The village of Daerun awoke to the scent of iron and freshly baked bread.
Tucked away in the eastern reaches of the continent of Eltarion, between mist-shrouded mountains and forests as ancient as myth itself, Daerun was small—forgotten even by the most detailed maps. But to Kaien Thorne, it was the center of the world. At least, until that day.
Moss- and ivy-covered houses of stone and wood lined the main road, where local traders bartered raw iron for salt or tanned leather. The rhythmic clang of hammers filled the air—blacksmiths, tanners, hunters, craftsmen… a village shaped by hard labor and simplicity.
But Kaien didn't just want to pound iron.
He wanted to listen to it.
"Iron groans before it bends. Wood creaks before it breaks. Steel… sings."
His mother Ireth Thorne's words echoed in his mind as he watched the embers in the makeshift forge behind their house. It was there, beneath a crooked roof, using tools inherited from a father he'd never met, that Kaien forged his dreams—small, crooked, fragile. But his own.
"You don't have to be a blacksmith to survive, Kaien," Ireth would say, wiping her arms after another shift as the village healer. "But if this is truly what you want, let it be for something greater than swords and axes."
Yet Kaien longed to feel the metal. Not for war. Not for glory. There was something… more. A restlessness that had grown over time, as if his blood knew something his mind did not.
He spent hours in silence, studying old tools in the ancestors' hut—a small family shrine where rusted relics of forgotten times were kept. Among them was a stone pedestal with an empty slot, as if meant to hold a blade. But the weapon had never been there, his mother said.
The night before, Kaien had dreamed.
Fire. Ash falling like black snow. And a sword buried in the heart of a dead god.
When he woke, the hum was there—a dull whisper in his chest. Like a voice calling to him.
And then he knew where he had to go.
"Kaien! Off to the woods alone again?" Milo, one of the village boys, shouted as Kaien passed through the southern gate, an old dagger at his belt.
"Just hunting," Kaien replied without looking back.
"Last time you said that, you came back scratched up and empty-handed!" Milo laughed.
Kaien only raised a hand in farewell.
The forest of Glaesyr, ancient and untamed, lay south of Daerun. Its paths were twisting and alive—trees that seemed to shift, roots sprouting where stone had once been. The elders called it a land of echoes, where the past whispered to those who listened.
Kaien walked, guided by instinct—and by the hum.
With every step, the sensation grew stronger. Not pain, not fear—resonance. As if something inside him vibrated with the world around him.
"Why now?" he whispered, scanning the high branches. "Why call me now?"
Then he saw it.
A clearing. One that hadn't been there before.
The space felt… wrong.
Trees uprooted, burned from the inside out. Cracked earth. And at the center—a sword buried in the ground. Black, with veins of deep red pulsing slowly, as if it had a heartbeat of its own.
Kaien took a step forward.
And the world changed.
The clearing seemed to breathe.
The air thickened, as if he'd plunged beneath an invisible lake. Every step toward the blade made the hum louder—not just in his ears, but in his skin, his bones, his chest.
The sword was no ordinary weapon. Its hilt looked like twisted black bone, its guard shaped like folded wings. But what truly mesmerized him was the blade—black as living obsidian, veined with pulsing crimson. Crimson like memory.
He reached out.
The hum became a scream.
"Kaien. Don't."
The voice wasn't his. Wasn't the forest's.
It was… the sword's.
His body froze. Not a command—a warning.
But before he could react, the ground shook.
KRSHHHH!
A tree exploded in a burst of splintered wood. From the dust and broken trunks, a creature emerged.
Twice the height of a house, with skin like charred moss and jagged, multi-jawed maw, the Beast of the Veil had eyes stitched shut with silver thread and claws that scarred the earth. A thing that did not belong in this time.
"No… You shouldn't exist," Kaien whispered, stumbling back.
The creature roared—a sound that scraped at the soul. The forest itself seemed to recoil.
Kaien ran.
He dove behind a thick tree, gasping for breath. The dagger at his belt was useless, and he knew it. Between him and the sword stood only the beast.
If only I could… hear the steel…
Another roar.
Kaien bolted the other way, circling the clearing. The creature followed, slow, savoring the hunt.
A misstep. A stumble.
Kaien fell.
The Beast lunged.
Pure instinct took over. Kaien rolled, then—in a burst of adrenaline—leaped for the sword. His fingers closed around the hilt just as the creature descended upon him.
And time shattered.
Kaien no longer saw the forest.
He was… somewhere else.
A battlefield. Warriors wielding black blades. A sky split open. A giant of iron and light collapsing in the distance. And at the center—himself, older, eyes burning gold, gripping the same sword.
"The memory is not yours."
"Who's there?!"
"But it will be."
The voice came from within the blade. From within him.
The vision erupted in light, and Kaien returned to reality.
But the world was no longer the same.
He could feel… everything.
The air around the creature vibrated with fear and rage. The earth remembered war. And the sword… sang.
He raised the blade.
As he did, symbols ignited along its dark surface. This was not just steel—it was soul fused with time.
The creature hesitated. For the first time, it flinched.
Kaien knew its name.
"Echosblood… Awaken."
The blade answered.
A horizontal slash. The air rippled. Sound cracked like thunder, and the beast was thrown back.
Kaien didn't know how he fought. But he knew he'd done it before. Not with his body. With his soul.
The creature roared and charged again. Kaien pivoted, barely dodging. A counterattack—a reverse thrust, followed by a sweeping motion called…
"Shatter Arc."
The blade carved a crimson semicircle in the air. Cuts that didn't exist physically, but echoed from the future, tore into the beast's limbs.
The Beast of the Veil shrieked in despair.
Kaien staggered back, panting. The sword pulsed in his grip like a living heart. He drove it into the earth, and one final echo rose from the metal:
"You saw… what does not exist."
The creature dissolved like dust in the wind—erased between layers of time.
Kaien fell to his knees.
The world around him felt too real. Every sound had weight. Every scent, a history.
He knew what had happened.
"Echoforge…" he whispered. "I… awakened it."
The sword hummed in response.
And in that moment, Kaien Thorne ceased to be just a boy.
He became the last smith of a forbidden legacy.
[END OF CHAPTER 1]