Dawn seeped through the smudged windows of the forge, thin and watery, like diluted blood.
Kaden's eyes fluttered open, his throat dry as ash.
The first thing he registered was the ache in his shoulders—leftover from the night's teleportation, from clutching that cursed sword box like a lifeline.
The second was the whisper, still clinging to his eardrums: They're closer than you think.
He sat up abruptly, his cot creaking.
The forge was quiet, save for the faint hiss of embers in the hearth.
Serena stood by the workbench, her back to him.
Her dark braid had come loose, strands sticking to the nape of her neck, and in her hands—
A shard of black stone, veined with silver, glinted under the morning light.
She set it down gently, the sound of stone meeting wood sharp as a slap.
"Where did you get that?" Kaden asked, his voice rough.
Serena turned, her fingers signing quickly: Found it under the auction stage.
Caught it when the floorboards cracked.
Her eyes darted to the system interface flickering in his peripheral vision—a faint blue glow only he could see.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Dark Iron Council residual sigil detected.
Analysis pending.
Threat level: Elevated.
]
The words burned into his retinas.
Kaden's pulse quickened.
Dark Iron.
The name his master had spat in whispers, the shadow that had hounded them across three kingdoms.
He reached for the shard, his fingers hovering an inch above it.
The air hummed, like a tuning fork pressed to his skull.
"Serena—"
A clatter of hooves shattered the silence.
They both froze.
The forge door, old and warped, shuddered as a heavy fist pounded against it.
Kaden met Serena's gaze; hers was wide, wary.
He nodded once, and she slipped behind the curtain dividing the forge from the storeroom, her steps soundless.
When he opened the door, the stench of iron and sweat hit him first.
Then the silver armor - polished to a near-blinding sheen, etched with the raven sigil of House.
The man wearing it stood a head taller than Kaden, his jaw squared, his eyes the color of storm clouds.
"Kaden Aenhoek?" The voice was a blade, honed to precision.
"What do you want?" Kaden kept his hand near the hammer propped by the door.
The knight tossed a scroll at his feet.
It unfurled, revealing a seal—black iron, coiled into a snake.
Kaden's stomach dropped.
Dark Iron.
"I am Sir Isaac Raven," the man said, "and I require a service. Forge a sword… from my brother's ashes."
Kaden's throat tightened.
"I don't forge soul weapons for strangers."
Isaac's smile was a slash of teeth.
"You'll forge it. Unless you'd like the Council to hear how you've been hoarding their property." He nodded at the rune-sealed box on the workbench—the stolen sword.
"Or how your little mute apprentice tampered with their auction?"
Serena's breath hitched behind the curtain.
Kaden's fingers curled into a fist.
He knows.
Of course he did.
The Dark Iron Council had eyes everywhere.
"Fine," Kaden ground out.
"Bring the ashes."
Isaac produced a velvet bag, its fabric stiff with age.
When Kaden opened it, a cloud of gray dust billowed up—fine, almost glittering.
Bone ash, he realized, but not ordinary.
There was magic here, old and hungry, clinging to the particles like a second skin.
The system flared: [WARNING: Foreign soul residue detected.
Proceed with caution.
]
Kaden lit the forge, his movements mechanical.
Serena emerged from the storeroom, her gaze fixed on the ash.
She signed: Dangerous.
He nodded, but Isaac was already leaning against the anvil, watching.
The first spark caught.
The ash swirled into the flames, glowing gold at first, then fading to… purple.
Deep, bruise-colored, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Kaden's skin prickled.
The system screamed: [CRITICAL: Soul instability!
Terminate immediately!
]
But Isaac was smiling now, a hungry thing.
"Forge it," he said.
"Forge it right."
Kaden gripped the tongs, sweat dripping into his eyes.
The metal core formed, but instead of smooth steel, it rippled, as if something were struggling beneath the surface.
A face emerged—gaunt, screaming, its mouth stretched into a silent wail.
"Kaden!" Serena's voice—hoarse, raw, as if she'd torn it from her throat.
She lunged, her palms slamming onto the hot metal.
A blue light burst from her fingertips, crackling like static.
The sword split with a shriek, a black mist pouring out before dissipating.
Isaac stumbled back, his face pale.
"What did you do?"
Serena collapsed, gasping.
Kaden caught her, his eyes locked on the broken blade.
The face was gone.
The system went dark.
"Get out," Kaden said, low.
"Now."
Isaac hesitated, then grabbed the ash bag and fled.
The door slammed behind him.
The next morning, the fog clung to the rooftops like a shroud.
Kaden was sharpening a chisel when the scream cut through the air.
He and Serena ran to the town square.
A crowd had gathered, muttering.
At its center, Isaac lay crumpled, the broken sword protruding from his chest.
The blade was smooth now, no face, no mist.
Just