When Arin opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was pain—sharp, dull, everywhere.

  He groaned and blinked at the wooden floorboards beneath his cheek.

  “…Oh. Right. I did fall asleep on the ground.”

  Not exactly his proudest moment. He pushed himself upright with a wince.

  “I really need to keep a closer eye on my stamina… This is getting ridiculous.”

  The workshop was dim, lit only by early sunlight pushing through the shutters. His gaze drifted to the long container on the workbench. Thankfully, the bowstring was still soaking properly. The added sap from the Twilight Yew leaves seemed to be breathing faint pulses of mana into the mixture—the entire thing glowing faintly, as if alive.

  Once he confirmed it was stable, he turned to the true prize: the Twilight Yew branch laid neatly across the table.

  Perfect length for a longbow.

  “…But that’s not what I need,” Arin murmured, though it almost physically hurt him to admit it. “A longbow would be beautiful… but I need something useful in all kinds of situations.”

  A recurve bow. More versatile. More compact. Harder to craft.

  He exhaled sharply. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  For hours, the workshop was filled with the sounds of shaving, cutting, sanding—wood dust floating in the air like fine red mist. He cut the living branch into the required pieces, shaping the limbs carefully, binding them back together with both glue and mana-rich leaf sap.

  Finally came the last step.

  Arin pressed his hand to the wood and let his mana flow through it, encouraging the Twilight Yew’s natural energy to harmonize with the shape of the bow. The limbs shimmered faintly, as though absorbing his exhaustion along with the mana.

  He was still kneeling there, breathing hard, when—

  “Arin? Are you in there?”

  His brother’s voice carried from outside.

  “Yeah… I’m here,” Arin answered weakly. “What’s wrong?”

  Jonhy pushed open the door—and immediately froze.

  “Good gods—what happened to you?!”

  Arin blinked at him, confused. Jonhy stared at his brother’s bloodshot eyes, hollow cheeks, and trembling posture. He looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in days.

  Meanwhile, beside him on the table lay a bow so striking it was almost eerie: dark crimson mixed with deep brown, as though carved from wood dipped in sunset-colored blood.

  “What do you mean?” Arin asked faintly. “I made an amazing bow. I just need to put the string on, and it’ll be done.”

  He staggered toward the finished bowstring—now tinted the same living red as the bow, shining with quiet magic.

  “Can you help me string it? I… don’t have the strength right now. Which is weird.”

  Jonhy sighed. “All right. But only if you promise to sleep after this.”

  “No problem… please.”

  Together, they strung the bow—surprisingly difficult, the wood resisting until the final moment. As the string snapped perfectly into place—

  “YES!” Arin yelled, suddenly bursting with life. “I DID IT! Look!”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  He shared the description with Jonhy, the window of text appearing before them.

  Twilight Yew Recurve Bow (Uncommon)

  Carved from a living branch of the Twilight Yew, the bow carries a quiet, steady pulse of ambient mana beneath its crimson-grained surface. The wood bends with an organic grace, adjusting subtly to its wielder’s grip as if recognizing their presence. Even at rest, faint violet light lingers along the inner curve of the limbs, like dusk clinging to the horizon.

  When drawn, it emits a soft, whisper-like rustle—an echo of the tree’s natural mana circulation—that makes the nearby air shimmer for a heartbeat.

  Arrows loosed from it glide straighter than expected, led by gentle tremors of mana that subtly correct their path.

  Jonhy barely had time to finish reading before—

  THUD.

  Arin collapsed face-first onto the floor.

  “…Yeah. That’s not healthy,” Jonhy muttered, leaning over his unconscious brother. “Uncle Dennis is going to have to see this.”

  He scooped Arin up, careful not to jostle the glowing bow still clutched in Arin’s arms. As he carried him toward the lodge, Jonhy remembered—this wasn’t even the first time something like this had happened.

  Once, years ago, Arin had hidden in the woods just to finish a book their mother had threatened to confiscate. They found him two days later, passed out from sleep deprivation in the crown of a tree, completely unreachable unless one knew exactly where to look.

  Arin… was consistent, at least.

  As Jonhy approached the lodge, he saw his mother pacing outside like a frantic hen missing her chick. His father stood stiffly beside her, one ear suspiciously red.

  “There he is!” his mother, Avela, snapped the moment she saw him. “Jonhy! Where did you find him, and what did that idiot do?! He’s been gone three days—he shouldn’t look like this!”

  “H-He just made a bow, Mom,” Jonhy said quickly, sharing the item description with the gathered family.

  Even Avela paused, impressed despite her panic.

  “Now, now, Avela,” his father said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s get Arin to bed. I’ll fetch my brother.”

  Then he turned to Jonhy.

  “And you—go get your grandfather too.”

  Jonhy blinked. “I get Uncle Dennis, sure, but… Grandpa? Why?”

  His father cast a meaningful look at the bow in Arin’s arms.

  And Jonhy remembered.

  Just like there were gun nuts on Earth…

  Their father and grandfather were bow nuts.

  Extreme ones.

  And Arin had just crafted a masterpiece.

  “All right,” Jonhy sighed. “I’ll get him. But first, I have to get Grandma's permission. You know how she is.” know after Arin went there last time. What did he do?

  His father smirked. “Arin didn’t do anything. He just asked Grandma for some of Grandpa’s plants.”

  “…Oh,” Jonhy said, looking confused. “Right. That explains it.”

  “Go on,” his father waved. “And invite Grandma too.”

  Jonhy nodded and hurried off.