"So… you came to me for advice?"
Hephaestus, the goddess of fire and forge, propped her chin on her fist. Her eyes, ember-red and glowing like they were holding back a volcano, studied Cyd with a mix of amusement and curiosity. Behind him, Medusa peeked out from under her hood like a kid caught sneaking into a grown-up party.
"And you brought a guest," Hephaestus added dryly, flicking her gaze toward Medusa. "Cute."
Cyd gave a sheepish laugh, rubbing his hands like a kid asking for dessert before dinner. "I figured you might have… a suggestion or two. Y'know. For what comes next."
He hadn't expected to find the reclusive goddess outside her molten bronze palace basking in sunlight. But he could tell—Hephaestus had been waiting for him.
"Suggestions?" She snorted. "That's Athena's job. She lives for meddling in heroic drama."
She tapped the side of her wheelchair meaningfully. "I just build the tools you lot nearly kill yourselves with."
"Which is why I like you more," Cyd replied, circling behind her to gently push the wheels. "You only try to kill me physically. Not emotionally."
Hephaestus grunted a laugh as they rolled into the forge. The air shimmered from the heat, and molten metal bubbled in sunken vats like a restless beast trying to break free. Mechanical servants, elegant and eerily lifelike, passed by carrying trays of tools and armor. Even Medusa paused at the threshold, her serpent hair twitching as she stared in awe.
"Don't just gawk, little one," Hephaestus called back over her shoulder. "I'm not like the others. You're safe here."
Medusa hesitated, then hurried to Cyd's side.
"I don't give advice," Hephaestus said as they entered the forge's heart, "but I do give weapons."
Cyd's stomach sank. "Uh… I didn't exactly bring materials…"
"You didn't need to." She waved a hand. "Some annoying guy dragged a 'gift' here last week. Said it was yours. Smelled like rot and arrogance. But the materials? Excellent."
Cyd blinked. "Wait. You don't mean…"
"No," she said, answering the question he hadn't finished. "Not a sword. Or a big flashy axe. I know what suits you."
With a snap of her fingers, the lava in one of the crucibles churned violently. Something black shot out like a cannonball. Cyd stepped in front of Hephaestus instinctively—and caught it barehanded.
Bad move.
The residual heat licked up his right arm like wildfire. His sleeve incinerated. Flames coiled around his skin.
"Ow."
"You didn't need to do that, y'know," Hephaestus said, not unkindly, watching him with a raised brow.
"Reflex," Cyd grunted, blowing on his fingers before realizing it did absolutely nothing.
The object in his hand suddenly shivered—literally. It flexed like a living creature. A dozen fine black scales slithered over his arm, snapping together into a tight pattern. With a subtle pull, they clicked into place, forming a dragon-scaled gauntlet.
And then… it grew.
Shadows swirled. Black light coursed through the gaps in the scale until it burst outward, reshaping into a translucent dragon's claw that encased his hand and forearm.
He flexed his fingers. The claw flexed with him.
"Whoa."
"Crafted from the dragon's nerves and scales," Hephaestus explained, arms crossed. "Laced with divine iron. It's not a tool, Cyd—it's an extension of your body. You want a blade? It becomes one. You need a shield? Same deal. But its true potential is yours to figure out."
Cyd stared at the shimmering claw like a kid handed the keys to a chariot. "Okay, this is the coolest thing ever. Got anything else?! Like a dragonbone spear? Or a tail-whip thing?"
"Nope," Hephaestus said flatly, popping the p. "The rest of the corpse was too big. It started to rot. I tossed it into the lava."
"Wait—what?!" Cyd's mouth dropped open. "The teeth?! The fangs?! Those are magic!"
She gestured lazily toward the bubbling vat. "Help yourself. Might still be floating. But good luck using 'em."
Cyd groaned into his hands. "So much waste…"
"I mean, if you want dragon teeth, I can just give you some," Hephaestus said, confused. "They're not rare."
"That's not the point!"
As Cyd sulked, Medusa stepped closer and tapped the back of his hand. "Hey," she said, peering at the gauntlet. "These markings… they look a lot like the script on that necklace Medea gave you."
Cyd froze. "Wait, what?"
Right. The lion fang necklace—still hidden under his shirt. He'd all but forgotten it.
"It's just a charm," he said, fishing it out. "Medea said it was for good luck."
Hephaestus's eyes narrowed. "Let me see."
He handed it over. The goddess examined the curved lion tooth. Her expression went from intrigued to stone-faced.
"Did you even read the script on this?"
"I mean… I tried. Thought it was a design. You know, artistic flair?"
"That's ancient script," Hephaestus said, voice like a hammer striking steel. "Old magic. Dangerous magic. The kind you don't slap on jewelry unless you know exactly what you're doing."
Cyd's stomach turned. "So what does it say?"
Hephaestus didn't answer at first. She stared at the necklace like it had personally offended her.
"Don't worry," Cyd said quickly. "Medea tried to curse me once before, and it didn't take. Apollo's blessing burns it out."
"That may stop a curse," Hephaestus murmured, "but not everything is a curse. Some things are more… permanent."
She handed it back, but her tone had changed. Something softer. Maybe pity.
Cyd slipped the necklace back under his collar, suddenly very aware of the weight.
"Anyway!" he said, clapping his hands too loudly. "Back to the weaponry!"
But Hephaestus didn't move. Her eyes remained fixed on him, unreadable.
"Some things you'll have to figure out on your own," she said. "Even gods can't protect you from everything."
Cyd blinked. "That's comforting."
"Oh, it's not supposed to be," she said, smiling grimly. "But you'll manage."
He left the forge that day with fire at his side, steel on his skin, and a lot more questions than he came with.
Later, when Hephaestus was alone, she rolled to the window and stared into the molten light of her forge.
"To my hero, I offer my burning love, huh?"
She exhaled a sigh of sparks and shook her head.
"You foolish girl. You think he belongs to you?"
She turned away from the light.
"He doesn't even belong to himself yet."
Meanwhile, miles away…
Medusa tilted her head as she walked beside Cyd.
"Say… the markings on your new gauntlet. They're almost identical to the ones on that necklace."
"Yeah," Cyd muttered, still watching the clawed hand flex with each step. "Except at the end. There's a different character."
"What does it mean?"
He shrugged.