Eryx stood in front of the forge, the crimson stone still gleaming ominously on his workbench. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, the pull of the relic seemed to grow stronger with every passing hour. The rest of the night had been restless; every time he closed his eyes, he saw flashes of a world burning, shadowy figures in battle, and a crimson dragon soaring through the sky.
“This is insane,” he muttered, shaking his head as he stared down at the broken sword hilt. His mind kept replaying the stranger’s words, You must fix it.
But how? He was just a blacksmith’s apprentice. What did he know about ancient relics or magical prophecies?
The door to the smithy creaked open, and Finn strolled in, as usual. “Morning, Eryx! Or should I say, ‘Bearer of the Crimson Relic’?” He grinned, obviously enjoying this too much.
“Not funny, Finn,” Eryx grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”
Finn leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Still hearing spooky voices?”
“Nothing since last night, but I keep having these… visions. Like something’s trying to show me something. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Finn shrugged. “Well, at least you’re not hearing voices and seeing things. That’d be a whole new level of weird.”
Eryx shot him a look. “Thanks, that helps a lot.”
Finn chuckled. “So what’s the plan? Are you actually going to try to fix the sword, or are we just going to stare at it until something magical happens?”
Eryx sighed. “I don’t know where to even start. It’s not like I’ve got some ancient blacksmithing manual lying around.”
Finn picked up a small piece of scrap metal, tossing it between his hands. “You’ve got to admit, though, this is kinda exciting. I mean, how often does something like this happen? Magical relics, mysterious prophecies—this is the stuff of legends.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather read about it in a book than live it,” Eryx muttered, eyeing the stone warily. “For all I know, this thing is cursed, and the second I try to fix it, I’ll turn into a toad.”
Finn snorted. “If that happens, I’ll find you a nice pond.”
Before Eryx could retort, the door to the smithy flew open with a loud bang. The stranger from the previous day strode in, their cloak billowing behind them. This time, their hood was down, revealing a woman with piercing blue eyes and silver hair that shimmered unnaturally in the dim light.
“You’ve had long enough,” she said, her voice sharp. “Have you made progress?”
Eryx stared, caught off guard by her sudden reappearance. “I… well, I haven’t exactly—”
“No excuses,” she interrupted. “Time is running out, and you have been chosen by the Crimson Stone. Whether you like it or not, your destiny is tied to it.”
Finn, ever the opportunist, stepped forward with a grin. “Wow, no pressure or anything.”
The woman ignored him, her eyes locked on Eryx. “There are forces at play far beyond this village. If you do not reforge the blade soon, the balance of power will tip, and this world will fall into darkness.”
Eryx blinked. “Okay, hold on a second. Who are you?”
The woman hesitated for a moment, then spoke. “My name is Kaelen. I am a Guardian of the Veil—an ancient order tasked with protecting the balance between worlds.”
Finn raised an eyebrow. “Oh, great. Guardians, magical relics—what’s next? An evil sorcerer bent on world domination?”
Kaelen’s expression darkened. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
Finn’s grin faltered. “Wait, seriously?”
Kaelen turned back to Eryx. “The Crimson Relic is more than just a weapon. It is the key to unlocking a power that has been sealed away for centuries. There are those who seek to claim that power for themselves—forces that will stop at nothing to see the world burn.”
Eryx felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “And… I’m supposed to stop that? Me?”
Kaelen’s eyes softened slightly. “You are not alone. Others will join you in this fight. But the stone chose you for a reason. You must be the one to reforge the blade and wield its power.”
Finn, trying to lighten the mood, gave Eryx a playful nudge. “Well, looks like you’re officially a hero now, buddy.”
Eryx scowled. “I don’t want to be a hero.”
Kaelen crossed her arms. “Want it or not, destiny has a way of finding you. You don’t have to understand it right now. You just need to trust that the path you’re on is the right one.”
Eryx stared at the broken hilt on the workbench. The crimson stone gleamed faintly, as if beckoning him. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
Kaelen’s gaze softened further. “The sword was forged in a fire not of this world. To restore it, you must find the same fire.”
Finn frowned. “Oh great. So where do we find that? Some mystical volcano on a mountain far away?”
Kaelen actually smiled, though it was a faint, sad smile. “The answer lies in the Ember Caverns, deep within the Silverthorn Mountains.”
Eryx groaned. “Of course it does. I couldn’t just use the forge out back.”
Kaelen stepped forward, her tone growing more urgent. “You don’t have much time. There are others searching for the relic. If they find you before the sword is reforged…”
Eryx nodded, already sensing that there was no escaping this. “Alright. I’ll do it.”
Finn clapped him on the back, grinning. “That’s the spirit! A good old-fashioned adventure. I’ll pack snacks.”
Kaelen shot Finn a disapproving look but said nothing. She handed Eryx a small, intricately carved stone. “This will guide you to the Ember Caverns. Keep it safe.”
Eryx took the stone, feeling its weight in his hand. “What happens after I reforge the sword?”
Kaelen’s expression grew serious once more. “Then the true battle begins.”
