Weeks passed, and the results of Tyrn's unconventional lessons became increasingly apparent. Under Dorian's magic, Suntails Hollow flourished in a way that seemed almost miraculous.
On one quiet morning, Dorian stood beside his father in the sprawling fields of corn that stretched beyond their home. As Gorlan harvested the golden stalks, Dorian held his lute close, humming softly as he strummed a slow, deliberate tune. Green tendrils of magic weaved through the rows, invigorating the plants and leaving them glistening as though kissed by morning dew.
"I swear, son," Gorlan said, shaking his head in disbelief. "These fields haven't looked this good since before I was born. Whatever you're doing, the land knows it."
Dorian grinned. "It's nothing fancy," he said. "Tyrn just taught me to feel the magic. It's like... I'm helping the plants grow the way they already want to."
The Highspire corn quickly gained a reputation for being the finest in the region. Mrs. Yara Tulls, Suntails Hollow's beloved miller, declared that her flour—made from Gorlan's corn—was now lighter, fluffier, and in greater demand than ever.
"You keep playing that magic music," Mrs. Tulls told Dorian one afternoon, her apron dusted with flour as she handed him a freshly baked loaf. "I don't know what you're doing, but don't stop. You're turning good food into something divine."
At the same time, Ryssa's lessons with Tyrn continued to erode the unease she'd felt about stepping outside her family's legacy of pyromancy. Over weeks of practice, she gained more control over water and wind magic, combining them into clever spells that Tyrn called "baby mastery."
Her newfound freedom didn't go unnoticed by her family. Vaerin, her grandfather, watched her progress with quiet pride, his golden eyes soft as he observed her fluid movements and graceful casting.
"You're breaking the chains, ember," he told her one evening after watching her conjure a perfect sphere of water. "Chains you didn't deserve to carry in the first place."
Ryssa's mother, Meryth, however, voiced concern. "But what about fire? It's who we are—it's what we are," Meryth insisted one night at dinner. "If she focuses too much on other things, I shouldn't have asked Tyrn for—"
"Stop," Vaerin interrupted gently but firmly, setting down his fork. His normally kind voice took on an edge of finality. "Ryssa doesn't need to be like your mother. Or me. Her magic is hers, not ours. Let her forge her own path."
Meryth's lips thinned, but she said no more, leaving Vaerin to silently thank the Twelve Gods that Ryssa had inherited her grandmother's courage without her single-mindedness.
…
One bright afternoon, Lucas, Dorian, and Ryssa made their way to the great oak tree for another lesson with Tyrn. They chatted lightly as they walked, their camaraderie evident in every teasing jab and shared laugh.
When they reached the clearing, however, they stopped short. A large group was gathered around the tree: Bogo stood at the center with his wide, beaming smile, surrounded by Suntails Hollow's hunters and his father's construction crew.
"What's going on?" Lucas asked, voicing the confusion on all their faces.
Bogo stepped forward, his hands on his hips. "It's nothing big. Just... an idea."
One of the older hunters, a grizzled elf named Revrin, chuckled as he clapped Bogo on the shoulder. "Nothing big? Don't sell yourself short, boy. This was your doing."
Dorian tilted his head. "Bogo? What's this about?"
Bogo's father, Garrin, stepped up, a hammer slung over his shoulder. His kind but weathered face crinkled with pride as he explained. "Bogo's trap worked. Better than any of us expected. The hunters insisted on giving him a share of the profits—we're making enough off these traps to feed half the village. But..."
"But," Bogo interrupted with a sheepish grin, "I refused their money."
Lucas threw up his hands. "Why?! What are you thinking, genius?"
"Instead of money," Bogo continued, ignoring Lucas, "I asked for materials. Wood, nails, tools. Enough to build something here—around this tree."
His wide smile grew brighter as he gestured to the tree and the surrounding clearing. "This is my part, for you."
"For us?" Dorian repeated, his voice soft with surprise.
Bogo nodded. "I know you'll all go on your adventures someday. Suntails Hollow is too small for dreams like yours. But before you leave... I want to give you a place to train. A proper place. It's not much, but it's what I can do."
Dorian felt his eyes sting, tears threatening to spill. He placed a hand over his heart, his voice trembling. "Bogo... I... you didn't have to..."
Lucas, unable to hold back his emotions, burst into tears. "I'll make you proud!" he bawled, pulling Bogo into a crushing hug.
"You already did," Bogo said softly, patting Lucas on the head as he grinned at his friends.
Ryssa sniffled, though she stubbornly refused to let a tear fall. "You're ridiculous, Bogo," she said with a half-laugh. "Ridiculous, but amazing."
