The Soul Forge by Andrew Lashway

he saw was a group of people who had lost the will to exist. They sat around, gazing sadly at the sky, none in a group bigger than three. The children didn’t play but simply watched the floor as if the insects were the most entertaining thing around.
    If Thomas didn’t know any better, he would say this place had fallen on some extremely hard times. Every face he looked in had the matching expression of depression.
    Only the homes had any essence of former excellence. They were carved from a deep red wood, mixed with different colors of stone and each had their own individual carvings. They were deep circles within circles, forever orbiting each other. Thomas was almost completely distracted by the houses he nearly forgot to check for the children. Remembering himself, he started moving from child group to child group.
    Strangely, not one elf gave him a second look.
    It was amongst the third group of dormant children that he saw who he was looking for. The little girl was idly picking at the grass, staring at it with a vacant expression.
    “Pardon me, sweetheart,” Thomas said, crouching down so they would be at eye level, “are you Etanta?”
    The little girl nodded, a spark of life reaching her eyes.
    “Well, now don’t tell anyone, but I have a gift for you.”
    “A gift?” the little girl said with a croak. She hadn’t spoken in a very long time. “What for?”
    “It’s a gift from your daddy,” Thomas whispered.
    “Ovano doesn’t send me gifts. He’s an evil man. He made my real daddy go away,” Etanta whispered back, rage coloring every breath.
    Thomas’ brow furrowed. Something was going on here, something decidedly wicked. Relegating that for the time being, he said, “this is a gift from your real daddy.”
    Her face changed so fast it was as if Thomas had lit a candle. She immediately thrust her hands out hungrily, eyeing Thomas for her gift. It only lasted for a moment however, before she pulled her hands back in and took a deep breath, closing her eyes.
    “May I please have my gift, sir?” Etanta asked politely. Thomas almost laughed, and indeed couldn’t keep a smile from spreading across his face.
    “My name’s Thomas, sweetheart. And of course you can.”
    He held out the letter, and it was clear every fiber of her being wanted to snatch it from him. But she restrained herself, taking it gently and saying, “thank you.”
    “Oh go ahead,” Thomas said, “open it up and read it.”
    She took his permission immediately, tearing open the envelope and pulling out the letter hidden inside. Her eyes scanned the page, moving back and forth so fast Thomas felt dizzy just watching her. The further she read, the more her expression shifted from elation to worry, and that was soon a worry that Thomas shared. She should be the happiest girl in Verdonti, but the letter didn’t seem to be having its desired effect.
    “What is that?” a deep voice sounded. Thomas and Etanta looked up to see an emaciate d man standing on the porch of the nearest home, staring down at them. Thomas felt Zach stir next to him, no doubt on edge. The man had to be Ovano, the way he held himself despite his clear lack of nutrition. There was an air about him that Thomas immediately disliked, as if this elf thought he was better than everyone around him.
    The elf walked down the stairs, his high forehead wrinkled and his large nose turned to the sky . The robe he wore was a bright yellow that Thomas found hard to look at, and the face was even less inviting.
    “N… nothing, Ovano,” Etanta stammered, trying and failing to hide the letter behind her back.
    “I have told you time and time again,” Ovano roared, “to call me, ‘Father.’”
    Etanta stayed completely silent in defiance. Thomas looked back and forth between the two, seeing an anger that shouldn’t have belonged on either face apparent on both.
    He shared a glance with Zach, both men thinking the same thing – something was wrong.
    “Who are