Eryx Thorne wiped the sweat from his brow as the hammer struck the hot iron, sending sparks flying into the dimly lit smithy. His arms ached from hours of forging, but the steady rhythm of metal on metal brought a strange kind of peace. As the village blacksmith’s apprentice, his days were filled with hard work, the clang of iron, and the smell of burning coal. The rest of the world felt far away, and Eryx liked it that way—until today.
“Eryx!” The voice of his master, Old Man Luthar, bellowed from the front of the smithy. “Get out here, lad. We’ve got customers.”
Eryx grunted, placing the half-finished sword into the water barrel with a hiss. The last thing he wanted was to deal with customers. As he emerged from the back of the shop, wiping his hands on his leather apron, he froze.
Standing at the counter was not the usual farmer needing a new plow or villager asking for a horseshoe. Instead, a tall, cloaked figure loomed over the small space, a hood pulled low over their face. The air around them seemed… different. He couldn’t place it, but something about this person sent a chill down his spine.
“I need a blade reforged,” the stranger said in a low, gravelly voice.
Eryx glanced at Luthar, who was eyeing the customer with suspicion but nodded for him to go ahead. “What kind of blade?” Eryx asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
The figure reached into their cloak and pulled out a small object wrapped in cloth. Unfurling the fabric, Eryx saw it—a broken sword hilt with a gleaming red stone embedded in the crossguard. The stone seemed to pulse with its own light, as if alive. Eryx’s breath caught in his throat. He’d never seen anything like it.
“This is… rare,” Eryx managed to say, eyes locked on the stone.
“It’s a relic,” the stranger replied, their voice hard. “One that needs fixing.”
Eryx felt the weight of the hilt as he lifted it, the crimson stone thrumming faintly in his hand. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from it. “I’m not sure we have the materials to—”
“You’ll find a way,” the stranger interrupted. “You must.”
The pressure of the words seemed to press against Eryx’s chest. He glanced at Luthar again, hoping for guidance, but the old man merely stroked his beard thoughtfully.
“Eryx, take a closer look,” Luthar finally said, voice unusually calm. “This isn’t a simple piece.”
No kidding, Eryx thought, but nodded. “Alright,” he said slowly. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The stranger lingered for a moment, as if sizing him up, then turned abruptly and left the shop without another word, the door creaking shut behind them.
“Strange one,” Luthar muttered. “But that stone… Eryx, take care with this. It might be more trouble than it’s worth.”
Eryx looked down at the relic in his hands. “What do you think it is?”
“Trouble,” Luthar replied with a grunt. “But you’ll find out soon enough, I reckon.”
Hours later, deep in the smithy…
Eryx stood alone, the strange hilt laid out on his workbench. The crimson stone still pulsed faintly, casting an eerie glow. He’d examined it from every angle, but nothing about it made sense. He felt drawn to it, as if it was calling to him. He shook his head. I’m imagining things.
“Alright, let’s see what you’re made of,” he muttered to himself, reaching for his tools. As he touched the hilt again, a sudden surge of heat shot up his arm, and the world tilted sideways.
“What the—” Eryx staggered back, blinking. The stone now glowed brighter, almost as if it were… alive?
Before he could react, a voice echoed in his mind, deep and ancient. “Bearer of the Crimson Relic… your destiny awaits.”
Eryx dropped the hilt like it was a hot coal. “Great. Now I’m hearing voices. Perfectly normal.”
He backed away slowly, half expecting the hilt to jump off the table and attack him. But nothing happened. It just sat there, gleaming ominously.
“Okay, Eryx,” he muttered to himself, pacing the room. “You’re going crazy. First, mysterious strangers. Now, a talking rock. What’s next? A dragon showing up for tea?”
As if on cue, the door to the smithy creaked open, and a familiar voice called out, “Hey, Eryx, you busy?”
Eryx turned, relieved to see his childhood friend, Finn, sauntering into the shop. Finn was grinning, as usual, with that carefree swagger that always seemed to put Eryx at ease.
“Finn, you have no idea how glad I am to see you right now.”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “What, Luthar finally run you into the ground?”
“Not exactly,” Eryx said, glancing back at the relic. “I… I think this sword hilt just talked to me.”
Finn blinked, then burst out laughing. “You’re serious? You’ve been in the forge too long, man.”
“No, really. I’m not crazy. It said something about a destiny and… look, just come here.” Eryx grabbed Finn’s arm and dragged him to the workbench. “See that stone? It’s… weird.”
Finn peered at the hilt, his grin fading slightly. “Okay, I’ll admit, that’s… odd. Where’d it come from?”
“Some stranger brought it in. Told me to reforge the blade. But then when I touched it, I heard this voice in my head. Like, ancient spooky voice.”
Finn looked from the stone to Eryx, then back again. “You’re not messing with me, right?”
“I wish I were.”
Finn leaned in closer, squinting at the relic. “Well, if it starts floating or something, I’m out of here.”
Eryx let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll race you to the door.”
Before they could contemplate the relic any further, the door to the smithy banged open again, and Luthar stormed in. “What are you two doing in here, gawking like a couple of hens?”
Eryx jumped, quickly stepping away from the relic. “Uh, nothing, Master Luthar. Just… talking about this weird sword.”
Luthar eyed the hilt on the table, his expression darkening. “That’s no ordinary sword. I’ve seen stones like that before. Powerful, dangerous things. Best you stay away from it.”
“Yeah, well, that’s going to be hard when I’m supposed to fix it,” Eryx muttered.
Luthar sighed, shaking his head. “You fix it, then you get rid of it. That relic is nothing but bad news, lad. Mark my words.”
Eryx exchanged a glance with Finn, who mouthed, told you so.
“Great. Just what I needed,” Eryx muttered under his breath. “A cursed talking sword.”
Finn slapped him on the back, grinning. “Hey, look on the bright side! At least your life just got a lot more interesting.”
Eryx rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because that’s exactly what I wanted—more trouble.”
As Finn laughed, and Luthar grumbled something about “damn kids and cursed artifacts,” Eryx couldn’t shake the feeling that his life had just changed forever. Whether for better or worse, only time would tell.
But one thing was certain—nothing would ever be the same after that crimson stone entered his world.
