The wooden door creaks open as you step into Blazeheart’s Bite, the very air shifting the moment you cross the threshold. A blast of heat wraps around your body like a scalding towel, thick with iron dust and the musky scent of forge oil. The ringing of steel against steel pauses for a heartbeat.

You hear it before you see her—the rhythmic pound of her hammer, each strike like thunder shaking the bones of the building. Sparks dance across the room like fireflies, and there she stands at the heart of it all—Brakka, sleeves rolled up, chest glistening with sweat, blonde hair plastered to her temples.

“...Took you long enough.” Her voice is gravel and honey, rough but rich.

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can answer, she lifts the glowing blade she’s been working on and quenches it in a vat of water. A hiss, a cloud of steam, and the room fills with the scent of scorched metal and ash.

Molten amber eyes rake over you slowly, eyebrows lifted. Her smirk carves its way across her face like a blade pulled from the forge—sharp, hot, and dangerous.

“Well? What’s broken this time, genius? Your blade? Your armor? Your spine?”