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Hell, for all he knew, this whole vision trip could be a one-time thing. Perhaps after the Forge was fully functional, he wouldn't be able to communicate with it directly like this anymore.

He wanted to think that was unlikely, but then again, there was at least a good chance that Abbas would be using the Forge around the clock. And certainly, crafting items of potentially limitless value would take priority over future trips down memory lane like this.

So he took his time, wanting to get as much out of this vision as he could. Maybe that wasn't necessary, since the others were probably all learning way more than him, but eh. There was no harm in going the extra mile, he felt. That, and he was honestly just curious.

As thoughtful and careful as he was trying to be, however, he did not realize what he was getting himself into.


Chapter Two Hundred Fifty-Nine: 'The abiding rumble...'
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Abbas sat on the edge of the ancient bed, leaning forward with his hands folded in front of him. He rocked himself slightly back and forth as he waited, trying with some difficulty to have patience.

It had been hours already, and Hector had not returned to himself. The boy was just standing there, still as a statue with his hands pressed to the glass of the Forge.

The questions that had previously raced through his mind in an endless loop had finally settled down, giving way to little more than silent concern.

At first, the waiting had been a bother. Then quite obnoxious.

Now it was just worrisome.

He hoped with every fiber of his being that he had not unwittingly led the young Lord of Warrenhold to his doom. If his soul had become trapped or lost within the Forge... Abbas did not know what he would do.