The forge hall glowed with molten firelight, embers dancing in the air like fireflies. The heat pressed against their skin, sweat shining on foreheads, but none of it dimmed Maelin's excitement. Her eyes sparkled brighter than the forge flames as Master Kaelor's heavy voice broke through the steady ring of hammers.
"You have more than quick hands, girl. You have the instinct." He gestured to the bracer Maelin had forged earlier, still gleaming with faint lightning veins. "This is not the work of luck—it is skill, unrefined, but ready to be sharpened."
Maelin's cheeks flushed redder than the fire. "Do you really mean…?"
Kaelor gave a sharp nod. "Yes. If you are willing, you may work here under my guidance. Not full time—your studies come first—but whenever lessons permit. I will teach you what the forge itself has taught me: how to hear the language of metal, how to coax scales and steel into living forms."
