The Lost Voices (OLD VERSION - New Version to Come)

CHAPTER 1... NEW WORLD (PART 1)

Recording 1: A Murderer 

8-12-1620 A.R. 

Location: Brickshaw, Terrarin 

Golden sparks burnt the air as Malien's hammer came down and straightened the iron blade. The heavy clang vibrated through his body with a satisfying, but hollow rhythm. It was the only sound in his empty workshop as the sun poured in from the dusty back window. The light was blotchy, but enough to distract him momentarily. It flowed into the room, as if a silhouette was gazing in and obstructing it. Malien squinted against the dawn and quietly brushed off the feeling as he continued his craft. With each motion, the slowly suffocating calm tightened around him, like a man hoping for something that was long past.

Following several consecutive strikes, he laid down his obsidian hammer, donned his thick mitts and tinted goggles, and prepared to escort the still rough blade into the cauldron-shaped furnace behind him. After fiddling with a couple switches on the soot-covered console beside it, the scorching heat within stirred to life as boiling steam puffed out from behind the machine. Then Malien opened the metal hatch and plunged the weapon deep into the roiling, molten liquid. 

The waves cascaded over the blade like a fiery waterfall and the heat radiated into the workshop as Malien's torso was immersed in the spiking temperature. He scanned the weapon, measured the fire, and waited for the exact moment when he would extract the blade and drown it in the shining pool on his right. Every detail was crucial, each hollow point carefully placed, and the seconds were minutely calculated in his bated breaths.

Suddenly, his bare forearm brushed the edge of the furnace and the searing touch nearly made him drop the weapon. He cursed at his rookie mistake and immediately knew he was now off course in the forging process. Rushing now, he lifted the blade out of the glowing furnace and submerged the red hot iron into the glistening pool, forcing the water to scream as a small geyser of steam plumed toward the stony ceiling. 

With a moment of reprieve, Malien checked his arm to see the ugly burn mark and wondered how many years it had been since he'd made such a thoughtless mistake. After waiting a moment, he extracted the weapon from the pool and laid it over a worn, but still straight, metal platform. However, before he could reach for his hammer again, he heard a ding from the front of the shop.

Malien absentmindedly hollered to the customers he saw through the darkened glass on his left. "I'll be right there."

His canine companion, Zoey, perked up from the warm corner she had been resting in and followed after Malien as he passed through the metal door that led to the gallery of finished armaments. The dog's coat of intensely black fur made her seem like Malien's shadow as he weaved around the tables and up to the front window where most irregular customers gathered. This was opposed to the regulars who would waltz right in, knowing they were welcome at good old Kinray Kogs. The name never failed to make his eyes roll ever so slightly.

A few ceiling bulbs lit the polished display cases and this outer room was leagues different due to the autumn chill rolling in. An older woman and her daughter, probably in her mid-twenties like Malien, were at the front. They both wore quaint stares as he approached. If he had to guess, the women probably had no idea how alike they were when they made that face.

"Mornin' ladies, what can I do for ya?" He rolled up his sleeves and propped his elbows on the wide, window counter as he forced a stellar fake smile. Then Zoey almost propped her front legs on the counter, but Malien caught her before she could and smirked. "No, down girl."

"Mr. Kinray?" He nodded. "We're here for an order we placed last week, for my brother. It's a..." The younger woman trailed off as she squinted at a small typewritten note. "Machine-Spear? Model 3-C?" The various weapon types spun through Malien's head.