The Hollow Stone

Kilot took a swig of his water, then splashed the rest onto his ash-covered face. 'I must be getting old,' he thought. 'I could have sworn the ground shook for a moment there.' He threw the empty waterskin into his spatial ring and returned to the cooling rack, where a half-dozen medallions awaited their finishing touches. Normally, weapons and armor were Kilot's first priority. He had already made a dagger as a warm-up, but Doevm had specified the medallions first, for whatever reason. Kilot didn't care enough to ask why.

Kilot hovered the back of his hand over a medallion, moved to the second, and so on until he reached the end. Five of them were still too hot to work with, as expected, yet the sixth must have fallen off the rack. It stared at him from the ground, as if asking him how it had gotten there. Kilot frowned.