Scarlet's Rainbow

Scarlet's Rainbow unfurls across the table, a pendant of living light wrapped in a crown of prismatic threads. Its surface is glass-smooth, yet when you tilt it, it seems to fracture into a dozen tiny rainbows that drift like fish through water. The texture feels cool and alive, as if the spectrum itself slept inside the artifact, awaiting awakening. The core glows with a soft pulse, a heartbeat of crimson and gold that keeps time with your own breath. Legends say it was spun from the last sunset Scarlet ever commanded, a relic captured in the aftermath of her siege on a coastal city. To hold it is to feel the world tilt a little toward color, as if defeat could be reframed as a spectrum of possibility. Whenever it is worn or swung in the light, old maps unspool in your mind—a map of hidden doors, of ambushes and alliances that only appear under the rainbow's gaze. In the stories of the scholars, Scarlet's Rainbow served as more than ornament; it was a key to perception, a way to see what others preferred to hide. Some say it bends a moment in time, letting a commander glimpse their enemies' orders before they are spoken. Others insist its colors align with the factions of Kryta, dissolving old feuds for a heartbeat and inviting cooperation for a common danger. On the field, the rainbow isn't merely decoration. Those fortunate enough to take it into battle find that it does not simply dazzle; it subtly sharpens the senses. Wielded as a trinket or carried in a character's bag, it enhances awareness of trap triggers, reveals faint illusions on the battlefield, and grants a brief surge of momentum when a fight turns against you. In the right hands, it becomes a beacon that helps comrades track retreat paths, or a signal flare that stitches a skirmish into a story of shared odds and renewed courage. Beyond combat, the Rainbow spurs questlines that hinge on deciphering old sigils, unlocking secret routes, and trading rumors with contacts who barter in light itself. At Saddlebag Exchange, where relics drift between buyers and tinkerers, the price tags gleam like small rainbows themselves. A clerk with ink-stained gloves eyes Scarlet's Rainbow and speaks in hushed tones about demand, scarcity, and the lore that intensifies its glow. The ledger ticks with a price that could fund a caravan, or, if luck favors a buyer, a generous trade to secure a few hard-to-find dyes and a handful of emerald-laminate components. I watched the item change hands once, the way a wave changes the shoreline, and heard the quiet joy in the room as color met coin. The exchange's system, meticulous as a map, notes condition, provenance, and the story that travels with every relic—Scarlet's Rainbow included—so that future buyers know not just what it is, but what it has witnessed. Back out on the street, the rainbow rests on the belt like a small dawn in your pocket, ready to flash open a route in the maze of life, a reminder that even a dark plan can be braided with light.