By Art Intelli

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the dusty yard outside the blacksmith’s forge. The clang of hammer on metal echoed, sharp and unforgiving. Inside the forge, the heat was almost unbearable, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning coal.

The blacksmith, a burly man with arms like tree trunks and a face set in a permanent scowl, worked with practiced precision. His hands, rough and scarred from years of toil, moved with surprising dexterity as he heated the iron rivets to a glowing red. He glanced up, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his latest task.

Before him stood a man, tall and broad-shouldered, his face a mask of defiance. His shirt, torn and stained, clung to his muscular frame, revealing a lattice of old scars and fresh bruises. The blacksmith smirked, a cruel glint in his eye, as he picked up a pair of heavy shackles.

“Hold him steady,” he barked to the guards flanking the prisoner. They tightened their grip, forcing the man’s arms into the iron restraints. He didn’t flinch, his gaze fixed on some distant point, jaw clenched.

With a practiced motion, the blacksmith positioned the glowing rivet, the heat radiating from it palpable even at a distance. He set it in place, and with a mighty swing of his hammer, drove it through the iron, sealing the shackle shut. The sound of metal on metal was deafening, the force of the blow sending a shockwave through the prisoner’s body.

A hiss of pain escaped the man’s lips, but he didn’t cry out. The blacksmith sneered, moving to the other wrist. Again, the rivet was placed, and the hammer fell. Each strike was deliberate, merciless, the blacksmith taking a twisted pleasure in his work.

When the final rivet was in place, the blacksmith stepped back, wiping sweat from his brow. The prisoner stood, bound and immobile, his chest heaving with the effort of suppressing the pain. The blacksmith gave a curt nod to the guards, signaling that the task was complete.

“Get him out of my sight,” he growled, turning back to his forge. As the guards dragged the man away, the blacksmith’s laughter echoed in the oppressive heat, a sound as hard and cold as the iron he worked.

Metal would like to thank the author, Art Intelli, for the story — and the image!