December arrived with a heavy frost on the windows and a sky the dull, oppressive colour of old pewter. The sprawling gardens turned a desolate grey, and the edges of the lake finally froze into jagged sheets of ice.
Every morning, thick frost crept across the nursery windows, blurring the view of the grounds into a white, featureless smear. The fire in the morning room burned much higher now, and the candles remained lit long past breakfast to combat the winter gloom.
Morwenna wore thicker robes of dark wool fastened with silver buttons, and her hair had grown noticeably longer. The white sections still caught the pale light, and the silver streak at her temple remained as bright as ever.
She ate her breakfast quickly, focusing on the rice, the grilled fish, and a bowl of clear soup. Tilly had even added a side of dumplings, and she ate those as well. The house-elf had started leaving mugs of hot chocolate on her nightstand each morning, which she drank while dressing.
Jane watched her daughter over the rim of her teacup. "You are nervous."
"I'm not," Morwenna replied.
"You barely even tasted the fish."
Morwenna looked down at her plate in surprise. The fish was already gone, yet she didn't actually remember eating a single bite.
The days had grown much shorter, and the sun rose late only to set early, leaving the afternoons trapped in a grey twilight that made the manor feel significantly older than it was. Morwenna had spent the past few weeks practicing her fine motor skills. She used her right hand to open jars, wrote all of her morning notes with her non-dominant hand, and spent hours throwing stones at the frozen edge of the lake. She watched them skip twice, or perhaps three times, before the dark ice finally swallowed them.
She often dreamed about the daggers, picturing the dark steel, the cord-wrapped grips, and the comforting weight of them against her forearms.
Jack stood up from the table. "The appointment is at ten. We should go."
The Floo took them straight to Diagon Alley on a morning so biting that the cobblestones glittered with ice. The street was already busy with Christmas shoppers in thick robes hurrying past the brightly lit shop windows.
The air smelled of roasted chestnuts and fresh pine, prompting Morwenna to pull her travelling cloak tighter against the chill. Jack walked ahead with a steady stride while Jane stayed close to her side.
Gringotts loomed at the end of the street, a massive structure of white marble and bronze doors that looked exactly the same as always. Inside, the goblins remained hunched over their ledgers and didn't even bother to look up as the family passed.
The cart ride through the tunnels felt much shorter this time, or perhaps she had simply stopped noticing the terrifying drops. Her stomach still floated in her chest and her ears still popped from the pressure, but she kept her eyes wide open the entire time.
As they hurtled through the massive cavern, the pale dragon turned its enormous head to watch them. She met its gaze once again, and this time, the beast was the one to look away first.
.
The iron door at the end of the corridor was smaller than the others, and Threndak pushed it open to reveal the warmth of the workshop.
Grindelna's smithy felt incredibly hot. A forge burned brightly in the corner, its orange and red coals casting a flickering light across the rough stone walls. The air smelled strongly of hot metal and the sharper scent of oil or polish. Racks of gleaming blades lined the walls alongside finished hilts and sturdy sheaths, and a specialized rack of canes sat near the back.
Grindelna was standing at her central workbench with her sleeves rolled to her elbows and her hands bare. She didn't look up when they entered the room.
Resting on the bench were two daggers.
Morwenna stopped walking.
The steel was a deep, dark grey that looked almost black in the shadows. Its sharp edges caught the flickering forge light in thin, shimmering silver lines, and the hilts were wrapped tightly in dark cord.
The pommels featured emeralds set into polished silver, appearing low and unobtrusive. They were undeniably beautiful, possessing a lethal elegance that made it impossible to look away.
Grindelna finally picked one up. "The core of the design hasn't changed. The length, the balance point, and the overall purpose remain exactly as we discussed. What I altered was how the blade behaves in your hand."
She turned the weapon slightly, letting the light slide along the dark edge.
"First, consider the profile. The earlier design was broader through the body, which gave you more forgiveness while you were still adjusting to the weight. This one is significantly narrower and more tapered. You'll notice the difference immediately. It moves much faster, but it also punishes poor alignment. That's intentional, as you are past the stage where the weapon needs to compensate for you."
Her scarred finger traced along the spine of the steel.
