Argolaith leaned over his table, charcoal-stained fingers hovering above an untouched page.
Dozens of sketches were already scattered across the surface—half-formed swords, broken concepts, abandoned ideas.
Nothing felt right.
He didn't want a blade meant to kill.
Not anymore.
Not in Elyrion.
He flipped the page and stared at the blank space.
The heartstone sat quietly nearby, pulsing its slow rhythm like it was waiting too.
He sighed and pushed away from the table.
Outside, the frogs chirped under the soft light of Elyrion's twin stars.
Some of them had climbed into a basin of water and were lazily swimming in circles.
Others napped beneath the flowers that only bloomed at night.
Argolaith walked barefoot across the grass, letting the cool earth ground him.
He sat by the lake, resting his elbows on his knees and letting silence settle into his bones.
The frogs paid him no mind.
They were content in their simplicity.
