[Third Person’s PoV]

Lucian stood in the center of the room and snapped his fingers, as if commanding it to obey. Instantly, the runes and sigils around the chamber glowed, and the entire room began to rotate, the symbols spinning in sync. It felt as though they were trapped inside a giant Rubik’s cube, rapidly twisting to solve itself.

Despite the shifting room, Lucian and Annabeth remained stationary, the only things untouched by the motion. Annabeth sat in a chair, observing the spectacle with a mixture of confusion and wariness.

When the room ceased its rotation, sections of the walls lifted to reveal hidden compartments. One compartment displayed an array of weapons crafted by Lucian, many imbued with curses. Another held unprocessed minerals and metals, while a third showcased shelves of various metal ingots. In front of Lucian, the wall opened fully, revealing his forge.

“I really don’t understand you sometimes,” Annabeth said, shaking her head.

“Hm?” Lucian hummed in response, curious.

“What was the point of all that? You could have just dug deeper or expanded sideways to build your forge,” Annabeth said with exasperation.

“Where’s the fun in that? That would’ve been boring. ‘Let me just walk to the side to my forge,'” Lucian mocked, scoffing. “I don’t go to my forge. My forge comes to me. Come on, you can’t deny that what I just did was way cooler than simply walking to the side.”

“Oh right, my bad. How foolish of me. I should’ve remembered how theatrical you like to be,” Annabeth replied sarcastically.

Lucian rolled his eyes and held out his hands in a gesture indicating he was done with the conversation. He walked toward his forge.

With a whistle, a large Hellhound emerged from his shadow. “Wait a minute while I set everything up. Your job is going to be very important in a moment, understood?”

The Hellhound nodded and sat down. Lucian waved his hand, sending a wave of flames into the furnace, increasing the heat until the room felt like the inside of the furnace itself.

Lucian and Annabeth began to sweat. Annabeth quickly set up a protective ward around her chair to shield herself from the intense heat.

Lucian pulled a Stygian Iron ingot from his shadow, flipping it in his hands. Despite its refined state, he trusted his skills to enhance it further. He grabbed the ingot with tongs and placed it in the furnace, waiting until it glowed bright red.

Using the tongs, Lucian pulled the iron to an anvil, summoned a hammer with his free hand, and began striking the metal to remove impurities.

CLANK

Momentarily forgetting his herculean strength, Lucian was surprised by the screeching sound the metal emitted. Adjusting his force, he continued, each strike still powerful enough to drive out the impurities.

He used his magnetism to return the tongs and iron to the furnace when it cooled, repeating the process methodically. As he worked, sweat soaked through his shirt, making it cling uncomfortably to his body.

Frustrated, he stripped off the shirt and tossed it aside, where it landed with a wet squelch.

Annabeth peeked over the top of her book, which was now upside down, her face flushed with a deep blush as she stole glances at Lucian.

Once Lucian completed the refining process, he turned to the Hellhound. “Here, I want you to take this and submerge it in the River Styx. Hold it until it’s completely cooled.”

He placed the tongs along the Hellhound’s jaw. The creature leaped into the air and dove into Lucian’s shadow, vanishing. Lucian then extended his arms, causing his shadow to expand outward. Using his shadows, he began to craft constructs, first creating a large container to hold the molten metal, followed by a mold to shape the weapon.

With one eye closed, he monitored the Hellhound, mentally commanding it to return once the ingot had cooled. When the Hellhound reappeared, the ingot had a darker, shinier luster, confirming Lucian’s decision to refine it again. He placed the ingot into the furnace, positioning the container beneath it, and increased the heat to melt the metal.

…

Lucian hammered a hot blade, passing it to the Hellhound, waiting for its return, and repeating the process. Once the Hellhound returned for the final time, Lucian dismissed it. “You’re dismissed. Thanks for your hard work,” he said, scratching his chin.

