The hammer trembled. At first, it was only a faint vibration, like the quiver of a mountain before an avalanche. But with each pulse, the sound deepened, resonating through the void like a drumbeat older than time. The celestial flames battered against it, searing and white-hot, yet the hammer only glowed brighter, its surface alive with veins of molten bronze and streaks of deep earth-gold.
It began to sing.
Not a song of melody, but of resonance—a deep hum that carried the sound of stone grinding against stone, of metal clashing upon anvils, of sparks leaping into life. It was the echo of the first forge, the eternal rhythm of creation itself. Every pulse felt like a heartbeat, and with each strike, the void shook, as if the hammer were beating against the foundations of existence.
Then—
CRACK!
