Kaelen's hands were blistered and raw, but he barely felt the sting as he gripped the heated metal. The iron bar glowed a deep, pulsing red, casting a warm, eerie light over the darkened forge. As he struck it with his hammer, each blow echoed through the Fire Realm's quiet night, mixing with the distant roar of the volcanoes dotting the horizon.
"You'll wear yourself out before the real work even begins," grumbled Old Briar, his mentor and the village blacksmith. The older man leaned on the doorframe, his silhouette blending into the shadows.
Kaelen straightened, brushing sweat from his brow, and shot Briar a grin. "Not a chance. Besides, someone's got to finish these blades."
Briar only sighed, his gaze growing distant. "These days, we're making more weapons than tools. Never a good sign."
Kaelen's smile faltered, his thoughts drifting to the rumors that had been circling the village like dark clouds. Whispers of strange sightings at the borders, a flicker of shadow moving through the fire-lit plains, and the feeling, growing stronger each day, that something was watching from beyond. He pushed the thought away, focusing on his work. But as he brought the hammer down once more, the forge suddenly went dark, the flame snuffed out in an instant.
"What in the—" Kaelen started, but a voice interrupted him.
"Kaelen…"
The voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it sent a shiver down his spine. He turned to Briar, but the blacksmith's face had gone ashen. "Did you…?"
Briar's eyes were wide. "I heard it too."
Before either of them could react, a gust of wind swept through the forge—a cold wind, entirely foreign in the heat of the Fire Realm. Kaelen's hammer slipped from his hand as shadows began to gather at the center of the room, coiling and twisting like a living thing. The shadows began to form a shape, a figure cloaked in darkness, its edges flickering as if made from smoke.
"Kaelen," it whispered again, the sound both familiar and impossibly distant.
He felt his feet move toward it, though his mind screamed to run. Something about the shadow felt… known. Like a memory from a dream. He reached out a trembling hand, only for the figure to pull back, as if afraid of his touch.
"You must go… to the edges," it murmured, its voice breaking apart like embers in the wind. "Find them… Find the others. Before it's too late."
Kaelen's pulse thundered in his ears. "Others? Who are you?"
The figure's form flickered, beginning to unravel. "They will come… from water, from earth, from sky… When the realms fracture…" It seemed to struggle with each word, as though the darkness itself were trying to swallow its voice. "Save them. Or we all fall into the void…"
And with that, the figure shattered into wisps of shadow, vanishing as quickly as it had come. Silence fell over the forge, and the flame of the forge slowly rekindled, filling the room with its familiar warmth.
Kaelen's heart was still pounding as he looked at Briar. The old blacksmith's face was pale, his eyes hollow, as if he had just seen a ghost.
"What was that?" Kaelen whispered, his voice hoarse.
Briar took a deep breath, his voice trembling. "Something that should have stayed in legend." He looked at Kaelen with a gaze that held both fear and something new—a glimmer of hope. "You need to leave, Kaelen. Tonight. You're no ordinary blacksmith, and it's time you learned why."
Kaelen's world spun as Briar's words echoed in his mind. Everything he had known, the life he had planned, now felt as fragile as the shadows that had disappeared moments before. He felt a pull, a compulsion he couldn't explain, a need to find answers—and maybe, somehow, to find the "others" the shadow had spoken of.
In the dead of night, with nothing but a hastily packed bag, a dagger, and the ashes of his home fire clinging to his clothes, Kaelen slipped from the village. As he crossed the first hill, he looked back, a strange sadness twisting in his chest. He didn't know if he'd ever see his home again.
But deep down, he knew there was no turning back.