He connected the blade to a handle he had crafted earlier. The handle was black, with dark wrappings around it. After attaching the blade, he began sharpening it on a grindstone, squinting to avoid the sparks flying into his eyes, ignoring those that landed on his bare chest. He ran the blade through the grindstone until he could see his reflection in its dark surface.

When finished, Lucian tapped the blade’s sharp edge, causing his finger to bleed slightly. He nodded in satisfaction.

Lucian swung the blade downward, producing a sharp sound as it cut through the air, almost like a cry.

“Mourning,” he said suddenly.

“Huh?” Annabeth, snapped out of her reverie and her feverish gaze, realized she had been biting her lips the entire time.

“I know the owner usually names their weapon, but this feels right. Its name will be Mourning,” Lucian explained.

“Morning?” Annabeth asked, still distracted. “Why Morning?”

“Mourning, as in mourning the dead,” Lucian smirked.

He glanced at the container, noting the remaining metal from Nico’s ingot.

“Hmm… I’ll enchant you later when I finish making you a pet and a little sister,” Lucian said, caressing the blade softly.

He began crafting something extra for Nico with the leftover metal. After a while, Annabeth’s lips twitched as she watched him.

“Have you lost your mind? There’s no way you’re giving that to Nico!” she exclaimed.

Lucian held up a sleek black and purple Glock, adorned with skull engravings around its frame. “Why not? Retribution would be a wonderful addition for Nico.”

“You already named it…” Annabeth sighed. “Just so we’re clear, Bianca’s going to kill you for this.”

“And Nico’s going to love it, I just know it,” Lucian chuckled mischievously.

He then pulled out another ingot. “Now it’s time to make your sister, Mourning. You’re going to be one big happy family.”

Lucian began the process anew, this time crafting a bow. As he neared completion, Annabeth noticed the metallic string he had fashioned for the bow.

“Bianca is going to hurt herself with that, isn’t she?” Annabeth asked, concerned as she watched him attach the string.

“She’s not,” Lucian assured her. “I’m using the leftover molten iron to make her a secondary gift: strong protective gloves.”

“That’s not good at all… Nico gets a freaking gun as his secondary gift, and Bianca gets gloves? Your favoritism is showing,” Annabeth scoffed.

“It’s not favoritism. The gloves are going to be just as powerful, if not more so, once I’m done enchanting them.”

Lucian ran his finger along the metal string, reopening a cut on his hand. “It could be used to attack as well,” he mused, nodding to himself.

He drew the bowstring back in an expert archer’s stance, blood trickling from his fingers, which he ignored. Annabeth let out a soft whimper as she admired Lucian’s flexed, muscular back. She raised her book to her face, blushing and giggling to herself.

The sharp snap and ringing of the string being released drew Annabeth’s attention back. When she peeked again, Lucian had his eyes closed, listening to the sound as he lowered the weapon slowly.

“Lament…” Lucian murmured. “You’re Lamentation, Lament for short. The bratty little sister.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to start giving them personalities now?” Annabeth sighed.

“Yes,” Lucian grinned. “Mourning is the cold older brother who will kill anyone if they mess with his family. Lament is the bratty little sister, acting out because she wants to be closer to her brother, who doesn’t like opening up. Retribution is the family dog, fiercely protective.”

“Pfft!” Annabeth burst out laughing, finding Lucian’s elaborate lore amusing. “That’s awesome! So what’s the story for the gloves?” she asked teasingly.

“I’ll know once they’re done. I’ll feel their name and personality once they’re in my hands.”

Lucian got to work, using the remaining molten iron, leather, and monster skin to craft comfortable black gloves. Each glove bore a large snowflake emblem in the center. He ran his fingers over the knuckles, which were reinforced with Stygian iron.

“Grace…” Lucian said softly. “Grace is an attention-starved cat,” he chuckled. “There, the family is complete.”

“Of course she is,” Annabeth scoffed, shaking her head.

Lucian cracked his knuckles. “Now for the entertaining part… the enchantments.”

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