Grisla shrieked.

The amulet, which to his privy was of some cool metal, ever resistant to fire, raised up like a ghost from the ashes to slap him in the face. His response, justified. His cheek must’ve been melting off of his face by now, as he fell to the floor he was sure of it, that his face, while not dashing or a heart stealer, wouldn’t be ever allowed to be shown in public again. Amulet silent whilst it went down.

  Even with my hardships, I always had confidence in my face! No! Please, oh heavens…

This stage act went on for a time, until, ready to face the music, he pulled a basin of water from the side. Deep breaths—one to prepare, another to give him courage. The pain wasn’t there, but of course it wouldn’t be, he knew his face must’ve been melted to the nerves. Dread pervading him, he inched ever forward over it. Stopping.

  Would be better if I closed my eyes.

While he saw the world in black, his head then made it over.

  On one… two… three!

Grisla made a face. “You serious?” He expected to be called cheese-face after today, but blinked again to do a double-take at his face. Untouched, a little red, but who wouldn’t be after some tear-jerking episode? Grisla did take a pause, a real one at this point. Nothing added up, where was the sense in this?

The amulet as he knew of it—had too much of suspicion to be an ordinary accessory, that he knows to the fullest.

  Dead owner, indestructible, resistant to heat, and…

The amulet, who lain still like it had been left there for years more than minutes, started out in a gross disrespect to physics; shooting in a direct line for Grisla. A deer in headlights, it took longer than any self-respecting martial artist would to bring up a response. Without thinking, he caught it. But gripping it again just to make sure his sense of touch was correct.

  I’m not delusional. It really is… cold.

Cold in the way that any metal would be in this winter. As he looked at it, there weren’t any visible changes that he would notice—rusted and a throwaway as ever. When he probed it, nothing.

  Instead of absorbing the heat… it just negated the fire’s energy altogether?

Grisla hadn’t heard of an item with this sort of property before. It didn’t fully surprise him, after all, in their world there are many strange phenomena without explanation. Like the disappearance of his sweets from the pantry, rolling his eyes.

  Putting aside how durable it is, it did move on its own. Without any outside interference. Couldn’t have been responding to my Juva, I haven’t even fully recovered it yet and won’t have it back till morning. The only answer could be…

His eyes widened. Sentience.

He killed that thought without mercy, “Impossible.” It had to be. There were no such thing as sentient items, let alone jewelry. That was something for an exaggerated tale. How would you explain that, even? Grisla tried to keep an open mind for it, but the longer he analyzed the amulet, the sooner it came to the same end. A smirk couldn’t help itself from crawling over his lips though, his feeling was right. Now, whether the mystery of this thing was as interesting as it promised, time will tell.

What was told to him—without a doubt—would be to never open his mouth about this amulet to anyone, ever. Han hadn’t spoken a bit about this new discovery, and he spent the longest time with it. Best to keep it under his tongue, and Grisla, being Grisla, felt the implications of the thing rushing in akin to a storm drain. He did have a doubt and tested it again. Tossing the whole thing, amulet and chain to the epicenter of the flame.

Not a second of his experiment worked as planned, for the amulet again launched back out and shot straight to his face. Grisla’s hand knew what to do. And, after taking a feel of its surface again, it was true: it was more than a good insulator, the thing acted as if the principles of energy never existed at all.

  Did Rei Jian make this? Or… did it get it from someone else? If the latter, whatever else was found at the time of his death must be kept under lock and key by the clan. But why? Xinrei himself had no quarrel taking a—legendarily useless trinket—out of Han’s care. The years since Jian’s death the amulet has looked the same, from what I was told, but… Xinrei shows up, generations later and suddenly it rusts out?

A corner of his heart smiled, there was something behind all of it.

  He couldn’t help but play with the amulet as he spoke, “And, if I presume, Xinrei has some knowledge… and then his family’s elders would too who are basically both the clan and family,” He said. “Somewhere in it, there’s an invested interest to find the truth out, many years later. Though I wonder how interested they’ll be if Xinrei tattles about the ‘death’ of it.”

That consequence he couldn’t predict, but what use was there in worrying of something like that? He gained a valuable thing for the price of—nothing. The art of the deal wasn’t lost on him, Grisla guessed.

“However, just referring to this thing as an ‘amulet’ is too stale for my liking,” He shook it, “Maybe I should name you. Uhm,” Admittedly it was too ugly of a piece to see it being offered to a lady friend, Grisla thought. It was bold, unafraid of itself. The problem was he couldn’t have it on his person in public, so it’d be de facto to keep it stashed under his robes. After a moment, “The Red Amulet,” Grisla said.

  That’s lame. Rusted Metal? The Rei Locket? Horrible.

This conundrum lasted longer than he would ever admit. Then, the problem was solved for him. Rei Jian’s amulet broke physics again, levitating up while still held by its chain like Grisla held a leash, he wasn’t sure that their definition of “sentience” would be wholly applicable to an item such as this, and he expects himself to be corrected in the future. But he was in the dark to whatever intentions the amulet held; curiosity took the better of him in the end, accepting the amulet’s cold touch at his forehead.

“Amazing.” He stood, agape.

What had happened he couldn’t explain. “The Sage’s Ornament. What’s a Sage? I never heard of Rei Jian being referred to as this… Sage. Maybe, Rei Jian was not your original master…” Grisla whispered.

He was sure of it, now and forever, that what he had just learned was something that nobody had ever came close to discovering. If the clan took even a whiff of what happened here, a confiscation would be in order. Further reinforcing Grisla’s stance on the matter. The Sage’s Ornament had chosen him, least from what he had pieced together. Maybe Rei Jian was someone else who was chosen; whatever end had reached him was without a doubt involving what he held now before him. It did worry him, a tad. After it had “told” him, the amulet lay silent.

Snowflakes carried by eager winds lie in packed bundles across Leimuth’s streets. Frosted breath; goosebumps on the nightly stroll. A cultivator training below a starless sky. Triple kicks, Earth shatters; Heaven quakes, done in slow, rhythmic steps. Or other times, going by his own irregular tempo. His nose burned, mucous running. After his final punch, with the curtain’s fall, he bowed.

Looking up—he no had knowledge of what tomorrow will bring… or what it kept in secret. Regardless, he walked over such things without hesitation. The boy knew there wouldn’t be a chance of stopping the march of time, moving endlessly on, with him, or without. So, to not get left behind, he carried himself back home and in tow… a rusted amulet of unknown value.