The rhythmic clang-clang-clang of hammer on steel filled the small forge, a sound as familiar to Kaelion as his own heartbeat. Heat radiated from the roaring furnace, painting his face in flickering shades of orange and gold. Sweat trickled down his temples, but he barely noticed. His focus was entirely on the blade taking shape beneath his hands.
It was a simple dagger, commissioned by a passing merchant, but Kaelion had poured every ounce of his skill into it. His father's words echoed in his mind: "Even the humblest tool deserves care. A craftsman's pride lies in the details."
Kaelion paused, holding the blade up to the dim light filtering through the forge's soot-streaked windows. The steel gleamed, its edge sharp and precise. Yet, something felt… off.
A faint hum vibrated through the metal, so subtle he almost missed it. It wasn't the usual resonance of well-tempered steel. This was different—deeper, almost alive. He frowned, running a calloused thumb along the flat of the blade.
"Strange," he muttered, shaking his head. Fatigue must be playing tricks on him. He'd been at the forge since dawn, and his muscles screamed for rest.
"One last step," he told himself, reaching for the quenching trough.
The moment the blade touched the water, the forge erupted in a blinding flash of golden light. Kaelion staggered back, shielding his eyes as the air crackled with energy. The dagger trembled in his hand, its surface rippling like liquid fire.
"What in the—"
Before he could finish, a voice, deep and resonant, echoed in his mind.
"Awakened."
Kaelion's breath hitched. He dropped the blade, his heart pounding as it clattered to the floor. The light faded, but the dagger was no longer ordinary. Intricate patterns shimmered across its surface, veins of molten gold weaving through the steel. The hilt bore a glowing rune, ancient and unfamiliar.
"What… are you?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The dagger twitched. Then, impossibly, it rose into the air, hovering before him. The voice spoke again, softer this time.
"I am Emberfang. And you… you are my creator."
Kaelion's mind raced. This wasn't possible. Weapons didn't speak. They didn't float. And yet, here it was, defying every rule of blacksmithing he'd ever known.
Before he could gather his thoughts, the forge door slammed open. Lyra Silvershade burst in, her chest heaving and her face pale.
"Kaelion! We need to go. Now."
"Lyra?" He blinked, still reeling from the dagger's transformation. "What's wrong?"
She grabbed his arm, her grip like iron. "Drakthar's men. They're here. They're looking for you."
Kaelion's blood turned to ice. Drakthar, the warlord whose name alone struck fear into the hearts of villagers, was in Emberfall? Why would he come here?
Lyra's gaze fell on the floating dagger, and her eyes widened. "Is that… a Soulforged artifact?"
"I don't know what it is," Kaelion admitted, his voice trembling. "I just made it, and it—"
A deafening crash cut him off as the forge's windows shattered. Armored soldiers poured in, their weapons gleaming in the firelight. At their head stood a towering figure clad in black armor, his eyes glowing with an unnatural light.
"Kaelion Emberfall," the man said, his voice like grinding stone. "You've been keeping secrets."
Kaelion's heart raced as he backed away, clutching Emberfang. The dagger pulsed in his hand, as if urging him to fight.
"Stay back!" he warned, though his voice shook.
The soldier smirked. "You think a boy with a shiny knife can stop us? Hand over the artifact, and we'll make your death quick."
Lyra stepped forward, her daggers flashing. "Over my dead body."
The soldier laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "That can be arranged."
Before Kaelion could react, the soldiers charged. Lyra met them head-on, her movements a blur of steel and shadow. Kaelion stood frozen, his mind racing. He wasn't a fighter. He was a blacksmith.
But as a blade swung toward him, Emberfang moved on its own, deflecting the strike with a burst of golden light. The soldier staggered back, his weapon shattered.
"Trust me," the dagger's voice whispered. "Together, we are more."
Kaelion took a deep breath, gripping the hilt tightly. "Alright. Let's do this."
The forge erupted into chaos as Kaelion and Lyra fought side by side, Emberfang guiding his every move. But even as they held their own, more soldiers poured in, their numbers overwhelming.
"We can't keep this up!" Lyra shouted, parrying a blow.
Kaelion glanced at the furnace, an idea forming. "Cover me!"
He darted toward the furnace, Emberfang in hand. With a swift motion, he plunged the dagger into the coals, and the forge exploded in a wave of fire and light. The soldiers screamed as they were thrown back, their armor scorched.
"Run!" Kaelion yelled, grabbing Lyra's hand.
They burst out of the forge and into the night, the village in flames around them. Kaelion's heart ached as he saw the destruction, but there was no time to mourn.
As they reached the edge of the village, a shadow loomed before them. Drakthar himself stood there, his massive sword resting on his shoulder.
"Leaving so soon?" he sneered.
Kaelion tightened his grip on Emberfang, his fear giving way to determination. "You won't take me."
Drakthar's eyes gleamed. "We'll see about that."
The warlord charged, and Kaelion raised Emberfang, the dagger's light blazing like a star.
But as their weapons clashed, the ground beneath them began to crack, and a deep rumble shook the earth. Kaelion's eyes widened as a fissure opened, swallowing Drakthar and his men.
"What's happening?" Lyra shouted, pulling Kaelion back.
Before he could answer, the ground gave way, and they were falling into darkness.