They left the exiles' house mid-morning.
Khazad-Val was a stone anthill. Hammers striking metal everywhere. The smell of charcoal and iron on every corner. Narrow, clean streets winding between massive buildings. The golden light from ventilation shafts carved into the mountain ceiling bathed everything, as if the heart of the dwarven city were made of fire and gold.
Kára went ahead. Varkas at her side. Darian behind, with Vael on his shoulder. Elias brought up the rear, the white owl perched on his shoulder.
A wide plaza opened before them. In the center, a colossal statue.
A stone dwarf with a hammer raised high. Contained fury on his face. At his feet, a crack from which sculpted flames burst. Runes at the base.
Darian stopped.
"Who is that?"
Kára followed his gaze.
"Khazadrim. The Hammer of the Alliance. Our hero. He fought against the Demon King."
Darian studied the statue in silence.
"What did he do?"
"He was one of the six. They fought together. At the end, when they were about to seal the Demon King, his power exploded. A blast that destroyed everything around it. They died trying to contain it. None of them came back."
Darian said nothing. Vael brushed his cheek with his snout.
They kept walking.
Bram's forge was in a narrow alley, away from the bustle.
The old blacksmith looked up. Gray beard, scar above his eyebrow, pipe smoking at the corner of his lips.
"Kára. It's been a while."
"Bram. I need to collect that favor."
The dwarf snorted.
"Which one?"
"When you hurt your hand and I worked free for two weeks so you wouldn't lose your orders."
Bram grunted.
"That's true. What do you need?"
"Your forge. A few hours. And your discretion."
The dwarf looked at the group. His eyes stopped on Vael, on Darian's swords, on Elias's owl. He snorted again.
"Done. But if you break anything, you pay for it."
He withdrew to a corner. The pipe kept smoking.
Kára planted herself before the anvil.
"Yours first," she said to Varkas. "Put your hands on the blade and channel your mana into it."
Varkas laid his sword on the anvil. He placed both hands on the steel and closed his eyes. An amber glow flowed from his palms into the metal.
Darian watched. Vael, on his shoulder, did too. Elias, from the entrance, didn't look away. The owl turned its head slowly, as if it also sensed that something was about to change.
Kára extended her hands. A golden flame burst from her palms. She shaped it in the air until it formed a hammer of pure fire. She raised it.
The first blow resonated through the forge.
No sparks flew. Runes flew. Circles of ancient symbols burst from the impact, spinning slowly around the blade.
Darian held his breath. Vael made a curious sound.
Second blow. More runes. More circles.
Bram leaned forward, pipe forgotten in his hand. His eyes were wide open. He had seen many forges in his life, but never anything like this.
Third blow. The fire hammer dissolved between Kára's fingers.
The dwarf's eyes turned white. An ancient energy flowed from her chest to the sword. The circles of runes converged on the blade and fused with the metal.
Elias narrowed his eyes. His hand rested on the owl's plumage. He had seen something he hadn't expected.
Kára took the sword and moved it away from the anvil, setting it on a nearby table.
"Not yet. When it wakes, you'll know."
Varkas nodded. He was pale, but steady. He stepped back from the anvil.
"Now yours. Both at once."
Darian laid his swords on the anvil. The long one and the short one. He placed both hands on the blades and closed his eyes. His mana flowed. The blue lines of the resonant crystal glowed brightly.
Varkas watched from the side. He saw Kára form the fire hammer again. He saw her strike the long sword. Runes. The short sword. More runes. Three blows per blade.
He saw Kára's eyes turn white. He saw the energy flow.
He saw Darian stagger before it was even finished, his face pale and covered in sweat.
Kára moved both swords aside and set them beside Varkas's.
She staggered. Varkas caught her with one arm while with the other he held Darian, who could barely stand.
"Done. All three. Now... we wait."
On the table, the blades rested in silence.
And then, they awakened.
Varkas's sword erupted in a pulsing red aura. A furious heartbeat that made the metal of the table tremble.
Bram took a step back. The pipe fell to the floor. He didn't bend down to pick it up.
Darian's long sword rose a few centimeters, wrapped in a white, serene light that climbed toward the ceiling like a beacon.
Elias held his breath. The owl beat its wings, unsettled.
The short sword exhaled a thick, dark mist that spilled across the floor, crawling like a predator that had just opened its eyes.
Vael, who had remained on Darian's shoulder throughout the ritual, jumped into the air and perched on a rafter. From there he let out a sharp sound, his golden eyes moving from the swords to Darian, from Darian to the swords.
The three auras intertwined for an instant in the air, as if recognizing each other. Then they settled, wrapping each blade in a steady glow.
Bram spoke with a trembling voice.
"By the beards of my ancestors... What have you done?"
Kára smiled weakly.
"Awakened them."
Varkas brought a hand to his chest. He felt a deep exhaustion, but bearable. Like after a long day of battle.
Darian, on the other hand, could barely stand. Vael returned to his shoulder and curled against his neck, making a worried sound.
"What's wrong?" Varkas asked.
"Empty..." Darian murmured. "I feel empty."
Kára looked at him. Then at the swords. The long one and the short one still glowed with their auras, alive, hungry.
"Your weapons are more powerful. They drained far more mana from you. Much more. You'll need to rest."
Darian nodded weakly. Vael pressed tighter against him.
The auras glowed, alive.
But they still didn't know what it meant.