“It’s agreed then. Let us break until surarise, at which time we will assemble the team traveling to Nyahna. As discussed, this is not to be spoken of outside these chambers.” Ardoren clapped his hands to signal the end of the action committee.

Shei rose from the stump on which she was sitting throughout the day. As she stood, aches in the back of her legs protested against her movement. In only the time it took to approach her guardian, her legs felt normal. At least as normal as anything feels after two days without sleep. “Come, friend. I will show you to my quarters. Do you need anything?”

Qfove chirped, “Water. Lots of it. Perhaps some meat as well?”

Shei nodded in an understanding way. “Good idea. I will have that delivered to my room. I mean no offense, but I don’t want to attract too much attention to you by going into the Trade Quarter.”

“I understand. It is quite similar to the reasoning behind why Myrics are not allowed within the walls of Annayl. We are soldiers; fighting without questioning neither the authority of our leadership nor the position of the civilians. Unlike this place, soldiers do not exist among the citizens. There are no guards, even for the King. The city walls themselves keep order. Everything has its place.”

Everything has its place, Shei echoed the statement in her mind. The Fah were connected in many ways, yet segregated in other ways. The Diplomat and her guardian began walking toward the massive doors that divided the Dictorium from the rest of the Nymphallatess. “Why is it that the Myrics exist apart from the civilian base? It is my opinion that soldiers should experience that for which they fight to protect.”

“This concept is outside of my understanding, Hee. Briars do not become flowers when there is no danger present. While the forest has flowering plants, it also has trees and thorned plants. Each is suited to exist as it does and does not wish to become something it is not. While this is the case, the Fah have a wider spectrum of things they may do in terms of choosing a profession. Outside of that, a warrior is always a warrior and a civilian is always a civilian.” As Qfove finished her statement, the two turned a corner and came to a long flight of stairs that lead to the living quarters belonging to the nobles of the Nymphallatess.

Shei supposed that the information she had learned previously was wrong or misguided in some way. “This is interesting to me. Do not all the chosen Fah females gather around Annayl during each Aunnei’s Growing Season?”

“Only for the Fah of Annayl. The Myrics also have their birthrights, in accordance with the Innoktic Code. While the Fah with whom you are familiar are plowing the Ambering around Annayl’s base, the Myrics hunt carnivorous beasts and harvest the blood. When the Innoktic Priests of Annayl produce the pollen to fall into the Ambering, those of The Blood Channel stand on the highest level of the Champion’s Circle and release their pollen onto the Princesses of each hive, who are fighting in the pool of blood below.”

They were just outside of Shei’s quarters then. “When you first spoke to me, you had mentioned your Rooted Father. How does that work if the dead Myrics are added to the Heroes Chamber of each hive’s respective hall?”

“Your question is one only an adept would ask. After a day of fighting in the Champion’s Circle, the princess will circulate though her respective Chamber of Heroes. It is there that each hero would choose a sapling. While the form of each Myric is maintained even after death, the Rooted Father can still reach out beyond the boundaries of his body.” Qfove’s chirping of the story attracted the attention of some noble Nymphs in their chambers. As the nosiest of them peered out of slightly cracked doors, Shei and Qfove entered her quarters.

Like most of the quarters on this level, Shei’s was relatively large and very nicely decorated. The floors were polished greenwood, which was particularly sought after because of the bright yellows, greens and light blues that ran naturally through the heartwood. Lining the tan, wooden walls of the main room were furnishings that matched the floor. In the center of this room was a large, glass tube that sunk into a beautifully carved stone pillar that was a quarter of Shei’s height. Inside that tube, which reached nearly as high as the ceiling itself, was a small habitat in which hakiri flies lived. Not only were these insects particularly useful because of their ability to illuminate their environment, but they also lived an exceptionally long time. As the two preceded near the hakiri lamp, another room that was separated from the main one by only an oval-shaped ornate frame, came into view to their left. Inside that room was Shei’s bedding, clothing storage, mirror and other more personal effects. To their right was a deep, sienna colored table with eight cushioned, backless chairs tucked beneath it.

Shei was astounded at the level of organization the Fah’Voy Ra had as a whole. “Thank you for sharing that with me. You are correct in noting that my understanding of the Fah is somewhat biased, as I did spend the first part of my life amongst those in Annayl. So the little pink saplings in Annayl aren’t Myrics? They are just hunters?”

