Forged Destiny [Book 2: Ch. 5]

Blake's hands were in mind, still so cold as I drew her back into the relative warmth of the cave.

"Y-Your hands are warm," she stuttered. "Strangely warm."

"Blake," I whispered, "compared to you, everything is warm."

"A-Ah… maybe so…" Her nose twitched and she drew in a sniffling breath. "Maybe I imagined it."

I smiled and nodded, even if I didn't let go. She didn't either, too desperate for the heat. She hadn't imagined it, though I felt confident in saying she wouldn't remember it, either. Even if she did, I doubted she'd place it as the skill of a Blacksmith. Stoke the Forge generated heat in my hands, but thankfully it was one of the few skills I had which didn't require there to be metal of ore nearby. Controlling the temperature was second nature, even if it was several hundred degrees lower than I was used to.

The Assassin sighed in relief as her skin warmed up. No doubt without meaning to, she stepped a little closer to bask in it.

—Forged Destiny [Book 2: Ch. 5]