Hewitt was alone in the secret chamber.
Tyler had gone to find Paul, and instructed Hewitt to absorb and adapt to the power of the Heart of the Frost Giant as much as possible during this time.
Hewitt held a wine glass in one hand, watching it shimmer under the refraction of the light.
Such ingenious craftsmanship, who could have forged such an incredibly exquisite divine artifact?
Oh, it was me.
What he was now doing was something all blacksmiths would consider sorcery — turning a forged item back into its raw material.
Luckily, he was already unorthodox.
Creak.
A crack appeared on the wine glass, a brilliant blue light burst from it, and a layer of snow crystals hung on Hewitt's eyebrows.
Resentment surged out with the ice and snow from the crack, letting out a wail full of hate and rage towards Hewitt.