“Precisely.” Qfove nodded once, sharply, to emphasize the correctness of her companion’s observation.

“I will have much to consider en route to the Trade Quarter. I hope that you don’t get bored here while I’m gone.” Shei opened the door again, but politely waited for Qfove to respond.

“While the Sura is still out, I will try to get some light at your window. My reserves feel low. Do not worry about me. I am satisfied to have the time to meditate as you return.” The Myric fidgeted with the slightly convex Warfyle eyecap that made up the window’s pane on the wall opposite the door and finally got it open.

“Your water and meat will be here soon, but I have one more errand to which I must tend before retiring. The courier will knock when the delivery is made.” At that, Shei closed the door behind her and began her journey to the Trade Quarter. What she had just learned about Qfove’s tribe had her considering the order of things. In the Diplomat’s initial opinion, the difference between Annayl and the Blood Channel was the difference between civilization and savagery. But was it really that simple to classify? Did the rules of the natural world apply to all beings on Logos-Anima? If taken to the extreme, her protector’s description of a being’s spectrum of choice could easily justify that any action it takes has only the will to survive back of it. Every thought, conversation, piece of clothing purchased and sport played would only be manifestations of self preservation. In that line of thinking, was there really a choice at all? Were all the races simply following an invisible set of rules?

As examples of lore and history passed through Shei’s mind to be examined, she justified that each could mean just that. The folly of the Blackforest War, in which the early Tyrod Herding hid their strongest at Tyrion’s Alter. The will of the gods at that time to balance the population of the people living in Mynereth. The formation of the Nymph race. The importance of spiritual living to all the beings that Shei could consider. The Dragons’ unfolding plan. All easily simplified into the mere act of survival, given enough thought.

What could be said against this idea? Was not there a more advanced plan nor the ability to transcend into an act higher than preserving the mortal self against that which threatens it? In any competition in which any two beings are both fighting for their lives or values, both are filled with the will to triumph over the other as well as the belief that they were meant to win. This reaction, at the offset of one of the most unique instances of any being’s life, is not anything presumably read from an invisibly transcribed set of predetermined events. It’s the will to survive that is cheering for its bearer; telling the physical and reasoning form exactly what it needs to hear to feel empowered during the fulfillment of the task.

Shei walked expeditiously down the Hall of the Nobles toward the main part of the city. The hardened soles of the boots that the guards wore, echoed in this hall as the heel-toe of their solitary marches progressed. There weren’t many High Nymphs in the hall today, but she could see the Trade Quarter bustling ahead. Her first stop was to get provisions for Qfove. Stepping off of the stone walkway that served as the border between the commons and the noble areas, the Diplomat saw the type of vendor for which she was searching. It only cost a little extra for a delivery and a little more time to acquire an escort to the doorway of the recipient. The water would take a few moments to be collected in the tub, but the meat was already prepared. Confident that the merchant could handle the rest, Shei wrote her authorization to be given to the guard and paid for the goods. Now on to the only matter left to which she had to attend.

Before the girl even had a chance to locate a guard, she noticed a tall, robed figure that towered over the Nymph to which it was talking. It had to be him beneath the fashionable black, grey and yellow robes. As she approached the figure, Shei noticed several shell boxes in his arms. Surely enough, the Nymphallatess’ most creative Nymph was the focus of the robed figure. Three boxes and one set of magnificent robes on his back- Pahkah went from rags to riches in a few short days. How did he do that?

Shei reached out and touched the figure’s shoulder. The hood revealed the face of her friend as he turned toward the touch. “Hello, Pahkah!” She flitted her fingers by her side as she welcomed him.

A smile stretched nearly the width of the man’s face. “Welcome back, Shei. I trust that you are well? I’ve missed you.”

“That is good to know! Will you join me when your business is finished with Azorob? I’ll tell you everything then.” Shei knew her face showed her tiredness as she attempted a cordial smile, but she didn’t feel the need to explain.

Azorob answered. “My dark friend, please! Go with her and catch up before she faints, would you? Shei Rhessi, do you still have that dress I made for you?”

As she flitted her fingers in response, the memory of what happened to the dress he mentioned came to her in a flash. It was worn during the fight with the Di’Fet. “It needs a little cleaning and a few repairs… Can I send it to you to mend while I am away on diplomatic errands?”

The designer’s smile was massive and sincere. “Certainly! Now go! I’ll be here when you return.” He flitted his wings as he playfully shooed the two off.

