Elliot's eyes lit up before Adam ended his sentence. His fingers twitched around the wooden hilt of the hammer at his belt, its weight failing to steady his trembling fist. His lips tightened in rare solemnity as the forge's coal-thick air filled his lungs.
"I don't know how well you mastered enchanting techniques, but I want to trust you, to believe that even my dream, my poor skills everyone mocks, are worth pursuing," he said, voice low like a plea. "Please, show me what your style above all can create." He shook his head, rolling his sleeves up. "I'll help you however I can."
