Novel & Cerita Arven Pokemon Fanart

"Are you okay?" asked Ara while examining Aranjo's entire body. "Yes!" replied Aranjo. Then she got up from her bed and sat down on the bed. "When and how did you come back?" asked Ara. "I don't know! Ah ... maybe thanks to the help of my new friends!" Aranjo continued excitedly. "Friends?" asks Ara, unsure of what she heard. "Little bird and demon with gray-colored hair!" Ara explained enthusiastically. After listening to what Aranjo said, Ara believes the child is dreaming. There was no living creature in the mist forest and there was not a single creature in the sky realm with gray hair other than the Emperor.

Arte pursed her lips, eyes gazing at Raven, who sat eating like a well-oiled machine. After dinner, Raven did as she said she would, and everyone went to do their own thing. Arte followed Ayame to do an Alchemy lesson, which went swimmingly. Aside from the fact that her nose was tingling with disgust at the smell of the ponticus vine. It was a rancid smell, something that would stick with you for years to come and invade your dreams, turning them into nightmares.

ADAM’S POV Aria finally finishes the painting, and when she hands it to me, my heart skips a beat. I’m eager yet apprehensive, curious about the piece she has created for me. The moment I see it, a wave of emotion crashes over me. The painting depicts a breathtaking sunset, vibrant hues of orange, pink, and gold blending seamlessly in the sky over a serene body of water. The scene is unfamiliar to me, a place I’ve never been before. “Where’s this place?”

Sparks shoot into the air like dying stars. Arven stands over the anvil, exactly where I expect him to be, his hammer rising and falling in a brutal rhythm. Sweat runs down his temple, disappearing into soot-streaked skin and the rolled sleeves of his shirt. He looks like a man who has spent his entire life arguing with iron—and winning. Clang. Clang. Clang. The air smells of iron, ash, and old magic. He doesn’t look up at first. “Whatever it is, come back tomorrow,” he mutters without turning. “I’m finishing an order for the western warriors—unless you want a sword shaped like a spoon.”