Paca lowered his hood to his shoulders. “You seem very tired. Did you not sleep while you were away?”

Her head tilted as her shoulders shrugged. “Not very much. I’m not even sure where to begin, so let’s start with you. Tell me of your journeys as a free man!”

“There is not very much to tell. I went before Ardoren and his courts and they gave me citizenship with one small condition…”

It was then that Shei noticed the Apranis Guardian flying around him. “I’ve never seen one of those attached to a person before. How are you adjusting with that thing near you all the time?”

Paca plucked it out of the air between his gentle fingers and cradled it in his cupped hands. “It’s not even that noticeable in public, but I like to study it when I am in my quarters. In other news, I’m working with Voy’Brakken now. Learning the Nymph healing arts.” He released the insect back into the air theatrically, as though it were magic.

“So that’s how you came across all of your fine wares. That wardrobe of yours must have cost a bag of Dracotha! I hope I get to see them soon; Azorob makes the best clothing in the land.” Shei almost felt rested at this moment. The crowd of Nymphs around them was thick. In preparation for surafall, some merchants were placing new candles in the metal dishes that were mounted to the surashade trees. The light that managed to pass through the canopy above was fading here in the quarter, though much of the life that existed above would have ample light by which they could see for a while.

“Actually, only half. You just confirmed that I truly got more than what I paid for. Actually, Voy’Brakken quite generously gave me a sack of the black stones for not wasting his time.” Paca patted the sack that was hidden within the folds of his clothing. “Now. Your turn. What happened while you were away?”

Shei hung her head a little; worried that Pahkah would overreact to the danger in which she found herself. “I was in a battle against some Fah that threatened the main city. There’s more, but I cannot tell you here.”

“I’m glad to see that you have returned with your health. You will have to tell me of the battle when you can… as well as this other secret you’re carrying with you.” The Mayan turned his head to see his companion a little better.

“I must introduce you to someone. Come with me to the Noble Hall. We’ll talk more there.” Shei was partially excited to see Pahkah’s reaction to the Fah. As far as she knew, this would be the first time he would meet one. Of course, there was that tiny thread of concern that he would be frightened of Qfove, but the notion that he was still new to the planet extinguished it immediately. To Pahkah, everything looked strange to him.

On the way, Shei described the battle in length and then of the pact that she and her new guardian had made. It wasn’t until the two got to the stairs that the Diplomat began to allude to the measures the defensive camps were making to find out more of the Fah Di’Fet and the idea that they were involved in something much bigger than the Sefspar Peninsula. Pahkah looked more nervous about the prospect of meeting another race outside of Nymphkind than about any conspiracy that may threaten the livelihood of anyone living on this side of Logos-Anima.

Shei’s hand was on the door’s lever, waiting to push it down. “Are you ready?”

If Paca was nervous before, he was petrified now. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Then, the prospect of meeting yet another race that was alien to him was not so bad; as he remembered this Fah’Voy Ra’s host was his dearest friend on the planet. A wave of calm washed over him as the door swung open. Shei went in first, took a peek and turned back to the Dark Man, smiling. Her hands indicated that she was ushering him inside.

As his feet curiously guided him beyond the threshold of the doorway, his eyes took immediate notice of Qfove, who was sitting in a large tub of water. Her cherry-black arms crossed over taloned calves. The gleaming metal symbol embedded into the wooden creature’s blank face was glinting back at him. The light of the luminous insects dancing about in the hakiri lamp showed the polished, smooth texture of the ‘Fah’. Despite his undefined preconceptions of what this creature was supposed to look like, it was surprisingly more human in appearance than Paca imagined. It rose within the tub, water running down its naked form in sheets, as though the water was spilling out of the wooden person’s skin.

“I have never seen your kind before,” Qfove vibrated in a high pitched chirping sound.

Under the immediate pressure of disbelief of what he just heard, Paca cracked a nervous smile. “I believe that I was supposed to say that. You’re nothing like I could have ever dreamed, Fah.” He then averted his gaze, ashamed that he was staring at the perfectly shaped and absolutely nude guardian.

Shei politely offered both of their names so that the two would begin their acquaintanceship formally. “Pahkah, this is my guardian, Qfove. She is a Myric Fah. Qfove, this is the first Human I have ever known. His name is Pahkah.” The Diplomat turned to the Mayan and noticed that he was looking at the floor to his side. “What is wrong?”

