Jude Barion's Arc

Chapter 3 of 8

Jude stood at the edge of his work site and gazed across the wetlands. The torch burned steady behind him. The pump hummed as it pulled water from the earth. His tool shed held everything he needed to start building. But one thing still puzzled him—where did the witch get her power? He needed a way to draw people here. A marker that would announce his success before the town even existed. Jude pulled a thick oak post from his wagon and carried it to the driest patch of ground. He hammered it deep until it wouldn't budge. From his supplies, he unwrapped a bronze plaque—polished and heavy in his hands. Words were etched into the metal, spelling out his vision for this place. He mounted it to the post and stepped back. Around the base, wildflowers pushed through the soil, bright and alive. This marker would greet every visitor who came. The work energized him. Jude spent the afternoon gathering smooth stones from the water's edge. He stacked them carefully, one atop another, until they formed a balanced cairn. At the very top, he placed a brass compass that gleamed in the fading light. The marker stood tall enough to catch a traveler's eye from the road. Anyone passing through would see it and follow the path to his growing operation. More markers meant more eyes. More eyes meant more settlers. His hands ached as the sun dipped toward the treeline. Jude walked back to his wagon and found the last piece—a detailed sculpture he'd commissioned weeks ago. It showed a contractor mid-work, face twisted in frustration, every crease and worry line carved with precision. He positioned it near his tool shed where future workers would gather. Let them see what this land demanded from a man. Let them understand that building something great required more than dreams. The wetlands stretched dark and quiet before him, but Jude saw streets and commerce where others saw only mud. Tomorrow he'd start clearing trees. The witch would hear every swing of his axe.