FIRE HEART

In the land of Metakse, a girl training as a swordsmith discovers societal injustice.

Wehia Jirin t’Doniyat is a young apprentice who has left the holding where her family members are makers of ornamental daggers and kitchen knives, all looked down upon by swordsmithing families for their utilitarian products. Yearning to create a longsword similar to Cold Steel, her family heirloom, Wehia journeys to the City of Swords to stay at the holding of her kin, the famed t’Tolani swordsmiths. There, she apprentices with her aunt, forge mistress Hadana, and, tempering her hotheadedness, undertakes grueling chores. The descriptions of Wehia’s training, feelings of homesickness, and the smithing process, while repetitive, fit the training montage trope and suit her coming-of-age story. Her budding romance with Geri Shaara, another apprentice, feels stilted and distant compared to their warm friendship, however. The disjointed worldbuilding includes a religious framework—matriarchal swordsmith holdings and worship of the Sword Goddess—that isn’t coherently integrated into the societal issues involving the ruling aristocracy and gender inequities. Similarly, Wehia’s developing views on the unequal treatment of the nomadic border people feel frustratingly distant rather than being an organic, thought-provoking parallel to modern issues. The repetitive, infodump-prone narrative style reduces the emotional impact and dramatic tension, but the story is buoyed by touching childhood flashbacks. The characters are minimally described physically and present as fantasy-diverse.

An intriguing premise that gets bogged down in telling rather than showing.