The name hung in the air like the heat shimmer distorting the cavern—Ornn.
The demigod of the forge. The smith who shaped mountains.
And Edison was standing in the heart of his domain.
The Hearth-Home.
Edison hesitated at the edge of the dark stone bridge, the rhythmic clang of Ornn's hammer echoing through the cavern. He glanced back—
—and froze.
The Fabled Poro and the little poro were nowhere to be seen.
Guess I'm on my own now.
Edison sighed, running a hand through his hair.
He turned back toward the bridge. The massive chain-linked pathway stretched before him, leading to the central platform where the horned figure worked, hammer rising and falling in perfect, eternal rhythm.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Each strike sent vibrations through the stone beneath Edison's feet, as if the mountain itself resonated with Ornn's craft.
Edison's boots scraped against the stone as he took his first step onto the bridge. The heat was worse here, the air thick enough to choke on.
Below, rivers of lava churned, their glow painting the cavern in hellish red.
Ornn had built two Hearth-Homes.
The first was lost to time, buried beneath the fury of his battle with Volibear.
The second—if this was it—was a refuge, a place where the demigod had withdrawn from the world after the Hearthblood were wiped out by Volibear during their clash.
The Hearthblood— Craftsmen and smiths who sought only mastery, not glory. Even Ornn had silently admired their dedication to honing their skills.
The central platform loomed ahead, and with each step, Ornn's silhouette grew clearer—broad as a bear, crowned by curling horns, his massive frame bent over the anvil. His hammer struck again, sparks flying like shattered stars.
But as he stared at the towering figure ahead, another, more terrifying thought struck him.
What if this wasn't the second Hearth-Home at all?
What if, by some fucking twist, he'd stumbled into the first?
That would mean he wasn't just trespassing in the domain of a reclusive demigod—he was lost somewhere around 6000 to 8000 BN. A timeline he knew almost nothing about.
A time when gods still walked the land.
And one of them was right there.
He forced himself forward.
Because what else was he supposed to do?
Turn back?
Yeah, no.
Edison's pulse pounded in his ears.
He was close enough now to see the details—the thick, braided beard, the muscles coiled like forged steel, the eyes that burned with the same fire as the lava below.
Edison stopped at a distance of just a few dozen feet, Ornn stood nearly twelve feet tall, his curling horns adding another two feet to his already imposing stature.
In the lore Ornn's true height exceeds 250 feet which is about 80 meters tall.
Yet here, in the heart of his forge, Ornn had deliberately shrunk himself—perhaps to accommodate the cavern, or perhaps to accommodate his work.
Ornn still hadn't looked up.
Edison swallowed.
He opened his mouth—
—and Ornn spoke first.
"Quiet."
His voice was like boulders grinding together, deep enough to shake the stone beneath them.
Edison tensed up.
"...."
A beat passed. Then another.
Nothing.
The silence stretched, broken only by the rhythmic clang of Ornn's hammer.
Edison turned his attention to the glowing metal, as Ornn worked it with impossible precision—each strike sending up a shower of golden sparks that illuminated his massive frame.
Then, without ceremony, Ornn gripped the blazing sword's hilt with his bare hand and plunged it into the nearby water pool. Steam exploded outward in a hissing cloud.
"Sssssssss—'
When Ornn withdrew the blade, its edge gleamed with unnatural sharpness.
He examined it for a long moment before grunting—"Hmm."—and driving it point-first into the stone beside him.
Then those bright-red eyes locked onto Edison.
"How." A heavy pause. "Did you find this place."
Edison swallowed hard, the weight of Ornn's gaze pressed down on him like molten iron.
"I... didn't mean to," he began, voice slowly steadying. "I was brought here by some unknown means—dropped me right in the middle of a blizzard. Then the Ursine showed up."
He recalled their primal roars and rumbling lightning. "I ran, fell through some hidden ice chasm, and found tunnels leading... here."
He chose his next words carefully. "Truth is, I didn't find this place. A poro led me here. I didn't realize I was intruding on your domain."
He bowed his head slightly. "For that, I apologize."
Ornn let out a low hum that vibrated through the stone floor. "Reasonable explanation."
He turned back to his anvil—a massive slab of compressed dark ore—and scooped up a handful of gleaming black ingots from a nearby pile. "Since the little ones brought you, I'll overlook it."
He tossed the ingots into the forge, where they immediately began glowing white-hot. "But you'll return the way you came."
Edison opened his mouth to thank him—relieved that of all the Freljord's gods, he'd stumbled upon one of the more reasonable one.
Then the full meaning hit him.
Return?
Back through the tunnels?
To the Ursine?
Into the frozen unknown?
Hell no!
Then, a crazy idea took root...
Fuck it.
"The legends speak true..." Edison said suddenly. "Ornn the Firebringer. First Builder. Forgelord." He took a careful step forward. "I've admired your craftsmanship my whole life. To see it firsthand..."
He took a deep breath, as if mustering his courage. "I wish to learn."
"No." Ornn didn't even look up. "I don't need followers. I don't teach."
"I'm not asking to be taught," Edison said quickly. "Just to observe. And... I can offer something in return."
Guide!
He thought desperately.
Chocolate cake. Now.
"You're insane," Guide replied. But the shop interface flickered:
[Purchase confirmed: Chocolate Cake (-5 SP)]
[Remaining SP: 2]
The cake materialized in his hands—a decadent masterpiece of layered dark chocolate ganache and moist sponge, topped with perfect swirls of ruby-infused frosting that glistened under the forge's glow. The rich aroma of cocoa and vanilla cut through the mineral tang of the cavern.
Ornn's hammer paused mid-swing. His nostrils flared.
The last time he'd tasted chocolate cake was centuries ago, when the Hearthblood left one as tribute. He'd never admitted how he loved the delicate sweetness...
How does this mortal...
"One cake every week," Edison said, holding his breath, "for the chance to watch you work."
The forge's flames crackled.
After a short while, Ornn grunted. "You'll stay out of the way."
He snatched the cake with one massive hand and took a bite large enough to decapitate a normal dessert. Frosting smeared across his beard.
Edison wasn't sure if that meant yes or I will tolerate your existence for now.
But he didn't throw him out.
And that was enough.