Days blended together. Sweat. Blisters. Metal clanging. The forge had gone from a sad little campfire to a fire-breathing monster. Bronze glowed everywhere.

And right in the middle of it all? Finn. Pumping bellows. Hammering metal. Carrying stuff. Laughing the whole time, like it was all just a big game.

At night, Finn would fall into bed, exhausted but smiling. He dreamed all kinds of crazy inventions.

One day, Zane leaned back, watching Finn oil a pair of tongs. Was he actually feeling proud of the kid?

Zane elbowed Garrick, who was busy with a shiny new hinge. “Hey, your kid’s alright. Kind of like a younger, less whiny version of me.”

Garrick chuckled. “High praise from you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all mushy. He’s got a lot to learn. Especially about complaining.”

Garrick shook his head, smiling. “Complaining doesn’t build a forge. Hard work, patience, and a bit of fire. That’s what makes a blacksmith.”

Zane rolled his eyes. “Kid’s got enough fire to burn down the whole village. Gotta give him that.”

After what felt like forever, they finally set the last stone. Zane was pretty sure his soul had left his body a few times by then.

“It’s done.” Garrick wiped his forehead, looking at the forge like it was a miracle. “This forge… it’s ready for anything.”

Finn bounced with excitement. “Does this mean I’m a real blacksmith now?!”

Garrick knelt down, going into wise dad mode. “Not yet, son. But you’re getting there. A blacksmith never stops learning. There’s always more to shape and know.”

Zane squinted at the new forge. Yeah, it looked good. Really good. Like they had built it out of pure determination. “Not bad, Garrick. Not bad at all. Maybe I’ll stick around. Make myself a paperweight or something.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Garrick said, eyes narrowing like he had something big planned. “But don’t get too comfortable. There’s more work to do.”

And right on cue, Darius showed up. “Lyra and Mira need the new farming tools.”

Zane groaned like he had been sentenced to hard labor. “Of course. When Lyra asks, we jump.”

No rest for the tired. The new forge roared, and they worked like they were preparing for a battle.

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Garrick moved like he could talk to the metal, bending the bronze just right. Darius had sharp eyes, catching every little flaw. Finn ran around, grabbing tools before anyone even asked. And Zane? Well, he wouldn’t admit it, but working like this felt kind of… good?

By evening, they had a bunch of farming tools. Hoes. Shovels. Plows. All shiny bronze.

Garrick wiped his hands, looking proud. “With these, Mira might finally get those fields under control.”

“And maybe Lyra will stop breathing down my neck,” Zane added, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Darius ran his fingers over the tools like he was checking out fine art. “These tools will shape the future of the village.”

Finn, covered in soot, bounced on his feet. “Can we show them now? Pleeease?”

Zane rolled his eyes. “Can’t we have five minutes without drama?”

Darius, shockingly, gave a small smile. “Maybe. For now.”

They headed to the farm, where Lyra was working. “Finally!” She looked over the tools like a queen checking her new army. “These are even better than I imagined! You guys really outdid yourselves.”

Mira, usually the calm one, beamed at the new plow. “With these, we can make this the best farm the village has ever seen. Enough food for everyone, even in winter.” She ruffled Finn’s hair and smiled. “And you, young man, are a big part of this.”

Finn puffed up with pride, like he might just float away.

Zane shrugged, soaking in the praise. “All in a day’s work. Saving villages is kind of our thing now.”

Darius stared off into the distance like it owed him something. “This is just the beginning. There are more challenges ahead. But with our strength, we will overcome.”

Zane squinted at the sunset. Was this village-saving stuff actually growing on him? Ugh. “So, what’s next?” He turned to Garrick. “Any chance we can invent something that makes me breakfast in bed?”

Garrick laughed. “A blacksmith can dream, Zane. But first, how about a new pickaxe for you and a woodcutting axe for Darius?”

Zane’s eyes lit up. “Now you’re talking! My pickaxe is basically held together with string at this point.”

Darius nodded. “A stronger axe would be a good idea.”

And so, back to the forge they went. Fire roared. They were tired but excited. Making something important. Tools that mattered. Tools that could change things.

Zane hammered away, finding an unexpected calm in the rhythm. Who knew hitting metal could be so relaxing?

Darius worked with precision, every swing counting.

Finn watched them both, learning everything Garrick showed him. The kid was a natural, like he was meant for this. He was starting to understand how the forge worked and how the metal seemed to talk to them.

Later that night, they stood before the freshly made tools. Garrick handed Zane the new bronze pickaxe. It shone in the forge light, almost too fancy for the rough work ahead.

“This should make things a bit easier,” Garrick said.

Zane lifted the pickaxe like it was a legendary weapon. “I might actually start enjoying mining with this thing.”

Garrick handed Darius the bronze axe.

Darius held it like it was a sacred relic, inspecting the edge. “This will serve me well. Thank you, Garrick.”

Finn tugged on Garrick’s sleeve, eyes wide with hope. “Think I’ll be able to make stuff like this one day?”

Garrick smiled, ruffling his son’s hair. “One day, you’ll be even better. It takes time, patience, and a lot of hard work. But I know you can do it.”

Even Zane, in a rare moment of sincerity, nodded. “Yeah, kid. Just keep at it. You’ve got the spark.”

The forge, which used to be cold and empty, was now full of life and heat.

Garrick held up one of the new bronze tools, watching the light shine off its edge. “This will change everything.”