“Where I am from, it is not correct behavior to look at someone who isn’t clothed.” The Mayan was trying to be as polite as he could in saying that he was embarrassed.

Shei smiled. “Ah, the Fah don’t wear clothing. She only wears armor when going into battle. You will have to acclimate to that, unfortunately.”

“Perhaps it is I that needs to adjust, Hee. As one of a small, unknown number of Fah to leave Thokta Dell indefinitely, I may need to adapt my appearance to be more welcome amongst most races that prefer to wear clothing. I began my thoughts of this while in the Dictorium, as I may need to be present amongst many peoples who are as uncomfortable as Pahkah.”

The Myric was probably correct. Notwithstanding Shei’s recognition of this being the Fah’s way of living, the Nymphs and Graelynisse might not be so understanding. “Very well. I will have our friend, Azorob, design a robe for you. Pahkah, there may be times when this Fah will have to be unclothed to absorb sunlight. Don’t be shy if this needs to happen…”

“It is just outside of my customs. I’m not shy about it.” Paca looked at Shei with a crooked grin and then turned his attention to her guardian, who was stepping out of the bathing tub and draping a thin blanket around her shoulders.

The halfling peeked out of the doorway to the hall and called for a guard to escort Azorob back to her quarters. Closing the door behind her, she came to rest on one of the chairs at the table. “Pahkah, it is time for me to tell you the whole situation.” Once he was seated as well, Shei told the story of the battle with the Fah Di’Fet, the discussion with Sa’Kata and the pending journey to Nyahna. As she spoke, Paca listened attentively. He felt as though the timing of everything since his arrival on Logos-Anima was perfect in each situation’s orchestration, at least those in which he and everyone he knew here was involved.

Then, he wondered about how his people fit into this. Finding the first conversation he had with the Gaia of Logos-Anima unfolding, he was deeply compelled to join the campaign. “I’ve been made aware that the dragons of which you speak may also pose a danger to my tribe, Shei. It is not coincidence that your journey is happening now. Because of the chance that you may need to travel to that part of the world, I request that I come with you.”

Qfove interjected as soon as the man paused. “He has been dreaming of his people’s demise by fire. I can also see that a messenger sent by the spirit of the world was sent to him, guiding him to the location of his people. I can tell that these are his primary thoughts.”

“I can arrange for you to accompany us to Nyahna. This coming surarise, there will be a final meeting to assemble the final details of the journey to the Graelynisse. Please join us at this gathering.” Shei paused and looked around the room. “I am going to pack all that I will need for our endeavors in Nyahna. I suggest, Pahkah, that you do the same, because I would like to be on the way there as soon as we gain all permissions.”

“Very well. I will return when I have everything for which I anticipate a use.” The Dark Man rose and opened the door. “It’s good to have you here, Shei.” As he left, a guard and the designer for whom the Diplomat sent had finally arrived.

***

The bleached white gates of Nyahna required twenty Graes to push it open, even just a little, as each door was as tall as the Great White Tree of Iber. Each component that made up both panels were intricately curved into complex patterns. Though appearing to be made of one piece, the opalescent doors were fashioned by an impossible method of wood-bending by those who immediately preceded the Graelynisse.

After an almost two day sprint made by her saddled magon, Simianthil finally made it home. However, she wouldn’t arrive at the Flaelas Interior until a few more moments of riding at a slightly quickened pace. She would first pass the stone structures that housed the Graelynisse Guard, comprised of the first line of defense in the case of any attack on the city. The structures were made to bottleneck any traffic into the city so that any unauthorized entries would be caught relatively easily.

Immediately following those walls was the Civil Ring, a series of concentric circles made up of residences that formed a circular labyrinth around Flaelas’ Wall. Each intersecting road on the Civil Ring only connected to the circle just beyond it, and they were limited in number. The idea was that anyone who would need to travel to see Lyenthil’s Children would take a while in doing so. Each traveler would be seen by many citizens who would readily provoke them if they seemed to be a threat to the city. The inner three rings were designated to commerce. Any provisions that were made available to the city could be found there, buffering the residences and the Flaelas Interior.

The marketplace was very civil and often a joy to browse. The merchants here depended on their goods to sell themselves, as well as friendly conversation to reinforce the reputability of the product. There were no armories or weaponsmiths in this area, so one would not be surrounded with the sound of industry while shopping. Those professionals would be found just inside Flaelas’ Wall, tucked away between the two tall, stone circles that made up the wall.

