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Chapter 3: Forging the Path of Fire

The rhythmic clang of hammer on steel echoed through the vaults of Edrion Kārtys. Aerion Vórenyx, his small hands wrapped in oiled leather, stood barefoot before the forge as sparks danced like fireflies around him. Even as heat pressed in like a wall, his eyes gleamed with focus. The flames didn't frighten him. They welcomed him.

"Again," barked Uncle Queldor.

Aerion lifted the hammer and brought it down on the glowing bar of iron. Sweat streamed down his neck, but he didn't falter.

[Smithing +1] Skill Gained: Forging Basics II

At night, while other children dreamt of dragons and adventure, Aerion studied blueprints — ancient schematics of wargear, runes carved in forgotten tongues, and diagrams of ships with hulls reinforced by obsidian plating. Knowledge from both worlds churned in his mind: from alloying techniques of his past life to the magical metallurgy of Valyria.

He was building something. Something no one else in the Freehold possessed: a hybrid of innovation, memory, and madness.

Whispered Lessons and First Blood

Weeks passed. Aerion turned six.

Lady Saena, his mother, gifted him a slim dagger made from obsidian, carved with their family sigil — a spiral of black flame. Its edge shimmered faintly with dormant enchantment.

"Use it only when you must," she said, pressing her lips to his brow.

He hid the dagger beneath his tunic, knowing full well he would use it sooner than she hoped.

In the training yard, Ser Morros paired him against a boy three years older.

"Show me you can bleed and not cry, Vórenyx," Morros growled.

The older boy struck first, wild and heavy-handed. Aerion sidestepped, calculated, waited. One opening. One slip.

He struck with precision — a feint, a twist, a hit to the ribs that knocked the wind from the larger boy.

[Combat Skill +1] Trait Gained: Calm in Battle

Ser Morros grunted approval. "You fight like a shadow with a sword."

That night, Kaelar, the Echo of Steel, appeared beside Aerion's bed.

"You must learn to kill soon."

Aerion didn't flinch. "Then teach me."

The First Blueprint

At dawn, deep in the forge-vaults, Aerion traced runes onto vellum and sketched a weapon. Not a dagger. Not a sword. A blade curved like a serpent, with dragonbone teeth embedded along the edge and a core that could hold enchantment.

He called it: Wyrmshear.

NEW CRAFTING QUEST UNLOCKED: Wyrmshear: A Blade for the Reforged

Objective 1: Acquire dragonbone (0/1 unit)

Objective 2: Imbue weapon with fire magic (0%)

Objective 3: Successfully forge the blade (0/1)

He would build this weapon. He would make it his legend.

But to do so, he needed to break three rules:

Enter the restricted vaults below the crypts.

Steal dragonbone from the sealed reliquary of Thraelyx.

Survive the enchantment trial alone.

Kaelar did not try to stop him.

"I will guard the door," the echo said.

Into the Depths

The crypt beneath Bloodstone Hold was silent but not empty. He slipped past the stone wyrms, the preserved bones of ancient beasts. Magic tingled in the air.

The reliquary of Thraelyx shimmered with protective wards.

[Arcane Knowledge Check: Success] Runes identified: Flame Ward, Blood Sigil, Temporal Lock

He sliced his palm, whispered words from a forbidden book, and placed his blood on the sigil.

The ward flared. Then faded.

Inside, the bones of Thraelyx lay coiled like an ashen god. Aerion took a single rib. It pulsed with dormant heat.

Quest Progress: Dragonbone Acquired (1/1)

He fled before the wards rearmed.

Fire and Madness

The enchantment ritual began that night in secret. In the shadowed forge, with Kaelar watching, Aerion whispered incantations from Maester Thalon's smuggled scrolls.

He poured fire into the metal.

He channeled his fear, his memory, his wrath.

The forge shrieked.

[Magic Skill +1] Enchantment Attempt Successful

He struck the final blow with the hammer.

Wyrmshear was born.

ITEM CREATED: Wyrmshear (Unique)

+15% damage to scaled creatures

Chance to burn on hit

Fire-Affinity Weapon: Can be further enhanced

Aerion stared at it, breathless.

He was six years old.

And he had forged his legend.

End of Chapter 3