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Within the dim confines of Eirik Lunde’s forge, the hammer’s rhythm echoed, its deep clangs reverberating off the stone walls. As he wiped his brow, sweat mingled with the rosy flush on his fair skin. With each strike, his long beard swayed, golden-brown strands catching the low glow of the forge’s embers. Narrowing his dark blue eyes, he studied the jagged shard of unfamiliar metal before him—a heavy, blackened piece unlike anything he had ever worked. In his hands, the tools felt strange—too heavy, too eager—as though they moved of their own accord.
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, his muffled voice barely audible over the ringing noise. His fingers stiffened, clenching tighter around the handle of the hammer. The ore—a strange, ominous metal—held something he could not grasp, a creeping sense of wrongness settling deep in his chest.
The door creaked open, cutting through the tension in the room, and Áhka Ravdna, a weathered Sámi woman, stepped inside. Silver strands of hair framed her face, her piercing eyes locking on Eirik’s work.
“You’ve started,” she said softly, the weight of her words pressing on him.
His hammer paused mid-swing. The forge seemed to quiet, and a shiver ran through him.
“What do you mean?” he rasped, throat dry, eyes drifting toward the door.
Áhka’s gaze never wavered. “The Stállu. You’ve awakened it.”
A tremor rippled through Eirik as the metal pulsed in the heat. The air around him thickened, suffocating.
“You’re telling me this damn metal... is alive?” His voice caught, filled with disbelief.
“No,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “It is no mere metal. It is part of the Stállu's armor—cursed, ancient, from the body of the beast itself. The earth held it for centuries, but now…” She took a step closer, her hand resting on the edge of the forge, fingers brushing the soot-covered wood. “Now, it is free.”
His jaw clenched. “No. I didn’t—”
“You *have*,” Áhka interrupted, her eyes filled with sorrow. “And now it hunts.”
The words hit Eirik like a blow, but before he could speak again, a distant scream sliced through the night. It was sharp, filled with raw terror.
Áhka’s face tightened. “It’s started.”
Eirik swallowed hard. His hands shook. “Then I’ll end it.”
The forge's fire burned hotter as he began to shape the spear, working the cursed metal with careful precision. His movements became frenzied, feverish. The heat of the forge pressed in, relentless. His golden-brown hair fell loose from his braid, hanging in strands as his muscles screamed from the strain.
Outside, the wind howled. Snow whipped against the windows, the storm howling in time with the pounding of his heart. His mind raced. He’d awakened the creature, but now he had to stop it.
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Slowly, the spear took form—its presence shaping the very air around him, energy shifting with restless power as he worked. At its tip, a deadly gleam flashed, the sharpened edge catching the light. With each strike of his hammer, a sense of finality pulsed, reverberating through the forge.
The ground trembled.
Eirik froze. The beast was close.
The door slammed open with a deafening crash, and there it stood—massive, hulking, a twisted combination of man and troll, its armor gleaming in the forge’s firelight. Its eyes were like burning coals, filled with a hunger Eirik could feel in his gut. The Stállu’s presence was suffocating. It filled the room, dark and oppressive, and in its shadow, the walls seemed to collapse.
Eirik’s grip tightened on the spear. “Come on, then,” he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing.
Áhka stepped back, fear flickering across her features. "You cannot kill it with steel alone."
The Stállu’s roar shook the air, a guttural growl that rattled the bones. Its enormous hand reached out, grasping the room with a terrifying ease.
“*Blood,*” it snarled, its voice rumbling like thunder.
Eirik’s hand shot forward, the spear raised. The world slowed, every muscle in his body straining to follow through. The creature’s eyes locked onto his, its hunger filling the space between them.
Without hesitation, he thrust the spear forward.
The metal struck, sinking into the beast’s chest, and the Stállu’s roar turned into a sound that might have been laughter—guttural, harsh. The blackened armor of its body melted, and the creature’s immense form crumpled to the ground with a final shudder.
For a long moment, the only sound was the crackling of the forge fire.
Eirik stood over the beast, his chest heaving with exhaustion. His mind swam, confused, as he looked down at the twisted form before him. It was over, but a strange emptiness lingered in the air.
Áhka’s voice cut through the silence, heavy with a grim weight. “The price.”
Eirik’s eyes darted to her, his breath shallow. He looked down at the shattered creature, the spear still lodged deep in its chest.
“The price,” she repeated, stepping closer. “You have sealed its fate. But now, you must choose.”
He glanced from the beast to the spear, feeling the pull of the cursed metal in his hands.
The room felt colder.
With one final, hesitant step, he knelt. The forge crackled, as if acknowledging the decision.
Áhka was silent, watching as Eirik’s fate was sealed.
And in the stillness, Eirik made his choice.
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Exciting news! My book, Cumberland Chronicles at Books2Read, is now available! If you enjoy the supernatural, horror, and the weird, I’d love for you to check it out. Even if it’s not your thing, a quick share would help me reach the right readers. Thank you for the support!
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