While the battered incarnation was tending to the Nameless Temple, another one was in the great hall of the ruined cathedral — which had become somewhat of a forge now.
At the far end, under the watchful gaze of the Nameless Goddess, the somber shadow of the King of Swords was forging an enormous breastplate. He was using the altar as an anvil, while the material he forged to create the giant suit of armor was manifested shadows. His hammer rose and fell, shaping the shadows into form…
The former King's face was still and impassive, and his gaze was strangely both full of cold intelligence and empty, lacking the spark of life. He still retained his sublime skill as a blacksmith and artisan, as well as the keen judgment necessary to employ it, but not the will and spirit that made one a person.
The shadow of Anvil had neither desires nor emotions, existing in a tranquil state of silent emptiness.
