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“The resurgence of the Emberforged?” Hali’s head was spinning. “But I thought they were all but gone.”
The man’s eyes blazed with a fierce light. “They will rise again. The Forge of Vulkan will see to that.”
“But at what cost?” Hali asked. “You and your Obsidian Circle, and the Forge of Vulkan, too . . . All you want is power. And you’re willing to destroy everything in your path to get it.”
“It is the way of the world,” the man said with a shrug. “There can be no rebirth without destruction. The Circle understands this. The Forge will learn.”
The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Hali’s mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything she’d just heard. The Obsidian Circle, the Forge of Vulkan, the primordial artifacts—they were all pieces of a puzzle she had never even known existed. And the picture they were painting was one of violent upheaval, of chaos and destruction.
She thought of Osric, of the passion and determination that burned in his eyes. He had sworn to her that he was working for a greater good, but how could she believe that, when the end result of his actions would be the same?
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She couldn’t afford to cry. She needed to be strong. Hali closed her eyes, letting the man’s words sink in. He was right. They were facing an enemy unlike anything she had ever imagined, with power and resources far beyond their reach. But that only made it all the more important that they find a way to stop them.
She opened her eyes, and looked at Sooty, and then at Pippa. Her friends, her companions in this strange and dangerous journey. They were all she had, but maybe, just maybe, they were enough.
“It won’t be easy,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “But we have to stop this. Both the Obsidian Circle and the Forge of Vulkan. We can’t let either of them get their hands on the primordial artifacts.”
Sooty and Pippa stared at her, their eyes wide.
“But how, Miss Hali?” Sooty asked. “We don’t even know where to begin.”
Hali’s mind was already racing, a plan taking shape. “I think I have an idea.” She turned to her friends. “Will you help me?”
Pippa’s eyes shone with unshed tears, but her chin was held high. “Of course, darling. You know I’ll follow you anywhere.”
Sooty hesitated for a moment, and then he nodded, a fierce glint in his eyes. “Always, Miss Hali. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Chapter
Sixteen
Osric sat alone in his quarters within the Forge of Vulkan’s hidden stronghold, the night before the Rite of the First Forging. The space was immaculate, every surface polished, every tool and weapon and scrap of supplies carefully stowed. He’d prepared for his journey, gathered all the necessary supplies, and reviewed his mission briefing with Agnith for the hundredth time. But as he stared at his reflection in a polished piece of obsidian, all he saw were the fiery runes on his skin, pulsing with an uneasy rhythm.
He should be focused on the task at hand, the mission that had consumed his thoughts for the past month. But try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Hali. Her name was a prayer on his lips, a taunting whisper in the back of his mind. He’d betrayed her, shattered the fragile trust that had been growing between them, and he didn’t know if it was a wound that could ever be healed.
A heavy weight settled in his chest, threatening to crush him with every labored breath. He missed her, missed the warmth of her smile, the soft lilt of her voice. He missed the way she looked at him, like he was something more than just a weapon to be wielded. For a brief, dangerous moment, he’d allowed himself to believe that he could be. But duty called, as it always did, and he’d answered, as he always did.
But the preparations around him felt hollow, devoid of the purpose that once drove him. What was the point of honing his skills, of mastering his magic and his craft, if it only served to drive a wedge between him and the one person who had made him feel truly alive? What was the point of all his training, all his sacrifices, if he had nothing to show for it but a heart weighed down with regret?
A sharp rap echoed through the stone chamber, and Osric rose to his feet, his hands instinctively curling into fists. He’d been dreading this summons, ever since their return from Jötuneld, but he knew there was no avoiding it. With one last glance in the mirror, he strode to the door and wrenched it open.
His mentor, Agnith, awaited him, his stern face illuminated by the flickering lava sconces that lined the walls. “It is time,” Agnith said. “The Council is waiting.”
Osric nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He fell into step behind Agnith, the only sound the soft hiss of lava flowing down the channels carved into the stone. The fortress was eerily quiet, the other Emberforged either lost in meditation, or, like Osric, preparing for the long night ahead.
As they wound their way through the corridors, other figures passed them, their faces shrouded in darkness. Osric caught snippets of hushed conversation, the same words echoing in the air. The Ritual of the First Forging. The Hammer of Earthblood. The power that would soon be theirs.
The excitement was palpable, but it only served to deepen the unease coiled in Osric’s belly. He had done his duty, had helped to secure the artifact for the Forge. But the cost had been higher than he ever could have imagined, and he didn’t know if he could face the ones he called his kin.
Finally, they reached the meeting chamber, a vast cavern carved from the heart of the volcano. A massive obsidian table dominated the space, its surface polished to a mirror sheen. The Council of the Forge was already assembled, their faces wreathed in shadows as they studied a set of intricate diagrams spread out before them.
“Osric,” Agnith said, beckoning him forward. “Come. You need to hear this.”
Osric took his place at the table, the cool surface of the obsidian sending his reflection glaring back at him. The diagrams before them were a tangle of arcane symbols and geometric patterns, but as he studied them, he began to make out the shape of the volcano, the flow of lava, the beating heart at the its core. And at the center of it all, the Hammer of Earthblood, a blazing point of light.
“The final preparations for the Rite have been made,” Agnith said, his voice echoing in the chamber. “The Anvil of Destiny is ready to receive the Hammer’s power.”
Osric’s heart pounded in his ears as Agnith outlined the details of the ritual. The mass sacrifice of the Obsidian Circle members, their life force used to empower the Hammer. The forging of the Anvil, a vessel of unimaginable power. The Forge’s plans to reshape the world, to bring order and control to the chaos.