"The taper is more aggressive now. The thickness near the hilt still anchors the blade, but it thins much sooner toward the point. That's why it improves penetration and reduces drag when you withdraw the strike. The previous version balanced stability, but this one favours pure precision."
She shifted her grip to the base of the dagger.
"The guard has been reduced. Before, it was slightly more pronounced to prevent your hand from slipping during incorrect angles, but you no longer rely on that. A smaller guard keeps the transition between the blade and the grip clean, ensuring your wrist movement isn't interrupted."
She handed the weapon to Morwenna.
Morwenna took it and found the weight was entirely different. It felt lighter, and the dark blade settled into her palm as if it had been waiting for her to arrive.
"The grip itself has changed subtly. It's more contoured now and less uniform. Your fingers will settle into it without the need for adjustment. You'll find the balance point much faster because the handle naturally guides you there. Before, you had to search for it."
Morwenna shifted her grip, and her fingers immediately found the new contours. The blade balanced perfectly.
Grindelna's gaze dropped to the pommel.
"The emerald remains, as you chose. I set it lower into the silver and reduced its prominence. It's not meant to draw the eye, as it's there for you and not for others. It also shifts a fraction of weight into the pommel, which improves your recovery between strikes when you are using both hands."
She tapped the flat of the blade lightly with her fingernail.
"And finally, the steel. The practice version reflected more light than I wanted. This one is treated to be much darker, appearing closer to black. In motion, it'll be incredibly difficult for an opponent to track. That's why it matters much more than mere appearance."
She paused for a moment.
"The first design taught your hands where the blade was located. This one assumes you already know. It removes the excess and leaves only what responds to you."
Morwenna looked down at the dagger in her hand and then at the one still resting on the bench.
"The materials are superior," Grindelna continued. "The steel is a blend of goblin-forged iron and a mineral taken from the deep earth. It'll hold an edge much longer than anything your family's smiths could ever produce. The grip cord is treated with a sealant that bonds to your skin's natural oils over time. The more you use it, the better it fits."
She picked up the second dagger.
"The emeralds are from your family's collection. Your mother brought them herself."
Jane offered a small nod of acknowledgement.
"The sheath leather is wyvern hide. It's fire-resistant and water-resistant, and it won't crack or dry out."
She set the second dagger back down.
"There's also a growth component built into the steel. I acquired the material during a visit to China decades ago. It was part of an exchange of techniques and materials with their master smiths."
Morwenna looked up in surprise.
"There are two reasons for its inclusion. First, you are a child. You'll grow, your hands will get larger, and your arms will lengthen. Your strength will naturally increase. A fixed weapon would need to be replaced every few years, but this one won't."
She picked up the first dagger again.
"The steel contains a trace element that responds directly to your magical signature. As you grow, the blade'll adjust. The balance'll shift and the grip'll subtly reconfigure itself. It'll take time, perhaps years, but by the time you reach your adult size, the daggers'll fit you exactly the way they fit you now."
She set the weapon down.
"Second, your weapon preferences lean heavily toward Chinese forms. The dual blades, the hidden mechanisms in your cane, and the emphasis on speed over strength all point to that. The growth material allows me to blend goblin forging techniques with Chinese adaptive metallurgy. The result isn't quite either tradition. It's something entirely new."
Morwenna looked at the daggers and then back at the smith. "Thank you."
Grindelna waved a hand dismissively. "The work isn't finished yet. I need five more hours to complete the final polish and the sheath fittings."
She walked to a cabinet against the wall and pulled out a small glass vial.
"Because this is your personal weapon, and because the binding technique is Chinese in origin, I need your heart blood. Only one drop. I'll require the same for the clan leader weapon when the time comes."
Morwenna's hand moved instinctively to her chest.
"For the dual daggers, one drop is sufficient."
Morwenna walked over to the smith. Her heart was beating significantly faster, but her hands remained steady.
Grindelna held out the vial. "Focus on the blades. Focus on the connection between yourself and the steel. When you are ready, I'll extract it."
Morwenna closed her eyes. She thought about the weight of the daggers and the way they'd settled so naturally into her palms. She thought of the dark steel, the green emeralds, and the silent promise of the weapons.