Beyond that wall rode Simianthil, into the Flaelas Interior, where only the Children convened. A small ring of large homes surrounded the Symitower, which contained the Great White Tree of Iber. The only other notable feature of the city was under that tower: the Antechamber of Sy’Biri, which served as the place where both historically valuable treasures and the Greater Sy’Biri Stronghold were located.

Simianthil and her brother were the only Graes that could enter the Antechamber of Sy’Biri, but even they could not access the Stronghold. It had only one entrance, which was made of Ilystone. Only the Great White Tree of Iber could open the entrance to the Stronghold.

Yet Simianthil would not ride that far. Once reaching the magonstables, she stowed her mount and provided feed for it to eat; then made her way to The House of Guidance to see her younger sister, Keliba The Warfire.

Keliba and her brother, Natage, were the first Graes to successfully endure a journey to the center of the Neutral Territory. It was required of them by Iber himself, who manifested a voice from the tree when the siblings came of age and attempted to acquire their Ybur Leaves. Once there, the two worked to create the Alter of Naturisse as a meditative task. Under the intense heat of the hottest place on the planet, each constructed bricks and mortar to assemble the Alter per Iber’s instructions. Additionally, Namtak The Smoke, from the House of Myne, was sent to confirm their work upon their return. Only after he returned did leaves fall from the Tree to grant authority to the brother and sister to form the House of Guidance. That was easily longer than nine hundred aunnei ago.

During the construction of the Alter, Keliba meditated on war strategy and fighting practices. Natage recorded her meditations and, in the midst of his dutiful notes, wrote short prose about how his sister found ways to intimidate approaching sandstorms as well as swing a blade in such a way that would visibly cut gusts of wind in half. New weapons were created by Keliba’s design and the Graelynisse fighting styles were massively enhanced under her direction. Furthermore, she was the only Grae in possession of a greater military strategy than Simianthil herself. Once Natage died, only Simianthil would be found suitable enough to balance Keliba’s offensive and defensive strategies. It was for the sake of strategy that the Historian went now to seek advice from her younger sister.

As the Children required no formal request to enter any house found within the Flaelas Interior, Simianthil opened the door to the House of Guidance as soon as she approached it. Inside, Keliba and Eri The Phantom were participating in a ruthless sparring match. Both sisters were drenched with sweat and each had their fair share of bruises from the other’s wooden practice weapons. Those found on Keliba were concentrated on her shoulders, chest, neck and back; most of them being small and circular. That told Simianthil that Eri’s successful attacks were mostly stabs that were executed after evading Kaliba’s strikes. The bruises found on Eri’s barely covered body were long and dark, marking her legs, arms and back. Simianthil concluded that Eri was winning this practice match with more precise lethality. Had both been wearing armor and using real weapons, Keliba would surely have died long before this point in the match. This, of course, depended solely on when Keliba successfully landed her longsword attacks during the fight. Nevertheless, both sisters would be very sore upon surarise. The battle ended when Eri jumped out of the fighting ring to barely evade a very strong slashing attack from Keliba’s weapon. The dripping Eri noticed Simianthil first and waved a trembling hand at that sister. Keliba’s heavy breathing postponed the welcome that the Historian finally received after a few moments. “My Sister… welcome! Can I get you anything?”

Simainthil declined politely and withdrew the hood to her shoulders. Reaching back to tie her hair into a loose knot at the nape of her head, she smiled and got on to business. “The Wisewood was attacked by Toltanthis.”

“My gods,” Eri responded emphatically. “Did his campaign succeed?”

Before the Everyouth Sister finished asking her question, the Historian was already nodding matter-of-factly. “Yes. Namanae said it was a hopeless situation, though there was till a chance that those hiding in the catacombs beneath the city could sill be safe. At least from her account.”

Eri threw her wooden practice daggers at the wall to her side in a rage, but picked them up once regaining her composure. “Did Jente even see this coming? Is that not one of the outposts that serves his efforts to maintain the patrol around Mynereth?” Keliba decided to take the observer’s role as Eri naturally picked up the interrogation, yet both remained silent as Simianthil relayed her full report to her more battle-inclined sisters.

