A couple of hours passed. Ashton's hands were screaming for relief. But he did not stop. Not even when his hands got full of blisters and cuts.
Usually, these small 'injuries' would have healed themselves, but it seemed the sticks were imbued with magic to prevent it from happening. It almost felt as if Vulcan wanted to give him a taste of misery. Unfortunately for him, the great weaponsmith did not know how stubborn Ashton can be.
In these two hours, Ashton managed to create a small chunk of ember quite a few times. But his hastiness and impatience to get the fire up and running, ruined everything.
He either ended up blowing air with an unnecessary force that killed the ember, or he blew it too softly, which again resulted in the ember dying out. It almost felt the pain incurred from rubbing the sticks was nothing in comparison to watching the ember slowly running out of flickering light.