They came together under the great oak tree in a tight group hug, their laughter and tears mingling as they celebrated the bond that tied them together—one that neither distance nor time could break.
As the group marveled over Bogo's heartfelt plan, Lucas clapped his hands together, drawing their attention. "Speaking of training, I've got something to show you," he said, pulling a worn leather book from his satchel. The edges were frayed, and the binding looked like it might fall apart at any moment, but the book exuded an undeniable air of mystery.
"Is that the book you've been following?" Ryssa asked, arching an eyebrow as Lucas flipped it open.
"Yup, the book I've been using for my sword training," Lucas replied, his voice carrying both pride and unease. "Remember that old chest we keep in the barn? It was buried under some broken tools."
He flipped to a specific page and held it out toward Garrin. The page displayed a diagram of a peculiar training dummy, its surface etched with symbols that marked different points on the body.
"What do you think, Mr. Garrin?" Lucas asked eagerly. "This dummy's meant to mark every lethal spot on the body, I think? Doesn't that seem like a good addition to the training ground?"
Garrin leaned forward, studying the intricate design. A slow smile spread across his face. "That's... unique," he said with a chuckle. "I've never seen anything like it. It's clever, for sure. It could be useful for advanced training."
Lucas hesitated, his smile faltering slightly. "Yeah, but... there's more."
Dorian tilted his head. "More?"
Lucas nodded and turned several pages. "This book has dummies for every race—humans, tieflings, dwarves. Even ones I've never seen before. And some are labeled for highborn races—ones we've only read about in myths."
The group fell silent, their curiosity mixed with unease.
"Where did this book come from?" Ryssa muttered, her tail swishing nervously. "That's not something you'd just... find in a barn."
"I have no idea," Lucas admitted, his smile dimming. "I didn't really think much about it when I was younger. But the more I look through it... the stranger it feels."
"It's strange, alright," Garrin said, his tone steady. "But useful. We'll add whatever dummies you need, son. Your training ground will be a place where you can master those techniques—and then some."
Bogo smiled reassuringly, patting Lucas on the back. "See? Nothing to worry about. Whatever we need, we'll make it work. This training ground isn't just for you—it's for us."
Lucas nodded, though he couldn't shake the feeling that the book was more than it seemed.
As the conversation turned back to plans for the training ground, Tyrn ambled into the clearing, his arrival marked by his signature laziness. He leaned against the tree, watching them with mild curiosity.
"Looks like you've been busy," Tyrn said, yawning.
"Bogo has," Dorian replied, his voice full of admiration. He explained Bogo's idea for the training ground, the contributions of the hunters and workers, and Lucas's unique book. "It's all coming together."
Surprisingly, Tyrn straightened slightly, his usual aloofness giving way to something closer to interest. "Huh. A proper training ground, is it? Got some ideas to add, then."
The group blinked in surprise.
"You?" Ryssa said, crossing her arms. "I didn't think you cared about things like proper training grounds."
Tyrn smirked. "When you've been... well, places I've been, you pick up a thing or two. If you're making this, you'll want more than weapon dummies. Add enchanted spots for casting experiments—safe zones to practice high-level magic without leveling half the village."
"That makes sense," Bogo mused, jotting down notes on a piece of parchment.
"And," Tyrn continued, pointing lazily at Lucas, "you'll need weight training and agility tracks for sword-boy over there. A knight's no good if his legs give out running uphill."
Lucas scowled but muttered, "He's not wrong."
Ryssa tilted her head, her tail flicking in curiosity. "How do you even know all this stuff? Are you secretly some kind of master trainer or something?"
Tyrn yawned again, waving off the question. "Let's just say... when you go where I've been, knowledge comes with the territory."
As cryptic as ever, Tyrn left the group to ponder his words as he wandered off.
As the sun began to set, the clearing buzzed with energy and excitement. Bogo and Garrin discussed plans for construction, with Lucas chiming in enthusiastically about the training dummies. Ryssa offered ideas for magical training setups, while Dorian imagined ways to incorporate music into spell practice.
At the center of it all was Bogo, beaming with pride as he saw his vision coming to life.
Dorian put a hand on his shoulder, his green eyes warm. "You're amazing, you know that? This whole idea... it's incredible."
Bogo grinned. "You guys deserve it. This is my way of helping you go as far as you can. Suntails Hollow might be home, but your journeys are waiting. When that day comes, I want you to be ready."
Lucas sniffled, wiping his eyes. "Stop making me cry, you wooden genius!" he said before pulling them all into another bear hug.
Ryssa laughed, tears glimmering in her golden eyes.
The four stood together under the great oak tree, their bond unshakable as they prepared to carve their dreams into reality.