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The Royal Healer: Part 10
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2025-08-28 08:00:26The clash was immediate. Steel rang against steel, shouts filled the hall, and my heart hammered like a drum in my chest. Khaled’s men fought fiercely, but the numbers were overwhelming, holy knights, the priestess’s disciples, and the enemy soldiers poured in like a tide.
I tried to focus, moving to help, but every soldier I reached was struck down before I could even get close. The metallic tang of blood filled my senses, mingling with fear and desperation. I could see Khaled at the forefront, blade in hand, shielding me with every ounce of his strength, his armor slick with blood and sweat.“Khaled! We can’t-” I shouted, but my words were lost in the chaos.“Stay close!” he bellowed, swinging his sword in a wide arc, felling two attackers at once. “I’ll protect you!”But I knew the truth. Even Khaled, unbreakable, could not hold this line. Their numbers were too great. Panic clawed at my chest as I watched men I’d come to know, my companions, f
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Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire The Blacksmith Who Hammered Too Hot: Part 4
The guild posted board was loud with scribbles and adventurers barking at one another about rewards, but my eyes locked on the lower-rank jobs. Goblins. Pathetic things. Barely counted as monsters. That’s about the level they’d trust a fresh recruit like me with.Fine. I wasn’t here to play hero anyway.I was here for the dungeon. The ores. The kind of veins that don’t show up near the surface, the ones buried under layers of filth and blood. Goblins just happened to be standing in the way.I had my blade with me, the same one I spent nights forging, hammering, grinding, stroking into perfection. Still smelled faintly of steel and sweat. My sweat. My hands wouldn’t stop brushing the hilt. It was like walking beside a lover, trying not to reach for them every second.The woods were quiet when I found the pack. Four goblins, dragging some half-rotted carcass, laughing like idiots. Ugly things. My heart didn’t race at the danger.
Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire The Blacksmith Who Hammered Too Hot: Part 3
The workshop was quiet, just the way I liked it. No guild noise, no hammering fools who laughed too loud or mocked me for losing myself in the metal. Just me and the blade I’d dragged back from a junk pile, rusty, half-dead, like it had been buried in dirt for a hundred years. But it was mine.I sat in front of it, running a rag along the edge I’d spent days filing down. Even dulled, it caught the light in a way that sent heat crawling up my throat.“Damn thing,” I muttered, but my voice came out low, shaky. “Why does it feel like you’re watching me?”I shouldn’t think like that. It was just steel. Dead weight until I gave it shape. But when my thumb dragged along the flat, the metal hummed under me. It wasn’t sound, more like a tremor that shot right into my bones.And there it was again. That same burn. The one I never got with the girl at the inn. She’d been soft, warm, her hands eager enough. I’d pushed, kissed, thrust, but nothing.
Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire The Blacksmith Who Hammered Too Hot: Part 2
The guild doors creaked open and the noise inside hit me like the forge at full blast. Tankards slamming, boots dragging, voices barking. Adventurers all lined up, some proud in polished armor, some smelling worse than the stables. I stepped in, sword strapped across my back, the one I had spent weeks pounding, shaping, polishing until my arms shook. My sword. My first true piece I claimed as mine.Eyes followed me when I walked up to the counter. Probably because I still had that smith’s build, broad shoulders from swinging hammers, not swords. Sweat lines on my shirt, the smell of coal still hanging on me. The receptionist, a brunette with freckles and tits pressed up tight in her vest, looked me over slow. Her lips curved before she even said a word.“Name?” she asked, voice sweet.“Zenthos.” My throat was dry.“You’re here to register as an adventurer?” She had a faint smile, pen tapping against parchmen
Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire The Blacksmith Who Hammered Too Hot
They told me I had “dirty hands.” Not from soot, not from sweat, but from what I let creep into my head when the hammer was in my grip.That’s why they kicked me out of the forge.One of the masters caught me once, just standing there, eyes half-closed, hammer raised high but not coming down. Steel was glowing on the anvil, ready to be shaped, and I just… drifted. Watching the red metal pulse, hearing it hiss, I felt it crawl into me. Each swing I made felt less like I was forging a blade, and more like I was being forged with it.And yeah. It got me hard.Didn’t take long before they told me to piss off. No one wants a smith groaning at the sparks like some drunk at a brothel.So now it’s just me. No guild, no workshop. Just my own tools, my own corner of land, and my own shame. I gather my own ore, chop my own wood for the furnace, haul water from the river, everything. Adventurers call it “independence.” For me, it’s the only way I don
Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire The Royal Healer: Part 15
As moments passed, Khaled pulled out of me furiously. He slammed me down onto the mattress so hard the frame groaned. His weight pinned me, his hand already fisting my hair, forcing my head back so I had no choice but to bare my throat to him.“You think you can go to him, Heron?” His voice was pure gravel, low and dangerous. “I’ll ruin you before I ever let you go.”My chest heaved, words catching in my throat, but then heat pressed against my back, fingers sliding down my arms, lips dragging over my neck. The god. His laugh slid into my ear, cold and burning at the same time.“You’re mine too, little mortal,” he whispered. “And tonight, Khaled learns what it means to share.”Khaled’s snarl shook through me as he shoved my thighs open and thrust inside me in one brutal stroke. I cried out, fists twisting in the sheets, the stretch sharp and merciless. My body clenched around him, too raw, too much, but he didn’t slow, he never did.“Look
Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire The Royal Healer: Part 14
They argued back and forth, their voices echoing through the hall, rising and falling like a storm I could feel in my chest. The air shimmered around them, tension crackling, each word like a spark on dry tinder. And then, just like that, they vanished. Gone. As if their quarrel had been a gust of wind, sweeping them into their own realm. The hall fell into stunned silence. I blinked, trying to process the absence of their presence, while Khaled’s face twisted. Veins were visible along his temple, his jaw taut as if he was restraining some volcanic eruption inside him. “And… so the prophecy…” he muttered, each word trembling with barely contained fury, “…it was all because she was jealous?” I saw the flicker of something darker cross his eyes. The kind of rage that didn’t erupt but simmered, ready to spill at the slightest provocation. My chest tightened as I realized how close he was to snapping. Be
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