Three days had passed since Eron had earned the old man's grudging praise.Three days of heat, hammering, and the unending scent of burnt metal that clung to his clothes and hair like a second skin.
But the words the old man had thrown at him that day, 'Never come to my house again' still clawed at the back of his mind.
It wasn't the tone that bothered him. The old man cursed like he breathed. No, it was the fear in his eyes when Eron had shown up unannounced. The way his hand had twitched toward the door in the corner of his house before shoving Eron away.
That door…It was kinda plain outside of the magical engraving on it. Yet somehow it radiated an invisible weight, as though it guarded something far beyond the worth of the rusty hinges it hung upon.
Eron had told himself he wouldn't pry. He had told himself the forge was all that mattered. But telling himself something and actually believing it were two entirely different things.
