Cc-clank... cc-clank… cc-clank…
Standing over your anvil, you bring your hammer down solidly and rhythmically against the curved metal of the helm you are forging.
Cc-clank... cc-clank… cc-clank…
Shifting the white-hot, half-formed object around on the anvil’s step, your mind starts to drift in time with the beat of the hammer.
Cc-clank... cc-clank… cc-clank…
Sparks burst forth from each impact, illuminating each thought and casting against the fire-blackened walls of your smithy forge-shadows you’ve seen a thousand thousand times.
Cc-clank... cc-clank… cc-clank…
One of the sparks, caught in a draft, dances away from the hood you installed to funnel embers up and out. It lands on the floor at your feet. Your eyes flicker down to ensure it lands safely, away from anything flammable.
Cc-clank... cc-clank… cc-cl-
Sudden darkness. All the fires go out. Not just the main forge fire; but the torches ensconced on the walls; the two smaller fires banked up in the corners. Everything doused in an instant.
You blink, dwarven eyes attempting to adjust automatically to the pitch black.
Faint lines of light begin to spread and trace their way over the anvil. Orange. But not the warm, bright orange of the fires you know and love - a sickly orange, tinged with green, like... like…
Zot’Goran you think
like the orange light marring the surface of the landThe lines seem to be forming themselves into a shape of some sort… you see the hint of a skull; of horns; of a mouth…
...the main forge fire flares into life again, two giant wings of flame curving up either side of the sickly glowing anvil. Pure flame this time; orange-white with righteous heat. This flame burns hotter than any fire you have ever seen, hotter than all flame, hotter than all-flame…
All-Father?As you think this, the firey wings spread wide and in the heat-haze between them the face of a noble bird faintly shimmers, glaring down at you. Its sharp yellow beak opens and its voice rings out clearer than any hammer blow.
The image of the bird explodes into ashes and cinders, blinding you momentarily. You throw your hands up to protect your face and blistering pain flashes across your palms. You are violently knocked back and down onto the ground. You sit upright…
...and awake in your bed, sweating as though roasting over your own forge.
Feeling a stinging, searing ache in your hands, you look down to see the outline of a bird flash-burned into the skin of both palms - the left wing on your left hand, and the right wing on the other. You bring your hands together and the puffy-white scars form the solid outline of single bird. A phoenix.
) 
