The dawn cast a weak, watery light over Graymaw as Kaden stepped outside the forge, his boots crunching on dew-wet cobblestones.
The air smelled of damp ash and something older—like rusted iron left to rot in a forgotten crypt.
His gaze swept the perimeter of the shop, where last night's mysterious rune had etched itself into the stone.
Now, there was nothing but smooth, unmarked mortar.
Until his eyes landed on the doorframe.
Hanging from a frayed leather thong was a copper bell, its surface pocked with rust, the clapper dangling at an odd angle.
Kaden's fingers curled around the hilt of his hammer as he approached.
The bell hadn't been there at sunset; he'd locked the shop himself, double-checking the hinges.
Who left this?
Serena appeared at his shoulder, her breath ghosting his ear.
She pointed wordlessly at the bell, her fingers trembling.
Kaden didn't need her to sign to know she felt it too—the low, thrumming hum beneath the silence, like a blacksmith's anvil vibrating before a strike.
He reached out.
The moment his knuckles brushed the bell, it shuddered.
A single, ear-splitting note rang out, sharp enough to make his teeth ache.
Ding.
The system's warning blared in his mind, cold and urgent: "Seal integrity compromised. Immediate defensive protocols required. Repeat—seal integrity compromised."
Kaden's head snapped up.
The fog, which had retreated at dawn, was rolling back.
Not the thin mist of morning, but thick, churning tendrils that swallowed the street in seconds.
Shapes materialized within it—pale, semi-transparent figures, each clutching a rusted hammer.
Their movements were jerky, like marionettes with half their strings cut, and their eyes… empty.
Hollow as blown glass.
Serena grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong for someone so slight.
She pressed a warm metal shard to his chest—a fragment of a horseshoe, he realized, etched with faint runes.
Then she lifted her hands, fingers flying in the sign language he'd taught her: "They're bound here. Summoned." Her eyes flickered, and for an instant, that sometimes haunted his dreams glowed faintly in her irises.
"Stay behind me," Kaden said, his voice steady despite the hammering of his heart.
He spun, slamming his palm against the forge's wall.
The system responded: heat flared, a wall of orange flame erupting around the shop, crackling like a living thing.
Flame Barrier—unlocked at Shop Level 3.
Good.
The first lurched forward, its hammer raised.
Kaden drew the Soul Resonance Dagger from his belt—his first successful soul-forged weapon, its blade pulsing with a faint, bioluminescent glow.
He swung.
The blade sliced through the dead's chest, and where it touched, fire spread - crimson, not orange devouring the ghostly form until there was nothing but a wisp of smoke.
"Bloodline resonance detected. Attack power increased by 15%." The system's voice was calmer now, almost approving.
Kaden didn't have time to process it.
More dead souls poured from the fog, their hammers clanging as they closed in.
He fought mechanically at first—parry, strike, incinerate—but as the battle wore on, something shifted.
His palms tingled, the old scar on his wrist (a gift from his master's final lesson) burning like it had been dipped in molten steel.
The dagger hummed in his hand, its light brightening with each kill.
Serena wasn't idle.
She darted between the flames, hurling shards of heated iron from the forge—nails, broken horseshoes, anything she could grab—each piece igniting as it left her grip.
Her face was set, determined, her usual timidity replaced by a fierce focus.
Once, a's hammer grazed her arm; she didn't flinch, just wiped the blood on her apron and kept throwing.
By dusk, the tide of the dead began to ebb.
The fog thinned, revealing a street littered with ash.
Kaden staggered, his breath ragged, the dagger's hilt slick with sweat.
Then, the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
At the far end of the street, a figure materialized.
Tall, broader than any man, cloaked in the tattered remains of a blacksmith's apron, its face hidden by a hood.
But Kaden didn't need to see the face.
He felt it—the same burn in his veins, the same hum that had vibrated the bell.
the figure raised a hand, and where its palm should be, a glowing brand pulsed.
"Welcome home, heir," a voice rumbled, not through his ears but his bones.
The words were old, layered with the grit of centuries.
Kaden's legs threatened to give out.
His blood sang, his scar blazing so hot he thought it might split his skin.
The system pinged: "Bloodline awakening progress: 10%."
Before he could move, the figure dissolved into mist.
The fog retreated entirely, leaving the street empty save for ash and the faint smell of ozone.
Serena sank to her knees beside him, her hands gentle as she checked his wounds.
When he looked up, her eyes were clear again, but her jaw was set—a line of determination he'd never seen before.
"We need to reinforce the seals," she