My skin drinks in the morning sun; warmth seeps through me in slow waves, a gentle heat that almost feels like renewal. Strange, considering I tasted death only yesterday.

I let my shoulders loosen as I settle beneath the tree's shade, breath leaving me in a long, heavy sigh. The air is calm, grass whispers against the wind, and for once the world doesn't feel like it wants to tear me apart. Tranquility wraps itself around me. Maybe, just maybe, this endless blue sky will stitch me back together.

"Quill! Look what I caught!"

And there goes my peace... I roll my eyes and press a practiced smile onto my lips. Roxy comes striding into view, her hips moving side to side with a rhythm too deliberate to be casual. Not a vulture, no… more like a temptress, the kind who could turn kingdoms into battlefields with a single glance. Yes, that's better.

My eyes catch on the small creature squirming in her grip. At first, it looks like a frog… though, wait... are there even frogs in this forest? I tilt my head and ask,

"What have you got there?"

That grin of hers never means anything good. I swear.

A sharp gleam flickers in her pink eyes, and I almost curse under my breath. My words make her shoulders perk up, as if she's about to launch into the grandest tale she's ever told. Fine then. Let's hear it.

"It's an iron frog! Do you know how lucky you have to be to catch one?!"

A shiver runs across my skin as her warmth presses in beside me, the scent of flowers in her hair quickening my pulse. It's hard to explain, but seeing that bright, unguarded smile as she cradles this ridiculous little creature feels… calming. Even the leaves above seem to move in rhythm with it, swaying gently in the breeze.

I'm lucky to have you around…

"I've never seen such an ugly creature before. Let's cook it!" A teasing laugh slips out, and Roxy's hands fly up to shield the frog, clutching it close to her face like a treasure. The creature's beady black eyes glare back at me, sharp as daggers, as if it actually understood every word.

"Are you insane? Who would eat such a cute, innocent thing?!" Her cheeks puff up, lips pressed tight in a little pout as she glares at me over the frog's head.

Is it just me, or is it getting cold? My body hair bristles, a thin mist brushing against my thigh before curling up my torso, slithering all the way to my chin.

"Why are you bullying Sister Roxy, Quill?"

The wind itself seems to hold its breath as a cold hand grazes my lips. Amara's face slides into view, flawless and far too close; our noses almost touch.

"If you have time to laze around, how about you craft that secret gift you promised us last night?" Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. Even knowing she loves me, there's a weight in it that makes death itself feel like the safer option. Wait... she is death...

So… I'm going to run now.

My body twists free, slipping out of Amara's suffocating embrace.

"Right… ahem… Roxy, Amara… I'll just take my leave then. We can talk about cooking the frog later." One last joke won't kill me. Ow—!

Something whistles past the wind and smacks my forehead. I glance down. A pinecone. Whoever threw it is close—who dares?!

"Sisters, I think we need to teach our good-for-nothing husband a lesson. What do you say?"

A shiver races down my spine as Anna's voice cuts through the air. Another pinecone flies, slamming into my stomach.

"What for?! Ow! Stop!"

Their laughter rings out, the three of them ganging up on me, pelting me like it's sport. It should be the other way around! When did I lose control over them?! Not fair!

A barrage rains from every direction, and I raise my arms in a hopeless defense. "Fine, fine! I'll have my revenge!" I bolt from the scene, fleeing while their laughter follows me. Anna… she was a mistake. A walking disaster. Damn witch.

I slip into the deeper forest, certain no one follows. Anna and Amara have already glimpsed what I can do, but Roxy and Powder… no. They wouldn't grasp the scale of it. Not yet.

The shadows here breathe with me, cool and restless, pulling tighter as if the forest itself shelters my secret. I raise my quill and press the tip against the air.

{Create an opening in the tree for me to hide in. Seal it so no aura escapes. The space inside should be at least ten cubic meters.}

The tree shudders. Its bark ripples like water, veins of green light running across the trunk as though sap itself stirs awake. Fibers twist and peel apart, revealing an entrance that widens with a groan, wood bending back like a jaw unhinging.

I step through, and the world folds. Roots thrum under my feet like veins of a heart, and the bark stretches outward until the chamber swells around me. The room breathes: walls pulsing faintly, sunlight bleeding through false windows that sway with branches outside. It feels real, alive, a living dimension carved from the marrow of the tree.

Awe prickles at me. Could I take this further? Build a world entire, not just a room? The thought is dangerous, but it lingers. If I ever ruin this place, if I destroy this world by mistake, could I just… grow another?

I shake it off. For now, my imagination races with sketches of armor, flashing across my mind like living drawings, shifting until one holds. Yes… This design will fit Powder. A smile creeps across my lips as I press the quill into the air, each stroke deliberate, carving creation itself.

The air thickens, the tree's heart pounding with mine. One stroke, one curve, one final press, and the first true armor of my making will step out of legend.

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