She explained as much as she could about the dummy attack at Crell, which drew Ulterzan’s forces away from their real goal. Going on to report that Ulterzan and his forces were to attack before this coming surarise, Simianthil mentioned the possible recruitment of the Wisewood dryads. Once the Keeping Sister was exhausted of facts, silence was maintained by her audience. “Keliba, does it make sense for Toltanthis to open up that side of Mynereth for other forces to make attempts at Nyahna?”

Placing her palms at her hips, she bent backward to stretch her spine. As she eased back as far as she could go, she responded. “Not at all. If the Skal’ah wanted to attack us, would it not make more sense to cross the Fidelia Sea and make their landing at Erspan Isle?” She straightened her posture, but kept her palms planted on her hips, elbows pointed back. “From there, they could travel to Blindshore en route to Tyrion with little hindrance. In fact, if they followed the Fetid Vein up to the Sora Dell Border, they could increase their chances of a hard-hitting attack greatly.”

“It sounds like you’re recalling Na’Droy’s arrival. Was that not how he managed to walk right up to the gates of Nyahna with no resistance?” The Historian felt the small sting of her age when she brought up that situation.

“Actually, yes. I remember reading that account before I came of age. Vigya, Simi… you are old!” Keliba chuckled.

“Be careful, Sister; I’m only one generation older than you are.” Simianthil placed her knuckles on her hips in an authoritative manner to accent the playful riposte.

Eri did not share the fun the other two were escalating. “This is serious! What in Di’Fet could Toltanthis be planning? It would take a well orchestrated plan to draw Ulterzan out to Crell and sack the Wisewood. Where is Jente?!” The Phantom stormed out of the house before either could answer.

Looking at the door that was just slammed shut by the youngest of Lyenthil’s Children, Keliba let a deep breath escape her lungs. “She knows something is going on. Jente… now he’s old. Being between the Wisewood and the Nyellis Ansessi Desert, he’s really pushing his vitality.” Her slow, deliberate gaze focused back at Simianthil. “I don’t know if you knew this, but Eri’s brother, Conte, has been the Forger’s understudy for quite a few aunnei now.”

“I did not know that. I thought Conte was studying under Namtak.” Simianthil sat on the edge of Keliba’s drafting table and tilted her head at the Warfire Sister in admittance of her ignorance of that situation.

“Well, that Grae has been on his deathbed for the last two aunnei. Since he’s fallen silent, Namtak really doesn’t have much more to teach Conte. Besides, the Everyouth Brother has been trying to integrate our espionage tactics into the ranger strategies for which Jente is responsible. Conte the Listener was built for subtlety, just like Eri; but I think he’s got inferiority issues because of how much better she is at it than he.” Kaliba slapped her thigh as though the slap was meant for Conte’s apparently needed discipline. “Anyways, I see nothing about the Wisewood attack as being preemptive; at least as far as there being an army of Skal’ah waiting in the Neutral Territory.”

“We need to consult Iber then. I simply cannot justify this attack as a mere act of spite.” The Historian dropped her chin and stared at her riding boots.

“Before we do that, we should probably see if Pale has intuited anything.”

***

By the time Ulterzan and his army had reached the Wisewood, night had already fallen. While he realized that they were crossing over the border that made up the land, the city itself was a while away. He had to be sure that there weren’t any scouting parties or watchmen along the way, so he employed several rangers from the ranks who followed behind and sent them out ahead of the army. Those in his command were filed two soldiers wide to reduce the tracks that they would leave behind. Though the Son of Asceve was careful to march his army in an arc that would not be found by someone traveling from Cetmana, he maintained as little risk of being discovered prematurely as possible.

The rangers were stripped of their heavy armor for a more subtle approach toward the city. The usual effect of this method of insurgency usually produced four or five bodies hidden in the grass or the shadows of a tree along the way. If the rangers got in trouble, they would act as mere thieves by banding together to overcome their targets. Only one would return and the quantity of the Graes needed for the relief would be chosen at that time.

The soldiers waited still on the flatlands until their commander gave the order. Astasia’s Belt seemed particularly bright tonight, especially as the trees in the area were sparse and far from one another. Those behind Ulterzan, Namanae and Sahzenthis were of unspeakable discipline. Closing his eyes, the Son of Asceve could hear not even a breath or chime of moving armor. Even their thoughts seem still. Not even a dragon could detect the hundreds that made up Nyahna’s Shorelight Guard in their current state of near absolute nonexistence.

