Eternal Ember: The Rise of Ashen Sky

The air in Ember Village was thick with the acrid scent of molten iron and charred wood. Smoke spiraled lazily from the chimneys of the blacksmith's workshop, mingling with the golden hues of the setting sun. For Ashen Sky, the world had always been defined by the ring of hammers against anvils and the dull glow of dying embers. But even within this predictable rhythm, today felt different.

The Weight of Ordinary

Ashen wiped sweat from his brow and leaned back from the forge, his muscles aching from the long hours. At sixteen, he had spent most of his life as a blacksmith's apprentice under his father, Gideon Sky, a grizzled man whose fiery temper was matched only by the intensity of his craft.

"Focus, boy!" Gideon's bark echoed in the small workshop, startling Ashen from his thoughts. "That blade won't shape itself."

Ashen turned back to the glowing strip of metal on the anvil. The dagger he was crafting was uneven, its edges rough and jagged. He sighed, gripping the hammer tightly. No matter how much effort he poured into his work, it never seemed to measure up to his father's standards.

"Sorry, Father," Ashen muttered, lifting the hammer once more. Sparks flew as steel met steel, and the rhythmic clang reverberated through the workshop.

"You don't get to be sorry," Gideon snapped. "You get to fix it."

Ashen clenched his jaw but said nothing. Years of apprenticeship had taught him that arguing with his father was a waste of time. Gideon was a man who believed in results, not excuses.

The villagers often said that Ashen had inherited his father's stubbornness, but if that were true, it was buried beneath layers of insecurity. While other boys his age dreamed of becoming cultivators and ascending to greatness, Ashen had resigned himself to the mundane life of a blacksmith. After all, he lacked the spiritual roots necessary to channel qi, the lifeblood of all cultivation.

A World Divided by Strength

In the realm of Zephyros, power was everything. From the towering cities of the Celestial Sects to the smallest hamlets like Ember Village, the strong ruled while the weak endured. Cultivators wielded unimaginable power, their mastery of qi allowing them to shatter mountains and summon storms. They were revered as gods among men, their deeds etched into history.

Ashen had grown up listening to tales of cultivators battling divine beasts and forging legendary artifacts. As a child, he had dreamed of joining their ranks, his heart alight with ambition. But when his spiritual roots were tested at the age of ten, the verdict had been final: he was "qi-deficient," a label that condemned him to a life of mediocrity.

For years, Ashen had tried to accept his fate. Yet, as he watched the sun dip below the horizon, casting the world in shades of gold and crimson, a spark of defiance flickered within him.

"Why can't I have more?" he whispered under his breath.

The Crimson Blades Descend

The answer to his question came sooner than he expected.

A sudden commotion erupted outside, shattering the stillness of the evening. Shouts and screams filled the air, followed by the unmistakable clash of steel. Ashen's heart raced as he turned to his father, who had already grabbed a hammer from the workbench.

"Stay here," Gideon ordered, his voice grim.

"But—"

"No arguments, Ashen!" Gideon snapped. "Barricade the door and don't come out until I say so."

Before Ashen could protest further, Gideon stormed out, leaving the door ajar. Through the gap, Ashen glimpsed chaos: men in blood-red robes rampaging through the village, their weapons gleaming with malice. The Crimson Blades Sect, a notorious group of rogue cultivators, had come to Ember Village.

Ashen's breath caught in his throat. The Crimson Blades were infamous for pillaging small settlements, leaving nothing but ash in their wake. He knew that Ember Village, with its lack of defenses, was no match for them.

Ignoring his father's command, Ashen grabbed a crude dagger from the workbench and stepped outside.

The Forge Awakens

The village square was a scene of carnage. Houses burned, their flames illuminating the terrified faces of villagers as they fled. Gideon stood in the center, his hammer raised defiantly as he faced a trio of Crimson Blade cultivators.

"Leave this place!" Gideon roared, his voice carrying above the din.

The cultivators laughed, their leader—a tall man with a scar running down his face—stepping forward. "A blacksmith dares to challenge us? How quaint."

Gideon lunged, his hammer swinging in a powerful arc. For a moment, it seemed as though he might land a blow. But the cultivator sidestepped with ease, his hand glowing with qi as he struck Gideon in the chest. The older man crumpled to the ground, blood spilling from his lips.

"No!" Ashen cried, rushing forward without thinking.

The leader turned to him, smirking. "Another fool."

As the cultivator raised his blade, Ashen felt a surge of heat emanate from his chest. Time seemed to slow as a voice echoed in his mind, ancient and commanding:

"Forge your destiny, or be consumed by the flames."

Suddenly, the world erupted in light. The dagger in Ashen's hand glowed with an intense heat, transforming before his eyes. Its blade elongated, its edges sharpening as fiery patterns etched themselves into the metal.

The cultivator hesitated, his smirk faltering. "What—"

Ashen moved instinctively, the transformed weapon guiding his hand. He slashed at the cultivator, a burst of flames erupting from the blade and engulfing the man in a fiery inferno. The other Crimson Blades froze, their confidence shaken.

"Impossible," one of them whispered. "He's just a blacksmith."

Aftermath and Revelation

The battle ended as quickly as it had begun. The remaining cultivators fled, their arrogance replaced by fear. Ashen stood amidst the wreckage, his heart pounding. The glowing weapon in his hand slowly dimmed, reverting to its original form.

Gideon groaned, drawing Ashen's attention. He rushed to his father's side, helping him sit up. "Father, are you—"

"I'm fine," Gideon said, though his voice was weak. He stared at Ashen, his expression a mix of awe and confusion. "What... what happened?"

Ashen hesitated, glancing at the dagger. "I don't know."

Before Gideon could respond, a faint glow caught Ashen's eye. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the fragment his father had given him earlier. It pulsed with a warm light, as if alive.

"What is this?" Ashen asked.

Gideon's face darkened. "It's something I hoped you'd never need. But it seems fate has other plans." He gripped Ashen's shoulder, his gaze intense. "Listen to me, son. You must leave Ember Village."

"What? Why?"

"The Crimson Blades will return, and they won't stop until they've claimed that artifact. You're not safe here."

Ashen's mind raced. He wanted to argue, to refuse. But deep down, he knew his father was right. The power he had just wielded was both a gift and a curse. If he stayed, it would bring only more destruction.

"Where should I go?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"Seek the Iron Sky Sect," Gideon said. "They'll protect you—and teach you to harness your power."

Ashen nodded, his resolve hardening. He would leave behind the only life he had ever known, stepping into a world of uncertainty. But as he gazed at the smoldering ruins of Ember Village, one thing was clear: he would not let this power go to waste.

He would forge his own destiny.