We are legends every day

Rice lay sprawled on the grass, his hands folded behind his head as he stared up at the endless expanse of the sky. Wispy clouds drifted lazily above, their shapes shifting in the gentle breeze. He sighed contentedly. "Man, this sky never gets old."

Nearby, Ryden sat cross-legged on a flat rock, his hands working skillfully with his chisel and mallet. The beginnings of a magnificent lion statue were taking shape under his touch, its features both regal and fierce. Sitting beside him, Lucy watched in awe, her wide eyes tracking every stroke of the chisel.

"You're so good at this," she said, her voice soft with admiration.

Ryden glanced at her with a warm smile. "It just takes practice. And a lot of mistakes."

As he worked, a small group of children from the surrounding tribes crept closer, their curiosity too strong to resist. Roan, the energetic child from the Iron Fang tribe, was the first to approach. His face lit up as he pointed at the statue.

"Whoa! That's amazing!" he exclaimed, drawing the attention of the others.

They crowded around, their eyes wide as they took in the intricate details of the lion's mane and the fierce gleam in its eyes. "How do you make it look so real?" another child asked, their voice full of wonder.

Ryden chuckled, setting his tools down for a moment. "You just have to see what's inside the stone and set it free," he said, his tone playful.

Roan's eyes sparkled. "Can you teach me?"

As the children continued to admire Ryden's work, Roan darted off to play with the others, laughing as he pretended to be a mighty warrior defending the camp. His antics caught the attention of Morana, Torran's daughter, who approached with her arms crossed and an amused smirk on her face.

"Roan, you're embarrassing the Iron Fang tribe again," she teased, though the warmth in her tone betrayed her fondness for the boy.

Not far behind her, Harrik, a lanky teenager from the Cliff Walker tribe, leaned against a tree, his usual air of aloofness firmly in place. He watched the scene with a faint grin, though he quickly masked it when Rice perked up and called out to Morana.

"Morana!" Rice said, sitting up. "What are you doing here?"

Morana's smirk softened into a genuine smile. "I'm here to say goodbye."

Rice blinked in surprise. "Goodbye?"

She nodded and turned her head, gesturing toward the edge of the clearing. There, Verrick and Slynn—two familiar faces from Rice and Darius's travels—stood waving.

"We're going on an adventure," Morana said, a spark of excitement in her voice. "We want to see what the world has in store for us."

Rice broke into a grin, turning to Darius, who leaned against a nearby tree with his arms crossed. "Well, that's fantastic! But your dad said yes, right?"

Morana laughed. "It took a lot of convincing. And crying. But he finally relented."

She sat down beside Rice, her gaze thoughtful as she gestured to the bustling camp around them. "Look around you, Rice. Do you see it?"

"See what?" he asked, tilting his head.

She pointed toward the edge of the camp, where members of the Shadow Tail tribe mingled with warriors of the Iron Fang. Children from both tribes played together, their laughter rising above the hum of conversation. "See there, past those trees? The Shadow Tail tribe—we used to hate them. But now? Their children play with ours, our elders trade stories, and our warriors hunt together."

Her hand shifted to another part of the camp, where Storm Scale artisans worked alongside Ash Coil warriors to build a new shelter. "The Storm Scale tribe used to look down on everyone but themselves. Now we share freely, and no one thinks twice about it."

Morana turned to Rice, her expression soft but serious. "This didn't happen overnight. But after the battle with the Blood Talons and the Stone Hoof tribe, everything started to change. And that's because of you."

"Me?" Rice stammered, sitting up straighter. "We just taught a few things—"

She silenced him with a finger to his chest. "You and your friends are the reason we haven't devolved into fighting each other. You taught us to think, to wonder about what could be instead of what is. You're the reason I can leave my tribe knowing they'll be safe."

Rice scratched the back of his head. "Sheesh… No pressure, right?"

Morana smiled, standing and gesturing to the camp once more. "Take care of them, Rice. All of them."

As she walked away to join Verrick and Slynn, disappearing into the golden expanse of the plains, Rice lay back down on the grass, his gaze drifting skyward. "Take care of all of them, huh," he murmured to himself.

Darius, watching the exchange with a fond smile, turned his attention to a group of children pretending to swordfight with sticks. An idea struck him, and he grabbed a few sturdy branches from the tree he was leaning against.

He pulled out a small carving knife—one he had forged from the newly discovered iron—and began to whittle the wood into crude practice swords. When he was finished, he tossed one to Ryden.

Ryden caught it with a grin, setting aside his chisel. "On guard!" he declared, brandishing the wooden sword theatrically.

Darius laughed, his deep voice echoing through the clearing. "You're on."

The two engaged in a mock battle, their swords clashing as the children cheered them on. Darius's strength and skill won out, and Ryden sat back, laughing in defeat.

Rice rolled onto his feet, grabbing the spare sword. "Alright, my turn," he said, squaring off against Darius. "We do need to work on our swordsmanship, after all."

The duel began, and though Darius seemed poised to win again, Rice stumbled at just the right moment, dodging a swing and landing a lucky hit on Darius's side.

"Did I… win?" Rice asked, staring at his hands in disbelief.

Darius, his face slightly flushed, growled, "Run it back."

But Rice laughed and began backing away, grinning mischievously. "Nope! For the record, though…" He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm better."

Darius lunged, and Rice bolted, laughing as he weaved between the children, who joined the chase with gleeful shouts.

From a distance, Rynna, the chief of the Moon Step tribe, watched the scene with a furrowed brow. "These outsiders," she said quietly. "They're like children. I don't trust them."

Beside her, Lyssara of the Ash Coil tribe chuckled, her sharp eyes glinting with amusement. "I didn't trust them at first either," she admitted, "a group of outsiders, wanting us to fight for their battles, i let them stay because we all had a grudge against the blood talon tribe" her gaze lingering on Darius as he tossed another wooden sword to a child. "But give them time. You'll realize that whatever their goals are it involves helping us."

Rynna crossed her arms but said nothing, her gaze returning to the trio as

Lyssara's smile widened. "Just wait," she said, turning back to the camp