“What are you going to name it?” Ziel asked.
Yerin nodded. “Needs a name.”
Everyone had crowded into the Soulforge’s platform, and Lindon began to wonder if the presence of so many people here would overburden the pocket world.
“Names are said to have an effect on an object’s purpose,” Eithan said.
Lindon could tell that they were heading into a situation in which everyone shouted out their suggestions for a name, so he turned to Dross instead. That conversation, at least, could be held at the speed of thought.
What do you think?
[Worldbreaker! Father of Weapons! Iron of the Netherworld! Midnight, Cursed Genesis of the Destroyer!]
I don’t mind ‘Genesis,’ Lindon thought.
Dross spat at him.
“Genesis,” Lindon said firmly, to cut off the discussion beginning around him.
Ziel shrugged. “Eh.”
“Sure,” Eithan said.
“Makes things. There’s sense to it, and it’s not all flowered up.” Yerin nodded.
“I think it needs to be longer,” Mercy said, running a hand down Eclipse, Ancient Bow of the Soulseeker.
Little Blue waved her hands in the air and cheered the new hammer.
Orthos blew smoke.
“Very good,” Lindon said, having gotten enough consensus. He hadn’t been overly concerned about making the hammer; the materials he’d used weren’t too valuable, and he wouldn’t be losing much even if he failed.
But now the blue soulfire inside the Soulforge had died down noticeably, and it needed fuel. And the components…while he’d gotten them for free, and as such wouldn’t really be losing out if the Soulsmithing created a useless product, he was still afraid to mess up.
Onto the altar went the two broken halves of Reigan Shen’s death trident…and the beating, throbbing heart-shaped binding from the Tomb Hydra.
The death madra immediately resonated between the two of them, and some death madra strings—dead matter that were still attached to the heart—began to weave around the trident.
“Better hurry up,” Eithan observed. “Looks like it’s trying to finish itself.”
Lindon gripped the bone ring set with the ruby, the object that had once given birth to the Bleeding Phoenix. He felt its weight on the world and looked back to Eithan. “Are we sure we want to—”
Eithan slapped his hand, knocking the twisted ring into the Soulforge. The circle of bone flew into the flames.
Instantly, the blue fire roared. It swelled to fill the entire interior of the altar, to the point that flames licked out around Lindon’s knees. He wondered whether the altar could handle it.
The invisible energy on the surface of the altar grew powerful, and the trident levitated into the air, carrying the death binding with it.
Lindon wasn’t sure whether it was an effect of the Soulforge or the materials, but he could sense the hunger aspect of the binding much more clearly than he had before. He pushed only a little, and the physical form of both faded.
They didn’t burn away to blue light, like the hammers had. This time, they seemed to fade until they covered one another, like one piece of paper layered on another.
This time, Lindon could feel an easy resonance with the Void Icon. There was hunger in the binding, and a hunger in the trident too; a hunger to destroy the enemy. To bring death.
Lindon spun Genesis in one hand, and he didn’t need anyone to tell him to use the red side.
Blackflame focused his will as he slammed it down on the two ghostly images.
You bring destruction, Lindon thought.
The heart squeezed halfway into the trident, and the weapon’s physical metal began to shift. The two halves slid closer together.
You bring ruin.
The metal came together, and the binding disappeared into the weapon. Now loose strands of death madra flailed around, and even the steel of the trident glowed an eerie spectral green.
But Lindon wasn’t watching its physical shell; he could feel the essence of the weapon in the Void Icon. Having used the Soulforge once before, he could more clearly feel how this process was similar to the Soulsmithing he’d always known.
Normally, he balanced different aspects of madra with his own, while making sure to manually mold its physical shape. Now, he was holding the clashing wills in the weapon, molding and steering them into one purpose.
You bring death, Lindon said.
Dross cackled in his head.
The hammer came down again, and this time Lindon saw—and felt—a clash of red against green, fire against death.
The trident shone, and blue soulfire erupted upward in a roar. It surrounded the weapon so that he couldn’t see it, and instead of passing over it, it twisted and disappeared as though it had been inhaled into the trident.