Cling.The hammer struck true, sending a musical note ringing through the forge. Fili wiped sweat from his brow and admired the curve of metal taking shape beneath his tools. Not bad for a morning's work.Cling.Another strike, another note. The rhythm of the forge was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat after four years as an apprentice.The wind picked up outside, rattling the shutters with sudden force. Fili paused, hammer raised mid-strike. That was odd. The morning had been still and sunny when he'd opened the forge at dawn.He glanced toward Master Kern, who sat hunched over her workbench, quill scratching across parchment as she refined a design for a new set of gauntlets. Her gray hair was pulled back in a severe bun, her scarred hands moving with precision despite their gnarled appearance."Master," Fili said, setting down his hammer. "I think it's started."Kern didn't look up from her drawing. "Hmm."Fili moved to the window, wiping ash from his hands onto his apron. Outside, people hurried through the street, their faces tight with worry. A group of children ran past, shouting something about a storm."There's folks saying something happened at the trial," Fili reported, straining to catch snippets of conversation. "And look at the sky."The clear blue of just minutes ago had vanished, replaced by rolling gray clouds. Wind whipped through the street, sending loose papers tumbling across cobblestones.Fili chewed his lower lip. "I wonder if Adom's alright."Kern set down her quill with deliberate slowness. "Back to work, Fili.""But Master—""Focus on what you can control," she said, finally looking up. Her eyes were sharp as flint despite her sixty-some years. "That pauldron won't forge itself."Fili reluctantly returned to his anvil, but his mind remained on the strange weather and the rising tension in the street. "But what if—" (...)