Jan 3 • Main Story
A Forge is Reborn
We remain hidden amongst the green things.
We must be professional.
Focused!
Mother would expect no less of her child.
We listen.
We observe.
We build the strange, sharp-edged language of the large beings.
The dead things…
We watch them closely.
Beings go in and out of them.
They trade dead things for other shiny dead things.
We do not yet understand why dead things hold value.
But we will learn.
A breeze shifts.
The smell reaches us again.
Warm.
Rich.
Glorious!
*A blob of molten drool burns into the ground.*
We shiver.
We want.
No!!
Observe first!
We are on duty!
We are Stormfire!
We are professional!
We continue watching the small beings chase each other,
the large beings speak in patterns we slowly unravel,
the dead things creak and groan as though remembering life.
But the smell…
It curls around us like Mother’s embrace.
We force ourselves still.
We must wait.
We must learn.
The light fades.
We feel warmth dim, and our own pulse steadies.
Darkness settles.
The beings retreat into their dead things.
The noises quiet.
The world softens.
Now.
Now we may move.
We slip between the tall green things,
bending light around us without thought.
We do not wish them to see us while we investigate.
They will not, of this we are certain.
*Light bends around her, shimmering like heat haze, hiding her even from curious eyes.*
We approach the dead things.
We study them.
Large ones with melted sand openings.
Smaller ones ... that smell most foul.
Others appear mobile with large teethless gears holding them up.
Very small ones that are barely held together.
All made of once‑living green things,
now hollowed and reshaped.
Curious.
Very curious.
We move deeper into the place of dead things.
We see no one.
The smell grows stronger.
Stronger.
Stronger still.
*Her pulse quickens.*
*Her flames flicker.*
*The ground beneath her blackens.*
*Stones begin glowing and melt where she steps.*
*She does not notice the trail of blackened earth behind her.*
We try to calm.
We try to remember professionalism.
But the smell…
It is too much!
We find it.
The source.
A dead thing larger than most of the others,
its belly still warm from the day.
We slip inside.
The candy glows faintly,
like tiny fragments of Mother’s heart.
We cannot resist.
We take a small piece.
A treat.
It crackles delightfully in our jaws.
We feel the warmth grow as it melts and slides down our throat.
*A shiver runs thru her body.*
*Small fragments of fire are tossed about her.*
*She begins humming, quietly at first.*
*The air around her ripples.*
*The sound builds as another candy meets its end.*
*She begins swaying side to side delighting in the taste and smell.*
*A haunting melody rolls gently over the town and into the forest beyond.*
*A melody that wakes no one.*
*A melody that banishes nightmares and brings peace to all.*
*A melody of warmth, of love beyond question.*
#Uh hum.
#Darling.....
MOTHER!!
We snap back to awareness...
We apologize Mother.
It is then we notice the metal.
Bad metal.
Sick metal.
Impure.
We do not like it.
*The metal hums faintly in her presence.*
We touch it gently.
Our warmth flows through it.
The impurities flee.
The metal brightens.
Strengthens.
Becomes what it should have been.
Better.
Much better.
Satisfied, we think we can observe better from within.
Yes.
We curl into the embrace of the dead thing.
Warm.
Safe.
Comforting.
Like Mother,
but smaller.
Quieter.
A nest of heat.
We settle.
We dim ourselves to a soft glow.
We rest.
*The coals brighten as though recognizing kin.*
We are Stormfire.
We have done well.
We hope.......
#Rest, little one.
#Tomorrow, you learn.
*A toothy smile crosses her face as she drifts off to sleep.*
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A Forge is Reborn
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