The dull red glow of the ancient forge casting flickering shadows on the cracked stone walls. Molten rivers of metal flowed beneath the ground like slumbering serpents, and every now and then, a breath of flame would burst from a vent, lighting up the curved ceiling like a dragon exhaling in sleep.
Kent stood still, arms folded, his eyes fixed on the massive, coiled form of Muni Naga, the legendary blacksmith sage. Half serpent and half ancient man, the old Naga sat lazily atop a heap of obsidian scales, smoke curling from his nostrils, as though he'd been half-asleep for decades. A dusty silence lingered until Muni Naga, without even opening his eyes, rasped in a gravelly voice:
"Mmm... So, what weapon does the little storm brat desire?"
Kent took a step forward, the lightning sigil on his palm flickering faintly in the forge light. His voice was calm but carried weight.
