-- Lilith POV, Skyview Monastery --

  Before John had left to have materials delivered and organize the construction of the new forge, he had given her a book about rune crafting and demanded that she will learn from the book to be ready once the new forge was ready too.

  Now the book lay on the small table in her cell and she sat on her stool, just taking in the impression.

  It was a mighty book.

  A big tome, clad in hardened leather. It smelled of times past and power. The title was impressed into the leather and written in gilded letters, "Rune Crafting", and below a symbol, likewise impressed and gilded, which she took for a rune.

  She opened the book and turned a page. The paper was strong, tough. Tougher than she was used to from the books in library, which often had rather flimsy pages. Maybe with the exception of some of the holy books, which she couldn't touch. If those had better paper, she wouldn't be able to know.

  She browsed the book without hurry. The text was hand written, with excellent calligraphy. There were full page rune illustrations drawn with ink black as the darkest night on chalk white paper. A beauty, each of them. A promise of power. She couldn't stop to be amazed by the precision of the lines. The harmony of the strokes. She felt, she could watch each rune for hours, tracing line by line, try to find the smallest imperfection, yet there were none. John must have big trust in her to leave her such a valuable book for study while he was away.

  The holy books in the library had always reminded her of angry, snarling, snappy dogs. Just waiting for her to come in range so they could snap at her. This book was different.

  It was a bear, massive, calm and strong. It would not bite. It would crush. She had to be strong, too.

  She would treat this book with utmost respect and care.

  The introductory chapter was interesting. Runes were calligraphy by the very nature. But it was important to draw the lines in the right order. It was important to draw the lines in the right direction. Start left, move right. Start right, move left. A horizontal line could be different from another horizontal line. One would not see it once the rune was done. One had to know.

  Then the weight. Start easy, end heavy. Start heavy, end easy. And more difficult strokes. Some of which she hardly could imagine ever to master. Start with the simple things, she told herself. Practice a lot. That had to be the path to mastery.

  But even with all the craftsmanship put into the lines, at this point the rune was still just a pretty picture. To give it power it had to be infused.

  The most simple but also weakest method was to put a hand onto the completed rune. Breath. Focus. Build intent in the mind. Push the intention into the rune.

  Blood was stronger than ink to hold intention, according to the book. Mix the ink with blood, so it can hold the magic better. Apparently animal blood worked, human blood too, and the book also mentioned blood of mystical creatures, whose blood gave the runes exceptional power. Some mystical creatures of which she was quite sure that they did not even exist in this world.

  Runes in metal were different though. Neither ink nor blood worked well on metal. The runes had to be carved into the glowing metal while it was still soft. In her imagination, the metal had to be wounded, so that the power of the runes could enter it. A chill ran down her spine at the thought. John wanted her to do it with her claws. In a very primal way. He had said, that made the strongest runes.

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  At that point she had put the book away and opened the wooden shutter that closed the hole in the wall that was her window. None of the windows in the monastery had glass. They all were just holes in the wall with wooden shutters to keep warm air in and cold air out. Or the other way round in summer. Most rooms were dark most of the time, just lit with candles if needed.

  If she leaned far out of her window she could see the steep, winding stairs leading down the spire. She could neither see the monastery gate, nor where the stairs eventually reached the ground. Her window was on the wrong side of the monastery. She had to try one of the windows in the library next time she was there.

  Maybe from there she could see the way that John had to take when he was coming back.

  It was evening, and it got dark outside quickly now. Soon she would not even be able to see the grassland at the foot of the spire. At night it all merged all into monotonous darkness. No one lived nearby. No one ever made a fire or lit a light. Just above, the stars sparkled brightly. Brighter than she remembered them from town. The air was clear here, cold and clear at night. And then the moon. Each day the moon rose at a bit a different location, a step further each day, till there was new moon and the cycle started anew.

  She liked watching the moon. Like she liked fire. Once the forge was done, she would have fire. She would never have the moon. It was eternal and infinite. Infinitely out of reach. It made her sad and happy at the same time. No one ever would taint the moon. It would raise and fall, become full and new moon, forever pure, forever out of reach.

  Maybe it was good this way. Something that no one could have just for them, but everyone could enjoy.

  She sighed, closed the wooden shutter and lit a candle. She remembered the first candle that superior Martins had given her. A baby fire. Candles brought a little comfort.

  The rune crafting book rested on her table. Strong and mighty. From the outside and the inside.

  She had been worried about rune inscribed weapons that others might be able to use against her.

  But only few runes were actually dangerous as it seemed. Most were supportive. Many were protective rather. She would ask John if they could try those first. Helping instead of harming. That should be safe and easy to agree too. She hoped.

  After sitting for a while just watching the cover, she opened the tome again and went back to reading. Sequences. Directions. Strokes. Intention. Infusion.

  Then she picked up the slate and the chalk and painted her first rune. Fire.

  She pressed her hand on the rune to give it power. She closed her eyes. She breathed, she focused. She willed intention into the rune.

  The slate warmed up and she smiled. Fire!

  -- John Smith, Travelling --

  It was night now but he kept on riding. Luckily the moon had risen, so he could roughly see the path. This was the most lonely land he had seen since a long time. They had banished the demon to the top of a rock in no mans land. So terrified had they been about her.

  Lilith seemed to be anxious too at times. Strong at other times. He had not made up his mind about her yet. She sure liked fire. She had held the glowing iron rod. If it had hurt her, she had not shown it.

  Demonforged runeblades. Soon they would find out if Lilith actually could do it. At least she had all prerequisites, a love for fire and enough resistance to pain so she could touch glowing metal.

  His horse was slowly trotting onwards while he was thinking.

  Another good sign in his opinion was how readily she had accepted the rune crafting tome. She had promised to read and practice. It had seemed like that was something she was used to, which didn't even need an extra thought. He had no idea though what exactly she had meant when she had said that it was a good book, while she had called the holy scriptures in the monastery library bad books. Superior Martins definitely had not liked that statement.

  Was his tome demonic? Cursed even? It had never done him any harm, so he not imagine that to be the case. Some day he'd have to ask her, what made a book a good book to her. The content it couldn't be, she had already called the book a good book before she even had opened it.

  He kept on riding into the night. If he made it to town in the morning, he could have the market crier call out his request for masons and carpenters to build a new forge in the monastery. Then he had to sleep. But with some luck, the next day he could hire the craftsmen and organize the delivery of materials. He had enough gold to pay. And now he had a demon to work with.