Later that night, Aiden found himself alone in the forge chamber. The golden flames cast long shadows on the walls, and the air was thick with the scent of molten metal. He approached the forge, placing his hands on its edge.
"I need your help," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackling flames. "If we're going to stop the Abyss, I need more than just weapons. I need answers. How do we fight something that corrupts everything it touches?"
The forge flared, its light intensifying as if responding to his plea. Images began to form in the flames—visions of battles fought long ago, of heroes who had stood against the Abyss and won. Aiden watched, his mind racing as he absorbed the knowledge.
One image lingered longer than the rest—a symbol, intricate and glowing with a light that seemed to repel the darkness. It was a seal, a mark of protection against the Abyss's corruption.
