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**Chapter 14: Shaping the Cradle**
With the atmosphere gradually stabilizing, Aris turned his focus back to the landmasses—the bones of Aethel, the continents that would one day cradle life. This task called for both geological precision and a dash of artistic vision.
"Alright, continents," Aris resonated, feeling the tectonic plates shift and settle beneath his awareness. "Let's go with 'epic,' but not 'supercontinent-that-strangles-all-life' epic. We need variety—dramatic coastlines, a few scattered archipelagos… and maybe a giant, heart-shaped island? Why not? It's my planet—I'm allowed a little whimsy."
He accessed the Genesis System's geological sculpting tools. It was like operating a planet-sized 3D printer—if that printer worked through controlled tectonic fury and molten upheaval. The interface allowed him to guide plate movements, sculpt mountain ranges, and model erosion across millennia in moments.
"Let's start with a few major landmasses," he murmured, shaping continental outlines in his mind. "Something balanced. Mountains for majesty, plains for breath, rivers to tie everything together… and coastlines. Gotta have some good coastlines."
With gentle precision, he nudged the tectonic plates, guiding their slow dance across Aethel's surface. Where plates collided, mountain ranges surged skyward—rugged, snow-capped spines across the land. Where they drifted apart, deep rift valleys and chasms formed, hinting at the promise of oceans and inland seas.
"A little more uplift here," Aris thought, raising a section of crust like a sculptor coaxing shape from stone. "Smooth out this jagged edge… and let's etch a winding river system through this basin. Perfect for… well, whatever life decides to evolve here."
He experimented with different shapes and sizes—some continents sprawling and majestic, others fragmented and wild. He considered how each shape would influence climate, ocean currents, and resource distribution.
"Hmm, too symmetrical," he muttered, frowning at one landmass. He reshaped it into a more natural form. "We're going for organic and chaotic—not like it was designed by a committee of cosmic bureaucrats. No offense, Kalas… if you even have committees."
Aris scattered archipelagos across Aethel's oceans—chains of islands rising like stepping stones for future migrations. He imagined volcanic islands bursting forth, rich with fertile soil and cloaked in lush, emerald vegetation.
And then came the pièce de résistance.
With a touch of mischievous pride, Aris sculpted a large island in the middle of a vast ocean—shaped like a perfect heart.
"There," he said, a grin in his voice. "A symbol of… something. Love, life, potential? Or maybe it's just because I can. I hope the Kalas appreciate my more sentimental design choices."
But Aris wasn't just shaping aesthetics. He paid close attention to how the continents interacted. Ocean currents swirled between them, distributing warmth and nutrients. Wind patterns flowed across the globe, carrying moisture and weather across biomes. He ensured that no continent was isolated—that Aethel would be a world of connection, not separation.
"Everything has to flow," he murmured. "A well-connected planet is a healthy one. And a healthy planet… is a happy planet. And a happy planet—well, you get the idea."
As the landmasses settled into their final forms and the oceans embraced them, Aethel began to resemble more than a planet. It was becoming a world. A cradle. A canvas steadily transforming into a living masterpiece.
And Aris, the sculptor of realms, felt the growing anticipation of what would come next.
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