Many of Ryden's creations didn't serve a practical purpose, yet they transformed their campsites into places of breathtaking beauty.
One night, after a long day of travel, Ryden carved a sunburst into a large piece of bark he'd salvaged from a fallen tree. He carefully etched each ray, his strokes deliberate and precise. When he placed it near the fire, the carving glowed faintly, casting soft, golden light across their camp.
The light wasn't just illumination—it was warm, comforting, and oddly uplifting. The golden glow softened the hard edges of their surroundings, making even the rough plains feel like a sanctuary.
Lucy sat quietly by the sunburst, her head resting on her knees as the light reflected in her green eyes. Even Rice, who was usually the loudest of the group, stayed uncharacteristically silent, staring at the glowing carving with a faint smile.
"This is nice," Darius admitted, his voice low as he leaned back against his pack.
Ryden didn't say anything, but the small smile on his lips showed he'd heard.
Not all of Ryden's sculptures had clear purposes. Some emitted strange energies or exhibited behaviors that puzzled the group.
One evening, Ryden carved a spiral into a smooth stone he'd picked up earlier that day. The spiral was intricate, the grooves deep and mesmerizing. When he finished, the stone began to hum faintly, the vibrations just strong enough to be felt through the ground.
"What's it supposed to do?" Rice asked, poking it with a stick.
"No idea," Ryden admitted, watching as the spiral seemed to pulse with a faint light.
Another time, he created a crescent moon from a shard of stone, its edges smooth and its surface polished to a soft sheen. When he placed it on a flat rock near the campfire, the crescent began to glow faintly, casting a silvery light that seemed to shift and shimmer like water.
"It's beautiful," Lucy murmured, her gaze fixed on the crescent.
"Yeah," Ryden agreed. "But I have no clue what it does."
Despite its unclear purpose, the group left it there, allowing its soft glow to light their camp through the night.
Darius, on the other hand, delved deeper into his blacksmithing abilities. While the tools and weapons he crafted were already impressive, he began experimenting with the materials he found along the way—stone, bone, and even spirit-touched objects. Some of his creations seemed to resonate with the spirits, while others held subtle magical properties.
The plains, vast and unyielding at first, began to reveal their hidden beauty.
The plains, though vast and sprawling, were occasionally broken by ribbons of life that added an unexpected charm to their journey. Small streams wound their way through the grasslands, their waters clear and sparkling like liquid crystal. The gentle babble of the streams provided a soothing melody that softened the otherwise quiet expanse of the plains. Whenever they came across one, the group would pause, crouching to cup their hands and drink deeply from the cool water. Lucy's reflection often rippled in the stream, her silver hair gleaming in the sunlight as she watched the water flow.
Scattered groves of trees appeared as if placed by an artist's careful hand, their trunks sturdy and branches spread wide. The leaves rustled softly in the wind, creating a sound reminiscent of distant whispers. These groves became sanctuaries, their shade a welcome relief from the midday sun. The trees themselves seemed ancient and wise, their roots twisting deeply into the earth, offering a sense of timeless stability amidst the ever-changing journey.
The plains were alive with creatures, though most were cautious and kept their distance. Herds of grazing animals—sleek, deer-like creatures with spiral-shaped antlers—moved gracefully through the grass, their silhouettes dark against the golden waves of the horizon. Occasionally, a lone buck would lift its head, its antlers catching the sunlight, before bounding away to join its herd.
Above, birds with iridescent feathers painted the sky with their graceful arcs. Their plumage shimmered in shades of blue, green, and gold, creating a kaleidoscope of color as they wheeled and dove. Their calls echoed across the plains, sometimes sharp and musical, other times soft and haunting.
The group often paused to watch these creatures. Lucy, despite her cautious nature, would inch closer to the edge of their camp to see the herds more clearly, her green eyes wide with wonder. Ryden occasionally sketched the birds, trying to capture the brilliant play of colors in their feathers, though he often muttered that no drawing could truly do them justice.
The beauty of the plains was most striking during the transitions of the day. Each morning, as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, the world seemed to awaken in a burst of gold and orange. The dew-covered grass sparkled like diamonds, and the cool morning air carried the earthy scent of the plains. The sky transformed from a deep, star-speckled blue to a brilliant canvas of light, the colors shifting with every passing moment.
Evenings, however, were a different kind of magic. As the sun sank lower, the sky became a masterpiece of deep purples, fiery reds, and vibrant oranges. Shadows stretched long across the plains, and the golden grass took on a warm, amber glow. Ryden often paused during these moments, pulling out his makeshift pigments to sketch the sunset. His fingers would be smeared with streaks of red and orange as he captured the grandeur on scraps of parchment.
"You never get tired of it, do you?" Darius once asked, watching Ryden work.
"No," Ryden replied without looking up. "It's like the sky's trying to tell us a story, and I'm just trying to listen."
When the sun finally disappeared, the night brought its own kind of wonder. The sky was a vast tapestry of stars, their light unpolluted and brilliant against the inky blackness. Constellations spread across the heavens, their patterns more vivid than any the trio had seen before.
Lucy would lie on her back, her silver hair spread out like a halo as she stared up at the stars, her green eyes reflecting their glow. Ryden would sit nearby, pointing out shapes and weaving tales about mythical heroes and spirits.
"That one," he said one night, gesturing toward a cluster of stars that formed a curved arc, "looks like a bow. Legend has it that a great hunter shot an arrow into the sky, and it's been there ever since, watching over travelers."
Lucy's voice was soft as she asked, "Is it true?"
Ryden smiled. "Who knows? But it makes the journey feel a little less lonely, doesn't it?"
The night air was cool and carried the faint scent of wildflowers. In the distance, the calls of nocturnal creatures added an almost ethereal quality to the moment. Darius poked at the campfire, the flames crackling softly, as Rice snored faintly nearby.
As the days turned into weeks, the group's dynamic shifted. Lucy became more comfortable with her new companions, though she still kept Rice at arm's length, occasionally hissing at him for fun.
Rice, undeterred, continued his antics, his humor keeping the group's spirits high. "One day," he declared after one of Lucy's hisses, "you'll admit im awesome. And I will graciously accept your apology."
Ryden and Darius exchanged amused glances as they continued to watch the stars glisten in the night sky.