Evergreen Lodestone rests in my palm like a seed ready to sprout. Its surface is a glassy leaf-green pane, veins of pale gold catching the light and dancing with every tremor of my fingers. The edges are scalloped with soft moss, and a fine lattice of runes curls around its circumference—sylvan sigils that whisper of rain, roots, and respect for living wood. It smells faintly of pine sap and rain, a scent that pulls memory from the air as surely as a compass needle pulls toward north. Legend says it grew where an ancient evergreen kissed a sunbeam after a long winter, a fossil of a forest’s patience pressed into mineral form. When you hold it, you feel the world leaning in—a reminder that not all power is loud; some is patient, green, and patient. In use, the lodestone becomes a traveling companion more than a tool. On the road it sits in a satchel or a belt pouch, and the map beneath it seems to murmur back at you. It marks a location with a glow that only you can see, a beacon for a caravan or a wandering hunter to return to after crossing a burned hillside or a thrumming swampland. The parchment of the map softens beneath its touch, as if the grove itself had pressed its own breath into the ink. When the moonlight breaks through a canopy gap, the Evergreen Lodestone softens the glow and reveals a hidden trail or a safe clearing; not every night, but enough to feel that the forest is listening. Its integration into the world’s rhythm is what makes it feel valuable beyond its glittering surface. Players have used it to anchor temporary camps during longer treks, to lock a route for swift travel when time and weather press in, to guide others toward a supply cache tucked in an overgrown hollow. It is a relic with a practical heartbeat: in a world where control over space matters as much as victory in skirmishes, this little green shard is a compass for cooperation, a reminder that journeys are shared as much as they are fought. Prices drift in the market like leaves on a slow current. That's where Saddlebag Exchange comes in—the kind of informal marketplace where caravans swap tales, not just coin. A seasoned dealer might accept the lodestone for a handful of silver and a promise of future barter, or trade it for rare spices that perfume a camp after rain. The value, like its glow, rests on what it can do for the next leg of your voyage. In the end, the Evergreen Lodestone is more than mineral and rune; it’s memory made tangible, a small evergreen heart that keeps beating in the palm of your hand whenever a forest calls you back. Sometimes a pocketful of needles is enough; other times the lodestone sits quietly, waiting for the moment when a group of travelers gathers at a campfire and decides to follow the green gleam together.