The Forge
The rhythmic clang of hammer against metal echoed through the small forge, its glow casting flickering shadows across Garrick Flint’s rugged face. The blacksmith worked tirelessly, his muscles straining as he shaped a blade for a local farmer. His hands bore the scars of a life spent in the heat of the forge, but his heart remained steadfast. Garrick was a man of his craft, and the watch tucked in his pocket—a family heirloom—was a constant reminder of the generations that had come before him.
The watch was nothing extraordinary to the untrained eye, its brass casing worn and scratched from years of use. Yet, Garrick felt a strange connection to it, as if it pulsed faintly whenever he held it. He had never questioned its origins until the day of the accident.
It was a day like any other, the forge alive with heat and the smell of molten iron. Garrick was hammering away at a horseshoe when a deafening crack split the air. The pulley system supporting a massive load of iron beams snapped, sending the heavy metal cascading toward the apprentices working nearby. Without thinking, Garrick lunged forward, pulling the boys out of harm’s way—but the beams were falling too fast. In a moment of sheer desperation, his hand brushed the watch in his pocket.
Time seemed to slow, the world around him freezing in place. The iron beams hung suspended in midair, and the frantic cries of his apprentices turned into ghostly echoes. Garrick stood in stunned silence, the watch in his hand glowing faintly, its once-dull face now alive with intricate gears turning beneath the glass. He didn’t understand how, but he knew what to do.
He pulled the apprentices to safety, their frozen forms light as feathers. As soon as they were clear, the watch clicked, and time roared back to life. The iron beams crashed to the ground, shaking the forge but harming no one.
Garrick stared at the watch, his chest heaving. What had just happened? He barely had time to process before a stranger stepped into the forge, the soot and chaos of the accident seemingly unnoticed. The man wore a long coat and carried an air of authority. His sharp eyes locked onto Garrick.
"Quite the save," the stranger said, his voice steady. His eyes wandered to the watch, knowing. "I imagine you have questions."
Garrick nodded slowly, his grip tightening on the watch. "Aye. You know about this, don’t you?"
The man smiled faintly. "More than you could imagine. Garrick Flint, you’ve just taken your first step into a much larger world."
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