Molgaroth, the city that never sleeps.
The dwarven city stood proudly atop the heights of the Valdurn Range, surrounded by imposing snow-capped peaks that seemed to touch the sky.
Its architecture, carved directly into the rock, combined the majesty of an ancient kingdom with the practical functionality of a culture forged in steel.
During the winters, Molgaroth transformed into a white sea, covered by a perpetual blanket of snow.
In spring, while the snowfall became less intense, the snow still blanketed the heights, revealing only glimpses of the mountains' formidable strength.
The streets, usually bustling with life, lay quiet at this hour. Merchants offered weapons, jewelry, and magical artifacts in bustling markets during the day, while blacksmiths and artisans worked tirelessly, creating wonders that drew adventurers from across the continent.
At the heart of the city, a forge glowed with the orange light of an eternal flame.
There, Thalindra worked with an almost obsessive precision. The constant hammering on metal echoed through the stillness of the night, a sound that blended with the crackling of the fire, as if the city itself beat in time with her.
With a frustrated growl, Thalindra dropped her hammer and looked at the piece she had been shaping for hours. Her gaze hardened as she saw that, once again, it was not up to the standard of the swords her grandfather had forged.
—By the ancestors! —she exclaimed, throwing the defective piece into the scrap bin. The metallic clatter echoed through the workshop, but it did nothing to calm the fury burning inside her.
Her gaze shifted to her workbench, where the "Elemental Gauntlets" rested. Incomplete and surrounded by an air of impotence, every detail represented both her pride and her failure.
The metal, forged with impeccable precision, seemed capable of withstanding even the most voracious flames. The engraved runes pulsed faintly, ready to channel elemental energy. But the essential component was missing: "Umbranite."
A mineral so rare that many considered it a myth. Its characteristic deep purple hue reflected the essence of the dark magic it contained, and only in the Empire of Netheria could it be found in significant quantities.
She knew this better than anyone. She had spent years chasing rumors, dealing with merchants who sold empty promises, and evaluating samples that failed to meet her standards.
The Umbranite she needed had to be perfect in size and quality to bring her masterpiece to life.
—What's the point of all this talent if I can't complete a single decent invention? —she muttered, letting herself fall onto a nearby bench.
With a mix of reverence and contained rage, she traced her fingers over the runes of the gauntlets.
Each groove seemed to whisper the names of her ancestors, reminding her of the weight of the Terrafist legacy: a legendary family of smiths who had created weapons for immortal heroes.
Giving up was not an option, but the burden she carried grew heavier with each passing day.
Then, she remembered a rumor she had heard at the tavern. Among the drunken ramblings, someone had mentioned the arrival of a group of adventurers in the city. According to them, one of them carried a white crow.
—Crows are the symbol of Netheria… Maybe they know how to get what I'm looking for.
It was just a rumor, but for Thalindra, that spark was enough.
She stood up, her thoughts already forming a plan as she felt her determination reignite. The forge's flames reflected in her crimson eyes, burning with the same intensity as her resolve.
She gripped her hammer tightly, letting the familiar warmth of its handle remind her that her fight was far from over.
—They'd better cooperate. And if they don't… —she said with a smile that fell far short of kind as she effortlessly lifted her hammer—. I think my hammer still knows how to speak for me.
The sound of metal filled the workshop once more, an echo that rang out like a declaration of war.
Somewhere in Molgaroth…
Fate was beginning to move. A clumsy human, a wind elf, a light elf, and a white crow were about to cross paths with a dwarf whose fire knew no limits.