The wind blew hard through the destroyed streets of Kaelthur, bringing with it light ash that swirled like tiny specters of what had once been the city. Strax remained standing in the middle of the square, watching the forge that remained standing a few houses away. The heat emanating from the place was unusual—it wasn't just the heat of a fire fueled by coal or wood. It was a living, ancient heat that seemed to reverberate even in the depths of his chest.
He crossed his arms, his golden eyes half-closed. "Curious..." he murmured, his voice deep as muffled thunder. "There's something in there... like a coal made to shape iron. A persistent sensation, burning and refusing to go away."
Scarlet appeared at his side, silent as ever. The smile on her lips was unmistakable: she felt it too. "Now that you mention it... yes." She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling the air. "It's not just heat." It's a real flame, but not just any flame. It's as if someone's life has become a furnace.
