Capítulo 31: A tale of the World.
<Tales and Stories of the Heroic Era.>
Page 294
A Smith's Purpose
In a land far east.
In a village forgotten by time, a smith laboured and laboured.
Under blazing sun, under warm moonlight, under rain and storm and even icy hail.
Oh lord.
Every morn he produced, arms and tools, with rigorous moves.
But with every set. his arms grew meaker, his steps duller, his movements lesser.
A small bit mind you, after all time was abound.
Thank the gods, that every dawn, the craft was honed.
Many winters he toiled, feeling glee and joy, but one cursed morning, he felt swimming in void.
Perhaps time will cure, he concurred and started to experiment with every metal he could.
Costs grew and grew, with his every move, but he managed to hold his craft true.
Every metal he mastered and studied it is being, from the humble bronze to the hardest steel.
But soon enough, it was not enough, nothing could fulfill his need.
He tried to find, his lost love, but simply nothing worked.
Perhaps a legacy to behold?
He needed some grand, substance to mold, something to pour his very soul, so he called to the gods and screamed let me smith, something to live.
He screamed and screamed his voice horse, but no God listened to his pleas.
A figure tall, barely with skin, and a voice full of cunning and deceit.
It spoke with glee, his eyes shining with greed.
A deal I will make to you, the souls of five hundred I require and you may have back your fire.
And so the smith did, acting with deceit to satisfy his lust, for something more to be.
Many rituals he commited, first with men far abound, soon his townsmen after all they were abound, his neighbours betrayed as time run out, and soon even friends and family, where moribund.
The town became a husk and thus the trust, returned with a smile, a word, and a gift of ash.
He then spoke with glee, let the emotions you hid, strike the ash to the thing to be.
With anger about his acts and feeling rather crass, he threw the ash in the blaze and thus a crimson lotus, grew in the fiery hearth.
He grabbed it without a glove and he rushed to smith the thing into a sword.
No love was felt, no intricate craft, just instinctual act.
And soon before him, after thirty days, a sword rested upon his resting place.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
VlassisBehrakis
VlassisBehrakis This is an in World snippet.
The word set has double meaning aka sunset and set of tools.
Also happy book anniversary. Are you guys intrested in taking a look to the edited chap1 ?
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