Tsadi Will Protect

Little Bug

Where are you, Tsadi?

I paced my forge, another incomplete message stone sitting in pieces on my anvil. It had been too long. Where were those children with their lights? I needed a light to finish the stone and send my message!

An ache went through my wrist. I rubbed it harshly. I'd never dealt with sore wrists; I took care of myself and my tools. But now I felt aches in my hands, a burning in my chest, and a damp chill in the air. What was wrong? So much was wrong but I couldn't put my finger on what.

The children were... strange. They kept showing up. I'd never had a child in my forge before, yet these caped ones kept finding it. They brought me lights, though, so I could forgive the intrusions. Their lights let me send my stones.

I turned to my anvil and struck the top of it with my fist. I'd sent so many stones. Why wasn't Tsadi answering? He'd never been out of reach before, never gone more than a day without replying. Even if it was a word or two, he always replied. Always.

Where are you, Tsadi?

I paced my forge. I rubbed my aching wrist. I failed to ignore the damp air. Sometimes when I sat still the dampness would feel like rain. The rain would stick and gather around me, submerging me, soaking through my skin until it reached that burning in my chest and spilled into my Flame and I felt only cold.

So very cold.

Where are you, Tsadi?

I sat on the edge of my anvil and fidgeted with the unfinished diamond.

"Um... hello?"

I turned. A child was here. I got off my anvil and stood before them. "Where is your light? I need it."

The child fidgeted with the edges of their cape. "I didn't come to bring you a light this time."

"What?"

"I had to talk to you."

"I have nothing to say to you." Who did this child think they were? "Give me your light, child. I must fix my stone."

"But they're not going anywhere!"

My hands curled into fists. "What are you talking about?"

"T-Tsadi hasn't been getting the—"

"Tsadi!" I stepped forward and leaned down over the child. "Where did you learn his name?"

The child backed up and almost slipped off the platform my forge sat upon. "H-he told me! And he told me your name was Teth!"

My hands shot out and grabbed up the child, who honked in alarm. I made short work of depositing them on top of my anvil and laid my hands down on either side of them. "Where is he? How long has he been there? What happened to him? Why hasn't he spoken with me? Has he forgotten?"

"Uh—"

"Is he alright? What's he been doing?"

"He—"

"Is he alone? Is his shield intact? Has he been looking for me? What has he told you?" I held my finger in front of the child's face. "Answer me in one word."

The child faltered over a few syllables before exhaling. They closed their eyes to collect themself, and a few beats of silence later, they answered simply. "Sorry."

It wasn't a question or a request for me to repeat myself. It was a downward intonation—an answer.

Sorry.

All my questions, my fears, my angers, my worries, and that's what he had to say?

Sorry.

I stared down at the child on my anvil. "Sorry."