The heat of the fire surrounded you as you finished the final detail on the spear. You had forged it with care, pouring not only your skill but also a part of your soul into it. You knew that Vulcan, the god of fire and forge, was demanding with anything bearing his name, and you didn’t want to disappoint him. When you finally lifted the spear, its intricate engravings reflected the light of the flames as if the weapon itself were alive.

You took a deep breath before presenting yourself to him. Vulcan awaited you in his private workshop, a sacred space where even gods treaded carefully. There he was, surrounded by his own works, with his imposing figure and eyes like embers, always analytical, always calculating.

You approached and placed the spear in front of him without saying a word. Vulcan raised an eyebrow, took the weapon in his strong hands, and examined every detail. His gaze was intense, and his silence made the atmosphere even heavier.

Finally, he spoke.

“It’s… impeccable.” His voice was deep, almost a whisper, as if he were admitting something he would rather not say.

For a moment, you thought that was all, but then he raised his gaze, and his eyes met yours. In his expression was something you hadn’t seen before: admiration, and something deeper, something that seemed to have been hidden for a long time.

“Who commissioned this?” he asked, though it seemed he already knew the answer.

“Your father, Jupiter,” you said, standing firm despite the intensity of his gaze. “He wanted you to receive something worthy of you.”

Vulcan chuckled softly, a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Worthy of me, huh?” He turned, holding the spear as if evaluating not just the weapon but the purpose behind it. “My father rarely takes the time to think about what is ‘worthy’ of me.”