Eyes still closed, the hulking Graelynisse felt a soft zephyr brush his cheeks. He could hear the tall grass moving. His breathing was shallow, but loud enough for his ears to register its occurrence. Then he felt anxiety creeping into him; steadily becoming more prominent. As though his mind had been counting the paces of his rangers subconsciously, his instincts could take no more. His hand went up and, with all of its fingertips touching the thumb, he pointed forward. Sahzenthis turned to the company and held the hand signal up in the air. They immediately crouched and started moving forward in long, silenced strides. Though some noise would be made, it would only be heard by the soldiers immediately near it.

Ulterzan, moving forward in the same manner, kept his eyes forward and his hearing focused on all that happened behind him. Soft winds blew, being louder than the occasional shuffling of grass and plate armor made by the hundreds that followed. Namanae was next to him, trying to imitate the fluid stalking of the Son of Asceve. Her long dress was soft and light, Ulterzan noticed. She might as well be wearing nothing, as not a sound came from her movements.

After a while, Sahzenthis moved to being next to his friend and commander, pointing at a dark patch of separated tall grass. Both knew that a body lay still in the shadows the thick grass created in the rift. Ulterzan motioned to Sahzenthis to move the company around it in a wide arc, which order was issued immediately.

Namanae gestured toward a hill just ahead. As quietly as she could, she whispered, “The city.”

Ulterzan raised a fist and his army came to a smooth halt. He, Namanae and Sahzenthis kept moving slowly forward toward the top of the hill. Just before reaching it, the three crawled on their stomachs in their approach. The tall grass began to adopt the orange hues of the fires that burned in the valley below. When the last of the yellow blades were separated, the destruction made itself immediately evident. Even the toughened warriors had to recoil at the site of the Wisewood.

Their vantage point was somewhat near to the location of almost every Graelynisse girl’s first kiss. The edge of the hill over which they looked inclined even higher as one traveled north from this point. At the apex, there was a tree that was romantically ‘well-kept secret’, though every pair of lovers knew about it. The view of the Wisewood was perfectly breathtaking at a particular time of night. There was a relatively small pond to the west, on the outer edge of the city, which reflected the glory of Astasia’s Belt in a breathtaking show of ripples at even the slightest breeze. The couples would stare at it, once all the lights of the Wisewood went out for the night, and become mesmerized by the gentle movement below them. Naturally, the eyes would also take in the imperceptibly moving belt. The effect felt almost like flying when the mind was given control to feel whatever it wanted.

While the city below was most beautiful at night for lovers, for almost everyone else, the Wisewood was most attractive during Shadowless. Musicians played their instruments and dancing occurred in the streets. Graes dined outside, beneath the shade of large leaves that were converted into umbras. Each detail of the city was impeccably maintained to keep its original appearance. Arc’Renne Wood, which was coloured with bright reds, pinks and blues and Veilstone, a milky white mineral, made up most of the buildings in the Wisewood. When the sura was highest in the sky, the glamorous city was naturally coveted by each eye that witnessed it. Especially from that tree.

But now, the city was in worse condition than even the least desirable parts of Crell. In fact, all that Ulterzan could see remaining intact was that tree atop the hill. Everything below was in varied states of burned wood, coal and ash. Embers burned at the corners and roofs of the buildings below, taking the last glimmers of beauty with them as they snuffed themselves out. The Inflicted walked the cobblestone paths, kicking over or burning anything that stood, as though they perceived things of beauty as worthless or grotesque.

Namanae, tired of looking at the horror that stood in the place of her cherished city, backed away from her grassy cover. Both soldiers followed. Once they reached her, she spoke in a voice just above a whisper. “You know how this makes me feel, so I will spare those details. Down this hill, moving south, You will come to land that is lower in the myne than the city itself. Almost all of the dryads live in that valley. Those that do not are easily reachable by the ones that do. You can negotiate with almost any of them.

“If instead, you choose to move away from the direction of the city, you will find a steep dropoff. Enough rope hung from the only statue you find there will allow you access to a cave that is connected to our mynei catacombs. I hope to Iber that most made it there in time.”

“I will send a scout ahead of us to check on the catacombs. We need to address our enemies below as quickly as possible… so we can best insure the safety of those who are still alive.” Ulterzan’s voice was more of a growl at this moment. “The scout will return to you and escort you to your people. I feel that you will be safest with them if they are yet undiscovered.”