Weeks had passed since the group first began experimenting with magic and honing their skills, each member growing steadily into their unique potential. For Dorian, elemental magic had become his clear strength. Though fire and water stubbornly eluded him, he showed an almost natural affinity for lightning, wind, and nature-based spells. With consistent practice, he began weaving these elements into his songs, creating subtle, dazzling displays of glowing leaves, gusts of air, or tiny arcs of electricity.
"Still no aura, huh?" Lucas teased one afternoon after Dorian's unsuccessful attempts to boost his speed through magic.
"Nope," Dorian admitted with a grin, slumping onto the grass. "Guess I'll stick with being a show-off bard instead of a lightning-powered warrior."
Lucas twirled his wooden sword, his movements slow but deliberate. His stances were noticeably more refined now, the product of weeks of persistent practice.
"You're looking sharp there," Ryssa said, watching him work. "Still following that weird old book?"
Lucas shrugged, planting his feet and shifting into another stance. "Weird or not, it works. Honestly, it feels like it was written for me."
Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Where did you get that thing, anyway? It's got some... unusual techniques. Not exactly the kind of training you'd see from the kingdom's knights."
"I found it when I was a kid," Lucas replied, not meeting their eyes. "In an old chest we use for storage. It was just there, so I kept it. Never told anyone—figured if it didn't make sense, I'd stop trying it out. But it does make sense. For me, at least."
"That's all that matters," Bogo said simply, glancing up from his work with a small smile.
…
Meanwhile, Ryssa's confidence grew as she delved deeper into her family's pyromantic heritage under her grandfather's guidance. Though her training was infrequent—only an hour every few days—she absorbed knowledge quickly, her flames becoming brighter and steadier with each lesson.
"You've changed," Vaerin remarked one evening, watching his granddaughter summon a controlled burst of fire to her palm.
"I guess I have," Ryssa said, her tone soft but resolute. "It's... not as scary as it used to be. The more I learn, the more I feel like it's mine. Like I control it—not the other way around."
Vaerin smiled faintly, his tail flicking in approval. "Then you're already ahead of where I was at your age. Keep that fire burning, ember."
…
The group hadn't seen much of Bogo in recent weeks, as he frequently slipped away from their outings and experiments to work on his mysterious project. Whenever they pressed him for details, he would only grin and say, "It's almost done. Trust me—it'll be worth the wait."
Finally, one crisp morning, Bogo invited them to his family's workshop.
The workshop was alive with the soft glow of morning light filtering through dusty windows, tools scattered neatly across benches, and the scent of polished wood and stone filling the air. At the center of the space stood a towering shape hidden under a heavy cloth, the corners of the drape trailing the floor like a curtain about to rise.
Lucas raised an eyebrow, his wooden sword resting on his shoulder. "You've been hiding this for months? What is it, the royal carriage?"
"Close enough," Bogo said with a teasing grin. "Come closer, all of you."
The group stepped forward, standing in a semicircle. Dorian tilted his head, green eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "It's big... Whatever it is, it better be good."
"Oh, it's good," Bogo replied, grabbing the edge of the drape. "Get ready."
With a practiced yank, he pulled the cloth away in a single motion, letting it collapse to the ground in a soft whoosh.
What it revealed left the group utterly speechless.
Standing tall and resplendent before them was a wooden statue—a masterpiece that captured the group not just as they were but as they aspired to be. Each figure was larger than life, imbued with incredible detail and a sense of personality, frozen in the moment of achieving their dreams.
At the center was Lucas, his stance brimming with confidence as he held a grand sword etched with intricate runes, its tip resting against the ground. His armor shone with carved patterns of strength, from broad pauldrons to a sturdy chestplate embossed with the faint outlines of Suntails Hollow's countryside. A proud helm rested under his arm, its crest tall, hinting at a knight not of the kingdom but of the village he vowed to protect.
To his side stood Ryssa, her form poised and commanding. She wore elegant robes that seemed to flow even in stone, etched with arcane symbols that glittered faintly in the workshop's light. Her horns framed her regal expression, and flames curled gracefully around her fingers. A faint aura of wisdom was carved into the tilt of her head and the focus in her eyes, her tiefling heritage fully embraced.
On the other side of Lucas was Dorian, a vision of vibrant energy and showmanship. His bardic attire was lavish but not ostentatious: a tailored coat with flowing lapels, embroidered with subtle motifs of songbirds and quills. A broad sash cinched his waist, from which dangled small trinkets—a quill, a charm, and a tiny scroll. His lute, held confidently at an angle, gleamed as if mid-performance, while his face bore a confident, roguish grin that seemed to challenge the world.
Every inch of the statue was a testament to Bogo's artistry and devotion.
The group stood in stunned silence.
Ryssa's golden eyes widened as she ran her fingers along the flowing edge of her robes. "Bogo... this is..." Her voice trailed off, lost between awe and gratitude.
"Incredible," Dorian finished for her, stepping closer to his wooden counterpart. His hands hovered over the lute, marveling at the detail. The strings looked ready to pluck, and his embroidered coat bore designs he hadn't even imagined yet. "How did you—this is beyond anything I could've dreamed."
Lucas, usually quick with a quip, stood silently for a moment, staring at his armored self. Finally, he exhaled and laughed softly. "Look at me. Look at me!" He mimicked the statue's stance, planting his wooden sword against the ground. "I look like I could take on an army."
Ryssa grinned. "Better hope you can still fight dragons in your fancy armor."
"Better hope you don't burn your robes first," Lucas shot back, the mirth in his voice as genuine as ever.
Bogo watched them, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. "I wanted to show you," he said quietly, "what I see when I look at you guys. Not just who you are, but who you could be."
Ryssa turned toward him, her tail swaying. "Bogo, this must've taken months. You didn't have to—"
"I wanted to," Bogo interrupted gently. "You've all been chasing your dreams—facing your fears. I wanted to do something for us. To remind us."
"You're unbelievable," Lucas said, shaking his head. "I hope you're prepared for this statue to have a permanent audience. People are going to come here just to look at it."
"Good," Bogo replied, grinning broadly.
Soon enough, the workshop filled with laughter as the group took turns posing like their wooden selves.
"Not bad, not bad," Lucas said, adjusting his stance and frowning in mock concentration. "But next time, make the statue's hair a bit messier. Too perfect isn't realistic."
Dorian smirked, tossing his lute in his hands like a showman. "I think mine's spot on. The bravado? The charisma? Chef's kiss."
Ryssa rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling as she mimicked her statue's magical pose. "I suppose if this is what I'm destined to look like, I'll take it. Even if I wouldn't be caught dead in those exact robes."
Bogo crossed his arms, a small laugh rumbling in his chest. "Next time, remind me not to let you guys near works in progress."
Their laughter faded into a moment of warmth as they stood together, staring up at their likenesses in stone.
"This is us," Dorian said softly, his voice tinged with emotion. "Not just how we look... but what we're becoming."
Ryssa, Lucas, and Bogo exchanged glances, their shared bond unspoken yet palpable. Without hesitation, they pulled Bogo into a group hug, their laughter echoing through the workshop once more.
For the first time, their dreams felt not just possible but real.