Reforged

The hammer’s rhythm reached us long before the heat did. Each strike traveled up through the stone and into our boots, a deep, even pulse that grew louder as the path opened toward the forge proper. Karlach stomped along to the beat with theatrical steps, clearly deep in some private giantess fantasy, while Kagha walked with her hands folded and a smile that betrayed her discomfort at the clamor of industry.

The central platform opened up ahead of us. Lava channels threw a restless orange light across the steel, and the great piston drove down into its mold with a boom that shook dust from the vault, rose, and drove down again. At the edge of it all, Dammon stood at the mold housing with the tongs still in one hand, the last of the steam clearing around him. Shadowheart waited beside him, tapping her foot impatiently. Lae’zel stood nearby with her arms folded, scanning the surroundings for anything the noise might have woken.

“There you are!” Dammon set the tongs down and wiped his hands on an apron that was already past saving. “Perfect timing. It’s finished.”

He lifted the armor from its stand with both hands, the way a man lifts a sleeping child. Adamantine splint, plate over plate, dark and dense as wet slate, with a brilliant turquoise sheen running through it where the lava light caught the edges. I looked for the rivets and couldn’t find a single one.

“Great job,” I said, and stored it before anyone could start measuring themselves against it.

Lae’zel’s eyes followed the armor into the pack. “It is not for you?”

“I have other plans.”

“If those plans involve me,” Shadowheart said, “I’ll save you the trouble. Not really my style. Too much metal, too little... give.”

“A prize of such quality is meant to be earned,” Lae’zel said, and lifted her chin. “I will prove myself worthy of it.”

“We’ll see,” was all I managed before Dammon spoke up.

“And there’s the shield,” he said, already ducking behind the anvil and coming back with something wrapped in cloth. “I took a small liberty with the design. I hope that’s all right.”

Shadowheart’s foot stopped tapping. Behind me, I felt rather than saw a glance pass between her and Kagha.

I pulled the cloth away.

The Shield was adamantine, the rim clean, the edges reinforced. In the center, though, sat something I had never seen. The old Safeguard Shield’s pieces had been cut, mended, and welded into the new plate with the original patina still showing: the same curve of the rim, the same faint etching along the edge, and the deep scratches from every time it had proved indispensable.

My brain began flipping through every loot table I had memorized across a few thousand hours of play. Items couldn’t be remade. A few could be assembled from parts, in rare circumstances, but nothing like this. There was no entry, no tooltip, no line of data in any file I had ever seen. I held an item the game itself had never written, something that should not exist at all.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

“Go on,” Dammon said gently. “Try it.”

I picked it up. The weight sat right. When I slid my arm through the straps, the adamantine was loudest, a dense, steady hum that settled against my forearm. Critical blows would slide off it the way they always did on pure adamantine plate, and anyone who struck it would stagger back reeling. Beneath that hum the familiar buzz of magic was still intact, the same quiet pressure I used to feel when the old shield took a hit meant for me, Survive this fight, then the next.

“Good to see you again,” I said.

It came out thicker than I intended. Something misted at the edge of my vision, and I blamed the forge smoke, because there was a great deal of it. I turned to Dammon.

“How...?”

Shadowheart answered before he could.

“Glad you like it.” Her voice was lighter than usual. “That shield meant a lot to you, and it seemed a shame to leave it in pieces.”

She glanced at Kagha. Kagha’s mouth curved, small and satisfied.

“We came up with the idea last night,” Shadowheart continued. “Over a bottle of wine. This morning I took the pieces from your tent while you were out ogling Karlach.”

Her smile turned sly. She winked at me and drew herself up, shoulders back, until the neckline of her gown shifted forward by a very deliberate inch and a faint glint of silver showed beneath the fabric, silver that had started out as a gift from me.

“I told you I would make it up to you,” she said. “Didn’t I?”

I nodded, which was all I could manage. The nostalgia, the thoughtfulness, and the whole impossible new thing on my arm landed at once. When I finally found my voice, it was a dry croak.

“Thank you.”

There was no joke in it and no deflection, only the words. Shadowheart’s usual edge faltered. She looked at the floor for half a second, then back up, color high on her cheeks.

“You’re welcome.”

[Shadowheart: Approval +1]

“The cleric has gone red,” Lae’zel observed with tilt of her head.

“Yeah? Well, it’s hot in here,” Shadowheart said, mostly to the lava.

Karlach made a soft sound that might have been a laugh and turned it into a cough. Kagha only watched, pleased. Dammon busied himself with the tongs, giving the moment room it did not need.

I settled the shield higher on my arm and flexed under the straps, and the old hum answered.

“We’ll leave you to it,” I told Dammon. “Try not to get yourself wrapped in silk while we’re gone.”

He managed a tired smile. “I’ll do my best.”

We turned toward the tunnel back to the main chamber and the pier. The hammer started up again behind us, steady and patient. Ahead, Eliette was waiting for her proper farewell.