432 Firing up the Forge

Anchored within the sea of people was an old, empty shell of a house, just as Kilot had left it. He was surprised the key could still fit into the lock, and that the door hadn't rusted shut. Slowly stepping inside the once-familiar place, he realized how faded his memory really was. 'Is this the right place?' he wondered.

He instinctively gravitated towards the forge and he knew he was in the right place, even though he didn't wish to acknowledge it. He thought he had left his shame behind, yet it remained; It had only festered in his absence. The hearth was cold and coal-less. Dust plagued every plank of wood, every wall-mounted weapon, and every inch of countertop - even the anvil. 'Looks like I got my work cut out for me,' he thought, scanning the rest of the workshop.