Third person POV
Elara resumed walking, but the heavy atmosphere of the hallway was beginning to feel like a physical weight on her shoulders. She changed her direction to the cafeteria, her mind spinning with a hundred unanswered questions. Back then, she didn't know the address to the so-called Blacksmith, so how could she possibly know where to forge the coin? The mystery felt like a labyrinth with no exit. Elara sighed, the sound lost in the hum of the school's ventilation, and retired to her dorm after grabbing some snacks. She dropped on the bed, the springs creaking under her weight, deciding to take a quick nap to drown out the noise in her head.
After three hours of peaceful sleep, the kind of deep, dreamless rest that only comes from total exhaustion, Elara woke up to the chiming of her phone. She robbed her eyes sleepily, the blue light of the screen stinging her vision as she picked up the device.
Elara POV
I checked the time with a squint. I've slept for three hours straight—the longest sleep I've ever had since I arrived at the suffocating gates of Blackwood. My eyes dropped to the text notification, and my heart skipped a beat. It was an address, sent from the Blacksmith himself. I sat up from the bed instantly, the last lingering threads of sleep flying out of my eyes.
"Hell no," I whispered into the quiet room. Just how far is this so-called unknown willing to help me? Just who is the "Unknown"? I hastily put on some clothes, my hands trembling slightly as I zipped up my dark jacket. I needed the coin today. I needed it so that I could enter into Floor 13 this night and finally face whatever Julian was hiding.
Third person POV
It was dark as a figure sneked through the iron gate of Blackwood, moving like a ghost through the moonlight. The figure was Elara Vance. She ran freely, her breath hitching in her chest, her hair flowing through the wind as she left the campus boundaries behind. After what it felt like eternity, she stopped at a secluded part of the woods, walking pass tall trees that seemed to reach out like skeletal fingers.
She kept walking, looking around nervously, her face holding nothing but worry until she arrived at a big black gate. It looked ancient, rusted by time and neglect. She pushed the door open effortlessly, the hinges silent, as she stepped inside. Her eyes widen at what she saw. Dominating the clearing was a big white building which seems it will fall apart any moment from now. Overgrown trees surrounded the house, their roots cracking the foundation. There were a few checks on the walls of the building and deep cracks on the floor; it was giving a truly eerie vibe. Elara sweated a bucket instantly, the silence of the woods pressing in on her.
Elara POV
I expected to see a big, industrial workshop with the smell of coal and burning metal, not a building that looks like it comes from a low-budget horror movie. This is fucking scary. I felt my palm gummy as sweats pooled under my armpits, the humidity of the night making my clothes stick to my skin. Just then, logs came on lumering the place, casting a flickering, orange glow over the porch.
A man came out with a walking stick, tapping it rhythmically against the rotted wood. He's putting on eyeglasses—strange, I muttered to myself. Who the heck wears sunglasses at midnight? Is he blind? I thought, my suspicion rising. Just then, the man laughed, a dry, rasping sound.
"Come inside to my warm abode," he backoned, his voice surprisingly gentle. I mustured all my courage, despite my instinct screaming at me to run back to the safety of my dorm. I approached the man, my footsteps heavy on the gravel.
"Are you the Blacksmith?" I asked straight forward. I wanted to leave this place as soon as I can.
"Of course, youngling, but don't you think you are too foward? Come inside, I shall serve you tea," he smiled, revealing teeth that were surprisingly white against his weathered face.
I reluctantly agreed, walking behind him into the looming structure. But immediately I entered, I was short of words. All my worries melted instantly. The inside of the house was nothing like the outside; it was the complete opposite. Inside was a bunch of children, playing and laughing, the rooms filled with the scent of vanilla and old books.
"Are these your kids? I couldn't help asking." Immediately we settled down on the worn but comfortable furniture.
"Of course not. They were abandoned by their parents... I took them in," he smiled, offering me a steaming cup of tea. "Drink up. It isn't posined," he said after seeing my hesitation in drinking.
I took a cautious sip. It tasted well—sweet and earthy. Just then, a little kid came to me, her eyes wide with wonder.
"Auntie, you are beautiful," she smiled, her small hand reaching out to touch my sleeve.
"You too, little one," I smiled at her warmly. The remaining kids came running to me as they kept complimenting me. I cracked silly jokes as we laughed, and for once, I forgot about my worries. I forgot about Blackwood. I forgot about the Archive. I forgot about the missing coin. I felt at peace, wrapped in a bubble of innocence that the Circle hadn't managed to touch.
After telling them a story, they all fell asleep peacefully on the floor and the couches. Of course, it's not like I originally wanted to tell them a story; they were just too cute to ignore.
The Blacksmith sat opposite me on the couch after we had carried the children to their respective rooms. I cleared my throat, the silence of the house bringing back the reality of why I came. I reminded him of the mission.
He smiled sadly and dropped two Blackened Coins on the wooden table.
"These are my late wife's coins, and I'm passing them on to you," he smiled, though the expression didn't reach his covered eyes.
"Why?" My voice came out more like a whisper. "Shouldn't you forge a coin or something? Aren't you the Blacksmith?" I asked, looking at the dark metal that had caused so much trouble.
"I was the Blacksmith," he replied. He slowly pulled off his eye glasses, and my eyes went wild. My breath hitched in my throat. His eyes were gouged out—hollow, scarred pits where his vision used to be. He doesn't have eyes. At that instant, I felt nothing but raw fear.
"Wh... what happened?" I asked, my voice Shakey.
"They did this, Elara. The Circle did this. I barely escaped with my life," he replied, his voice devoid of bitterness, replaced only by a cold, hard truth.
"Why... why did they do this?"
He smiled a haunting, toothy grin. "Because they believed a dead man tell no tales... and I learnt the hard way ."