The soul forge hummed beneath Kaden's palm, its surface warm as living flesh.
He'd spent the past hour sharpening his focus, the new skill notification still glowing in the corner of his vision: [Soul Resonance Enchantment Unlocked].
The system's description had been vague—"Infuse weapons with the forger's essence to create a bond beyond metal and hand" - but the urgency in its tone when he 'd first activated the soul furnace lingered.
A tool or a test, he'd wondered then.
Now, with Serena's warning still fresh in his mind—you are the vessel—he wondered if the answer was both.
He'd chosen the metal carefully: a chunk of silvery ore mined from the northern cliffs, its surface unmarred by impurities.
The system had flagged it as "Pure Embersteel," a rare alloy that "resonates with spiritual frequencies." Perfect for testing a skill that dealt in souls.
"Here goes," he muttered, placing the ore on the anvil.
The forge flared as he struck it, the first hammer blow sending sparks that hung in the air, suspended, before dissolving into faint red mist.
His pulse quickened.
That hadn't happened before.
"System," he said, voice low, "initiate Soul Resonance Enchantment."
Confirm activation?
The prompt flickered.
He nodded. "Confirm."
The forge erupted.
Flames shot upward, not the usual orange, but a searing gold that cast shadows like claws across the walls.
Kaden staggered back, his breath catching.
The Embersteel glowed, its surface rippling as if liquid.
Then—lines.
Red lines, thin as veins, snaking across the metal.
They pulsed, keeping time with his heartbeat.
What are you responding to?
he thought, sweat beading on his brow.
The hammer felt heavier in his grip, its flame patterns now blazing bright enough to hurt his eyes.
He struck again, and the red lines deepened, branching like roots seeking soil.
The first tremor hit as he raised the hammer for the final strike.
The shop shuddered.
A shelf of tools clattered to the floor.
Outside, the air thickened—black, rolling fog seeped through the cracks in the window, coiling like living things.
Serena's gasp cut through the noise.
He turned to see her pressed against the doorframe, her hands clasped over her mouth, eyes wide as coins.
Beyond her, the streetlights winked out one by one, plunging the town into twilight.
"Serena!" he barked, already moving.
The Embersteel weapon—now a longsword, its blade etched with the red veins—thrummed in his hands.
"Get back!"
But she wasn't looking at him.
Her trembling finger pointed past the open door.
Through the fog, shapes moved: indistinct figures, taller than men, their outlines shifting like smoke.
One turned toward the shop, its head tilting as if sniffing the air.
Kaden's stomach dropped.
The seal.
The old tales said the fog was a prison containing whatever remained of the shattered soul.
But he'd broken it.
By using the soul forge, by infusing his own essence—he'd torn a hole in the barrier.
"System!" he snapped.
"Seal the weapon. Now."
Soul Vessel Sealed.
Activating Concealment Protocol.
The longsword vanished into the forge with a soft whoosh.
"Flame Barrier—maximum output!"
The forge roared, a wall of fire erupting around the shop.
The fog recoiled, hissing as it met the flames.
Serena darted to his side, her hand grabbing his wrist.
He felt her pulse racing, rapid as a bird's.
"Stay close," he said, though she couldn't hear.
She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Then the knocking started.
Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.
Low, deliberate, like a hammer on an anvil.
Kaden froze.
That rhythm—he'd heard it a hundred times in his youth, when Master Hawke had taught him the secret codes of the wandering smiths: three taps, a pause, two more, another pause.
A signal of trust.
But Master Hawke was dead.
The knocking came again, louder.
Serena's grip tightened.
Kaden met her gaze—fear, yes, but also a flicker of recognition.
She'd heard it too, once, in the stories Master Hawke had scribbled for her.
He reached for the door latch.
"Kaden—" Serena tugged at his arm, her eyes pleading.
"I have to," he said, though his throat felt dry.
"It's… it's our code."
The door creaked open.
Fog rolled in, cold enough to make his breath mist.
The street was empty.
No figures, no movement—only the faint glow of the flame barrier keeping the darkness at bay.
But on the ground, where the fog had thinned, a rune glowed: a circle within a triangle, the mark of the forging god.
Fresh, etched into the stone with something sharp, maybe a claw.
Serena stepped out beside him, crouching to trace the rune with her fingertip.
She looked up, her eyes wide.
It wasn't there before, she mouthed.
Kaden knelt, pressing his palm to the stone.
It hummed under his touch, vibrating with a frequency that made his teeth ache.
A summons, he realized.
To the remnant soul of the Forging God.
Or to whatever hunted it.
"Inside," he said, hauling her up.
The fog was thickening again, the flame barrier dimming.
"Now."
They barred the door just as the knocking resumed—faster, angrier,