Deep beneath the molten mountains of Ignara, sparks danced like fireflies as Rion Thalor struck his hammer against a glowing blade. The clang echoed through the forge, rhythmic, powerful — the heartbeat of a craftsman.
Beside him, Talia Greystone, his apprentice, fanned the flames.
"Master Rion, that's your fifth blade this morning."
"This one's different," Rion replied, eyes glowing faintly red with Ignaran fire. "It sings."
He lifted the weapon, and the steel vibrated with life — a blade not forged, but born.
The forge door burst open. Tharos Ironhand, general of Ignara, stomped in.
"Blacksteel's army has breached the southern gates. The king calls for every smith and soldier!"
Rion's grip tightened on the blade. "Then give me this one chance to repay the fire that forged me."
Outside, the sky rained ash — and in its glow, Rion saw the black banners of Umbraheim rising over the horizon.