"I'm ready," she whispered.
Grindelna's hand hovered over her chest. The magical warmth was familiar now, as was the gentle, internal pull. Morwenna let out a single, sharp cough, and a drop of blood rose from her chest. It's a deep, dark red that looked almost black, and it fell perfectly into the waiting vial.
Grindelna stoppered it immediately.
She reached into the cabinet again and pulled out a second vial containing a pale green liquid, which she handed to the girl.
"Drink this. You'll feel a bit hollow for a few minutes otherwise."
Morwenna drank the potion. It was cold and tasted strongly of mint and earth, and the strange, hollow sensation behind her ribs faded almost instantly.
She walked back to her parents. Jane's hand found her shoulder and Jack remained silent, but his presence was steady. Morwenna sat on the stone bench near the wall and watched the smith work.
The old goblin moved slowly and with absolute deliberation. She heated the dark blades over the forge, held them up to the light, and examined edges that Morwenna couldn't even see. She polished the steel with soft cloths that didn't leave residue and carefully fitted the sheaths, adjusting the leather straps and testing the release catches repeatedly.
Morwenna's eyes grew heavy, but she didn't sleep. She simply watched the process.
The five hours passed in a blur. Finally, Grindelna set the daggers back on the bench. The sheaths lay beside them, made of dark leather with polished silver buckles.
"Come," she called.
She led the family through a door in the back of the smithy. The room beyond was much smaller than the testing ground from their first visit, perhaps only half the size. The stone walls were bare, and a single target stood at the far end of the chamber.
"Test them."
Morwenna picked up the daggers, and the sheaths were strapped securely to her forearms. The leather felt warm from the smith's hands. She pressed the release catches, and the dark blades slid perfectly into her palms.
She walked to the centre of the room.
"Stationary target first," Grindelna instructed. "Five throws, using your right hand only."
Morwenna threw the first blade. It struck the target dead in the centre.
"Again."
She threw the second blade, and it struck the target right beside the first.
"Again."
She retrieved the blades and threw them again, hitting the mark every single time.
Grindelna nodded in approval. "Now, a moving target."
A mechanism on the wall activated, and the target began to slide left and right on a tracked rail. It moved slowly at first, but it quickly picked up speed.
Morwenna threw, but the blade only hit the very edge of the moving dummy. She threw again and missed entirely. She took a breath and adjusted her timing, and the third throw struck the centre mass.
"Both hands now," Grindelna ordered. "A dual strike."
Morwenna held a dagger in each hand. The left one felt different now, appearing lighter and much more responsive. The growth material'd already begun to adjust to her presence.
She threw both daggers at once.
Both blades struck the target. The left blade hit high, while the right blade hit low.
Grindelna walked to the target and pulled them out, examining the depth of the impacts. "That's acceptable."
She handed the blades back. "Now the release. Make it fast, and don't think about it."
Morwenna strapped the sheaths back on. She pressed the catches, and the blades slid out instantly. She pressed them again, and they retracted. She repeated the motion over and over, going faster with every attempt. Her hands didn't fumble once, and the blades didn't stick in their housings.
Grindelna watched her. "Good. You must practice that motion every single day, thousands of times, until your hands can do it while you are asleep."
Morwenna gave a firm nod.
The smith walked to a cabinet and pulled out two leather wrist straps with silver buckles.
"These go over your sleeves, and the sheaths attach directly to them. You can wear them under loose robes or over tight ones, and the enchantment'll conceal them either way."
She handed them over.
"The daggers are yours now. Wear them when you can, and train with them when you can't. Before your staff is forged, you'll come back here. The staff maker from your family'll meet us here so we can coordinate the measurements. The clan leader weapon must work with your personal weapons, not against them."
Morwenna strapped the leather sheaths to her forearms. The hide was soft and the buckles felt cool against her skin. She pressed the catches, and the blades slid out into her hands. She held them up to the forge light.
Dark steel. Emerald pommels. The sharp edges caught the fire and threw it back in thin, shimmering silver lines. She pressed the catches again, and the blades retracted silently.
"Thank you," she said.
Grindelna offered a satisfied nod.