Chapter 2: The Blacksmith's Apprentice

Kael groaned as he rolled out of bed, his body protesting against the movement. His limbs felt heavier than usual, and his head ached as though he had spent the entire night drinking—except he hadn’t. It was those damn dreams again. Fire, shadows, strange voices calling his name. At this point, he was starting to think he had been cursed at birth.

With a loud yawn, he stumbled toward the washbasin in the corner of his tiny room. The reflection staring back at him was nothing impressive—dark, messy hair, sharp eyes, and a face that always looked a little too serious. He splashed cold water on himself, rubbing his face aggressively in the hope that it would somehow wipe away his exhaustion. It didn’t.

Outside, the village of Rendell was already waking up. The sounds of chatter, the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, and the distant ringing of Darin’s forge reminded him that he had a long day ahead.

As if on cue, a deep voice boomed from outside.

“KAEL! If you’re not in my shop in the next five minutes, I swear on my hammer I’ll drag you out by your ears!”

Kael sighed. Darin had the patience of a saint—until he didn’t. And Kael had tested that patience far too many times.

The Forge and the Fury

Kael arrived at the blacksmith’s shop just in time to see Darin swinging a massive hammer, striking a heated piece of metal with the kind of precision only years of experience could bring. Sparks flew with each impact, illuminating the older man’s sweat-covered face.

Darin paused, wiped his brow, and gave Kael a look that was equal parts disappointment and amusement. “You look like a dead man walking.”

“Feel like one too,” Kael muttered.

The blacksmith grunted. “Well, if you’re dead, might as well make yourself useful before I bury you.” He tossed Kael a pair of tongs. “We’ve got an order for horseshoes, and unless you’ve suddenly discovered a hidden talent for magic, we’re making them the old-fashioned way.”

Kael caught the tongs with a yelp, nearly dropping them. “One of these days, you’re going to give me an actual concussion.”

Darin smirked. “And yet, you keep coming back. Now get to work.”

The next few hours were spent in the usual rhythm of the forge—heating metal, shaping it, cooling it in water, and repeating the process. Kael had been working under Darin for years now, and while he wasn’t terrible at it, he also wasn’t particularly passionate.

He wanted… more.

He didn’t know what "more" meant, exactly. Adventure? A grand purpose? At the very least, something more exciting than hitting metal all day.

At midday, Darin finally called for a break. Kael dropped onto a wooden bench with a dramatic sigh, stretching his sore arms.

Darin sat beside him, drinking from a mug of water before glancing at Kael with a knowing look. “So, when are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

Kael hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Darin—he was practically family—but how did he even begin to explain the restless feeling inside him? The strange dreams? The unshakable sense that he was meant for something else?

Instead, he shrugged. “I don’t know. Just… weird dreams, I guess.”

Darin raised an eyebrow. “The kind that involve beautiful women or terrifying monsters?”

Kael snorted. “Neither. Just… fire, shadows, voices. It’s stupid.”

Darin was quiet for a moment before he shrugged. “Dreams are just that—dreams. Unless they start predicting the weather, I wouldn’t put too much stock in them.”

Kael chuckled. “You’re probably right.”

A Strange Encounter

After lunch, Kael decided to take a walk through the village. He needed air.

Rendell was a small but lively place, filled with farmers, merchants, and craftsmen all going about their day. He passed by the baker’s shop, the smell of fresh bread making his stomach grumble, and waved at Old Man Relk, who was attempting to chase a chicken out of his garden.

“KAEL, YOU LAZY BRAT, HELP ME CATCH THIS DEMON BIRD!” the old man shouted.

Kael grinned. “Sorry, can’t! Prior engagements with… uh… not getting pecked to death.”

“USELESS!” Relk yelled as the chicken flapped past him, victorious.

Kael laughed to himself and continued down the road, heading toward the outskirts of the village. He didn’t know why, but he felt… drawn there.

And that’s when he saw it.

A figure stood at the treeline, cloaked in black, its face hidden beneath a hood. Despite the warmth of the afternoon sun, a chill ran down Kael’s spine.

The figure raised its hand.

And Kael felt something inside him snap.

A sharp pain shot through his head, and suddenly, memories—not his own—flashed before his eyes.

A grand hall of gods.

A burning light.

A cradle.

A fall.

His breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled back. “What the hell…”

The figure tilted its head. And then, in a voice that sent shivers down Kael’s spine, it spoke.

"You are not meant to be here, young god."

Kael blinked. “Wait, what?”

He stared at the figure, waiting for them to laugh and say just kidding!

They didn’t.

“Okay,” Kael muttered, rubbing his temples. “Clearly, I’m losing my mind. First the dreams, now mysterious strangers calling me a god.” He let out a nervous laugh. “What’s next? A dragon falling from the sky?”

A loud roar suddenly echoed from above.

Kael froze.

“…I was joking.”

To Be Continued…

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