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tragedy

THE BLACKSMITH WHO FORGED A NATION

In the war-torn kingdom of Valdris, where kings are crowned and deposed by the sword, where poets sing of brave knights and dashing generals, the story of Hannah would never be told. She is a blacksmith's widow in the forgotten village of Ironvale, a woman doing a "man's job" just to keep her two young children from starving. When her husband is conscripted and killed in the first battle of a pointless war, Hannah is left with nothing but her grief, her hammer, and a forge that is slowly going cold. She wants nothing from this world except to be left alone. But the world has other plans. A routed army detachment staggers into Ironvale, hunted by an enemy noble's elite cavalry. Their captain is dying, their weapons are shattered, and their cause is lost. Hannah, with no love for the king who took her husband, wants to turn them away. But the enemy doesn't ask whose side you're on. They only ask if you're in their way. Forced to repair the soldiers' equipment to save her village from being caught in the crossfire, Hannah does more than just fix broken swords. She improves them. Her husband's death taught her something the royal armories never learned: the difference between a weapon that looks glorious on a parade ground and a weapon that keeps a man alive in a real fight. She reforges their blades with a hidden strength, reinforces their armor with a practical flexibility, and designs a new type of horseshoe that won't crack on rough terrain. When the cavalry arrives, the king's men—with Hannah's humble work in their hands—win against impossible odds. The enemy captain, dying in the mud of her village, sees her at her forge. His last words are a curse that will follow her forever: "The king has a new witch. A smith witch." Word spreads like wildfire. The Smith Witch of the North becomes a whisper on the wind—a tale of a woman who can make a farmer's scythe cut through steel, who can turn scrap into salvation. Hannah wants none of it. She wants to raise her children, tend her forge, and live in peace. But war is a tide, and her village is built on sand. As the kingdom crumbles around her, as refugees flood her valley and deserters seek her out, Hannah discovers that peace is not something you can hide from. It's something you have to build. With her hammer as her only weapon, her forge as her fortress, and her children as her reason to fight, she will do what no general, no king, no hero has ever done: She will forge a nation from the ashes. This is not a story about a woman who learned to fight. It's a story about a woman who learned that the sharpest sword in the world is useless without someone to forge it, someone to sharpen it, and someone to believe in the hand that wields it.
TheLazyWriter241 · 165 Views

Illusive Eden - He Pretends He's the Hero

Neva and Rhett—two young souls—find their heartstrings woven in love. But just as passion and peace begin to bloom, fate intervenes. Bleak, haunting circumstances scatter blades across their romance, threatening to tear them apart. Ishmael—a man with a heart of thorns—yearns to mend the wound of losing Neva. And in the end, rays of love and joy filter through the clouds of horror that darken his world—as Neva appears before him once more. Twisted fate entangles them all, revealing the Game of Sphere, as misery scorches their souls. A concealed life beyond turns its pages—one after another—gathering sin and virtue, tragedy and fortune, strength and frailty, creation, love... and hate. Illusion is where we live—in the garden of Eden before the fall of man. Illusion is serenity—an evermore sanguine of love. The vision of paradise in the New Earth sows hope deep in the soul. The delusory pleasures of this world ignite the flames that burn in oceans of fire. Illusive Eden is rapture. Illusive Eden is tragedy. The fall of man—even now bleeds red. The whisper whirls the dawn of a man—he who pretends to be the hero. --- The girl who once vowed to be his forever Now forbids him to ever appear. She refuses to recognize him, Disregarding all he ever was. He vows to protect her. Yet he is the terrifying truth she prays is a lie. He trips her, rips her apart— He's the living tragedy looming over her life. He once was her Elayne, now her hiraeth. He is the villain—pretending to be the hero. --- The Lord is the way— Steady through the wilderness. The King is the truth— Burning through the lies. The Father is the life— Breathing spirit into dust. She kneels before the Ruler, The God who shaped galaxies— He has called her a poet. Her tongue shall be anointed. Her poetry shall be the rivers of His word. She will scatter seeds in broken fields, And He will send the sun. He will send the rain. He will draw the roots down deep. He yields to the Ruler, The God of blazing holiness— He has called him a soldier. His fists shall be unclenched. The sword of the Spirit rests in his grip. He will shield the sower of the seeds, As storms rise against the harvest. His strength will be not his own, But drawn from the marrow of grace. This faith shall shake the mountains, For He has conquered the filth of the flesh. This flame will cleanse the shadows. For He has defeated the darkness. This love shall live on for eternity, For He has overcome the mortal world.
NehaPriaa · 293.9k Views