"Make the shot count."
Her eyes snapped open, and her body was drenched in sweat. Nikki's heart pounded like a drum, but she slowly managed to see the well-ornamented ceiling of her room.
Every time she closed her eyes, the voice of that boy echoed in her mind. Not a single day went by without nightmares of him and that albino serpent.
"Someone capable of that... couldn't have died. Damn it, where are you, Oliver?" She dug her hands into her hair and began pulling at it. She always did that when desperate and alone. Her mother hated it, but was too busy to notice the habit.
Knock-knock!
"Come in." Nikki quickly covered herself with her sheets and tidied her hair.
"Miss Romanov, the scouts returned a few minutes ago, just after sunrise, and reported no new sightings of students at the state school," one of the mansion's maids said mechanically, and Nikki nodded.
"Thank you, you're dismissed." As soon as the doors closed, she stood up.
Her body felt stronger, and when she looked at herself in the mirror...
Her height was steady at 1.75m, her shoulders more refined. Her entire figure was toned, and her skin was flawless, completely white. Her long red hair cascaded down her back and stopped at her waist.
It was a striking sight. She never considered herself particularly beautiful, but now, she could probably rival famous actresses. However, one thing stood out. Right on her sculpted abdomen, a mark.
Oliver had done a supernatural job pulling her from the brink of death, but a scar remained. A long gash over the barely healed skin distorted half of her stomach and reminded her every day of its author.
"I'm going to kill you... Samuel!"
Bam-bam!
Nikki quickly turned to her balcony and put on her robe. Once she was decently presentable, she walked to the curtains and opened them. The world outside revealed itself with a lazy sunrise greeting her.
Bam-bam!
Her eyes shifted to the inner walls of the mansion and followed the sound of metal. There, at the back of the garden near the wall, smoke billowed in thick clouds and a forge roared with life. The sound of hammer hitting metal came from there. For some reason, no one dared complain about the blacksmith.
"Who'd be crazy enough to pick a fight with the guy making your weapons... Probably only Gael."
It didn't take long for the glowing embers to catch her gaze, and Nikki fell into a meditative trance, letting the rhythm of the hammering guide her thoughts.
---
The fire bathed his face and all he could see were embers, but he kept hammering. With every swing, more force was poured into the strikes.
His hands were already exhausted, and the day had barely begun. Maybe the workload was overwhelming, but to hell with it.
He gripped tighter and felt his calluses tear under the pressure, yet he didn't stop hammering.
"If it had been better..." he muttered as the blade finally took shape.
A beautiful long sword, glowing orange, yet elegant and well-balanced.
The blacksmith set it aside into a shallow water basin, and steam rose into the forge's chimney.
The forge had been a request from Nikki and was quickly approved by her mother once she realized she could arm her militia easily.
It wasn't big, but was built geometrically, resembling a gazebo made of stone with a chimney venting the smoke above. In the center, a pile of glowing coals, this was the heart of the forge, where the metal was heated.
The blacksmith ignored the finished blade and grabbed more metal. His hands began to move, and soon, he felt the fire respond. The flames came alive, more heat poured out.
His hands struck again, and the metal yielded to his will. It shaped itself with each blow.
"But... If my blade hadn't broken..." His mind kept reliving that moment with every hammer strike.
His eyes had opened, and they were in that clearing. He didn't know how long the fight had gone on, but David lay nearly dead on the ground and Oliver was engaged in combat with that man.
He was about to lose, but the sword Lucas had forged, the one he had improvised, began to glow red. Before he could see more, a world of flames erupted. Then he felt a sting on his neck and everything went dark.
His mind had shut down and only returned when the sword he created shattered into fragments and the once-contained flames burst out.
That was the last thing he saw before blacking out completely.
"If it had been stronger! Well made! If I'd done a good job! HE WOULD BE HERE!"
"Lucas..."
A voice pulled the blacksmith from his trance, and when he looked, the metal had overheated, leaving only a warped outline of a blade.
He raised his eyes to the forge's entrance and saw his best friend standing there, staring at the absence of his arm, and another wave of guilt crashed over him, making him lower his head.
---
The situation worsened every time he saw his brother. At first, he thought it was just his obsession with forging, but now it was obvious.
This obsession had become his escape, but it was killing him. Once pale, Lucas now had tanned skin and defined muscles all over his arms.
Arms burned by the forge, covered in bandages from end to end.
Gabriel could still see a discreet red hue he tried hard to hide.
Lucas was forging until his hands bled and tore apart. He was destroying himself in the most painful way possible.
"I brought the order list and came to pick up Aline's spear." Gabriel had fought with him for a long time and tried everything to pull him away from that place. In the end, missing an arm had turned him into a useless errand boy, not someone strong enough to change anything.
Lucas stopped hammering for a few seconds and turned to fetch a bundle from the back of the forge. It was wrapped in cloth with a knot, but it was clearly a spear.
"Here." He was dry and precise, doing everything to return to forging.
"Little brother... Why don't you come with us and-"
"Gabriel! Let me forge in peace!" His shout was Gabriel's cue to leave. He was already on edge; staying would only worsen their bond.
He left with the wrapped spear in hand and took a deep breath.
"At least I think Aline's going to like the gift."