Blacksmith Coal Novels & Stories

Gabriella asked. “The blacksmith isn't an abyss demon, so your new alpha aura won't affect him. His power may seem a lot like that of an abyss demon, but he's far from one,” Margret replied. ~Present~ “Hey,” Gabriella said as she stepped forward. The blacksmith stood quietly, staring directly at Gabriella. Black smoke rose from his body into the air, and small sparks flew out in random directions. “Something is wrong here,” Derren said. “What do you mean?” Angela asked.

My heart felt like it had turned to ice. The mine used to be a place where we got clean coal and iron that helped our people in the North.. Now it was like a big wound in the earth. There were veins of crystal, the Black Marrow, that looked like they were pulsing with a bad energy. Down in the pit the workers were moving in a way like they were puppets on strings. There were children there too with black dust all over their faces and empty eyes. Malachi pointed to a man in the pit.

Yet one day, they would be her subjects. The blacksmith stood dutifully at the anvil, his massive frame silhouetted against fire. His ashen, both by colour and the ashes of the coal, made some sense as to why his hair was tied back. Revealing a face lined with soot and scars. His arms, corded with decades of labour, swung a huge hammer, as though it were weightless, in a rhythm that seemed to shake the very ground. Sparks leapt like dying stars around him, but he didn't once flinch. This forge, like all forges, was run by the Wingless.