grass blades, lay the village of the beast-eared — low houses, tents of animal hides, fires burning, smoke curling into the sky. The crow descended and landed in the central square. Villagers stopped and gasped in unison. “Shaan velin! Shaan mor’velin! Gurgaria velin!” (Gurgaria came, the shaman came, the great shaman came.) Their language was deep, growling, resonating with nature itself.

   Gurgaria stepped down from the crow, flicked his cloak, and pulled back his hood. His violet eyes blazed, and his wolf ears gleamed in the moonlight. His black hair fell over his shoulders, slicing through the silence around him. From the front approached a wolf-eared warrior draped in wolf fur, his shoulders broad and muscles hard as iron. The spear in his hand gleamed in the moonlight. Warrior: “Velir mor’shaan! Enar talin mir’a len thirra.” (Welcome, great shaman! The people have been waiting for you.) Gurgaria (calmly): “Miraen. Ardon en’thal vel’sir en mor’ren.” (Thank you, Ardon. I must speak privately with the king.) The warrior nodded and made way. Gurgaria walked toward a grand hall made of great beast bones in the center of the village. As he entered, the air grew heavy, thick with the smell of smoke. On the stone throne sat the king of the beast-eared — Ragnar. A bear pelt draped over his shoulders, teeth and bones hung around his neck, his brown eyes burning with intensity. Ragnar (raising his voice): “Welcome, Shaman Gurgaria. It’s been a long time. How are you?” 

  Gurgaria (bowing): “I am well, great Ragnar. I bring you special news.” The king leaned forward, intrigued. Ragnar: “News, you say? Why that calm look on your face? Has the Ostanian army weakened?” Gurgaria (smiling): “No, my lord. But I have found someone who can aid us — someone through whom we can free our enslaved kin.” The hall filled with whispers. Ragnar’s face hardened with suspicion. Ragnar: “A human, you say? What are you talking about, shaman?” Gurgaria: “He too fights against our enemy.” His words struck like a spear. 

  The warriors in the hall darkened with anger. Ragnar (voice rising): “Hey, shaman! What are you saying? You want us to join with a human? Have you forgotten what they did? They enslaved our children, burned our lands, murdered our mothers!” His voice thundered through the hall. Silence followed. Gurgaria (firm but calm): “No, great Ragnar. I have not forgotten. But the man I saw is different. His heart is pure, his mind clear. I have watched him for a long time — among the elves, and when he was alone. He desires freedom as we do.” A warrior, furious, stood up. 

  Warrior: “The shaman has gone mad! Humans cannot be trusted!” Gurgaria (gazing firmly): “I am not defending anyone. I am speaking truth. This man is extraordinary. Beside him walks the sacred Levian tiger.” The hall erupted in shock. Murmurs filled the air. Ragnar (moving forward): “What did you say? The Levian tiger? It never submits to man. It bows only to one pure of heart.” Gurgaria: “Exactly. That’s why I believe in him. He can bring us a new era. In his hands lies both science and magic. 

  If we unite, we can end the tyranny of the Ostanian kingdom.” The hall fell silent again. All eyes turned to Ragnar. The king rose, leaning on his great stone sword, and stepped closer to Gurgaria. Ragnar (sternly): “Your words are intriguing, shaman. But trusting a human is the hardest choice for me. I will think on it. You shall have my answer at dawn.” Gurgaria (bowing): “My lord, take your time. But remember — sometimes one moment’s decision changes a thousand years of fate.” Gurgaria slowly turned and left the hall. Above the village, the moonlight shone again as his giant crow descended from the treetops. 

 The shaman mounted its back. Gurgaria (whispering): “The fate has begun to move, Moris… a storm greater than you imagine is coming.” The crow spread its vast wings and soared into the night sky. The moonlight reflected in its violet eyes as it disappeared beyond the horizon.