Forged a knife that sings in the dark

The blade took three days—too many heats, too many misfires. But when I finally pulled it from the fire, it didn’t just hold an edge. It hummed. Not loud, but low, like a note caught between breath and memory. I tested it on a scrap of oak, and the sound stayed in the air after the cut. I don’t know why it does that. Maybe the steel remembers something I don’t. Or maybe silence is just louder than I thought.