The light of the Aetherveil folded like silk around them, and in the next heartbeat, the world changed.
Nyx blinked hard as cobblestone streets replaced the endless starry halls of Sirius's vessel. He caught his breath, steadying his boots on uneven ground. Around him, the city of Lindblum stretched wide and high, brass lifts groaning, steam hissing from pipes, and chatter ringing through air tinged with oil and smoke.
"Gaia," Nyx muttered, hand resting on the hilt at his side. "Hells, Sirius wasn't lying. Whole new world."
Beside him, Nibelo fluttered, wings buzzing in excitement, pom-pom glowing bright as a lantern. His little nose twitched at the scent of molten metal and oiled leather drifting through the streets. "Nyo wonder the Aether sent us here! It smells like… creation!"
Nyx gave him a sideways look, half amused. "You're the only one I've ever met who gets excited over smoke and scrap."
Nibelo didn't answer. His eyes had already locked on a modest building tucked between an aircab station and a busy market. A hand-painted sign swung lazily above its door: "Torres's Synth Shop."
The moogle's wings beat furiously. "That's it! The forge Sirius wanted me to find! Come on, Nyx, hurry-hurry-hurry!"
Nyx followed, his long stride easily matching Nibelo's frantic hops. The shop was simple, almost unimpressive from the outside — a crooked roof, soot-stained walls, and a faint glow leaking from the windows. But when Nibelo pushed the door open with both paws, the heat inside rolled out like a dragon's breath.
The shop was cluttered but alive. Piles of weapons, scraps, gemstones, and gears were stacked on benches, and at the heart of it all stood Torres himself — a broad, bald-headed man with soot-streaked arms and a stare sharp as a whetstone. He was busy hammering two mismatched pieces of metal into a single glowing ingot, his every strike ringing with conviction.
Nibelo's pom-pom bobbed as he called out, "Um! H-hello! Are you Torres the Synthesist?"
The man didn't look up. "Depends who's asking." Another hammer strike. "If you're here to buy, put your gil on the counter. If you're here to waste my time, get out."
Nibelo hopped closer, almost tripping over a scattered pile of gears. "Nyo, nyo! I—I want to learn! I'm a blacksmith too, but Sirius said I must see the synthesis craft. Please! Teach me!"
That made Torres pause. He set the glowing ingot down with tongs, turned, and squinted at the tiny moogle standing determinedly in his smoky workshop. His eyes narrowed. "A moogle… wanting to learn my craft?"
Nyx crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. "Don't underestimate him. Little guy's got fire in him — more than most soldiers I've fought beside."
Torres grunted, unimpressed. "Synthesis isn't just hammering metal. It's choice. Sacrifice. You give up two to gain one. Most don't have the stomach for it." His gaze lingered on Nibelo. "Think you do, fuzzball?"
Nibelo swallowed hard. His tiny paws clenched into fists. "I… I want to! If it means saving others — if it means forging weapons that can fight Chaos — then nyo matter the cost, I'll learn."
For the first time, Torres's stern expression cracked into something like interest. He wiped his hands on a rag and nodded toward a cluttered workbench. "All right then. Let's see if you mean it. Pick two items from that pile. But remember — whatever you choose will be gone forever. No turning back."
Nibelo fluttered nervously over the pile. Among the scraps lay an old dagger, its hilt worn but steady, and a chipped sapphire, dulled from years of neglect. He touched both gently, ears drooping.
Nyx's voice cut through the tense silence. "Don't rush it, kid. If you're not ready, say so."
Nibelo shook his head fiercely. "If I can't choose now, how can I ever stand beside Sirius? How can I forge the weapons we'll need?" His pom-pom glowed brighter, resolve shining in his eyes. "I'll do it."
He carried the dagger and sapphire to Torres, who nodded solemnly. "Good. Place them here."
The moogle set them on the forge table. Torres guided him to the hammering press, his large hands surprisingly careful as they adjusted Nibelo's grip. "Watch closely. The blade will lose its form. The gem will lose its shape. Together, they'll become something neither could be alone."
The forge roared, flames curling around the items. The dagger dissolved first, steel running like water, the sapphire splintering into sparks of light. Nibelo's paws trembled, but he held steady under Torres's stern gaze.
When the glow faded, a new weapon lay cooling on the anvil — a short blade, its edge shimmering faintly with sapphire light, as if the stone's soul had fused with steel.
Nibelo gasped, wings buzzing. He reached out, touching it reverently. "It's… it's alive. I can feel both of them, together."
Torres folded his arms, nodding once. "That's synthesis. You give something up, but in return, you make something greater. Power is born from sacrifice. Never forget it."
Nibelo hugged the blade to his chest, tears welling in his eyes. "Nyo… I thought it would feel sad. But… it feels warm. Like they're both still here, just… different."
Torres allowed the faintest smile. "That means you chose well. Most don't."
Nyx pushed off the doorframe, smirking. "Guess the little guy passed your test, then."
"Barely," Torres said, though his tone had softened. He handed Nibelo a smaller hammer, forged for lighter hands. "You've got potential, moogle. You want to learn? Then you'll come back here every day you're in Lindblum. You'll sweep my floors, polish my tools, and maybe — maybe — I'll show you the deeper secrets of synthesis."
Nibelo's ears shot straight up. "Y-yes! I'll do it! Thank you, Master Torres!"
The old smith grunted, returning to his work, though Nyx didn't miss the faint pride in his expression. "Don't thank me yet. You've only taken the first step. Synthesis is the art of sacrifice, and sacrifice is never easy."
As the hammer rang once more against glowing steel, Nyx glanced down at the moogle beside him. Nibelo was still cradling his first synthesized blade, pom-pom glowing with joy.
The Kingsglaive warrior smirked. "Looks like Sirius knew what he was doing, leaving us here. You're on your path now, kid. Don't waste it."
Nibelo nodded fiercely, clutching the blade close. "I won't. I'll forge forward… nyo matter what."
And in the heart of Lindblum, under the watchful eye of a master smith, the Starborn Artisan's journey had truly begun.