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Word from the Wise

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Word from the Wise

Qwydeon Albyr Syncath VY. 237(3 June 237)

Ashe had left the Dale of Wolves behind him. He was now in flight and heading back to his home, Threshold. He had with him the deep knowledge that would enable him to impart the location of the where the next Vallenwood would be born to Maccabeus. This paramount knowledge would be essential to saving The Goldleaf Grove and the protector, Whisper, that resided in it. Time was now of the essence.

His trip to the Dale was perhaps not the wisest choice he had made considering what was at stake. However, having been so close to the Dale and recently enlightened to the curious ways of the rugged folk through Maccabeus, he took the chance that two days more would not demand a heavy price. He hoped he was right.

Ashe soared over the forested hills of the Wildlands and once again admired the beauty of the land. With his sight he could see a great distance and in fabulous detail. The majesty of flight never ceased to inspire him.

Soon, Ashe was passing by The Tower of Zebulon, the original destination of his journey. He thought it to be ironic that his grandson, Liam, once sought his words of wisdom and was now imparting them to him. The difference was that Liam had inherited the knowledge collected from ages of beings and was the voice and hand of Mahiya. Liam was many and one at once…he was Zebulon. Thoughts of this state of being mesmerized Ashe to no end. His father, Zachary, had also become Zebulon after rediscovering the sacred Horn of Mahiya. Zachary was also instrumental in bringing the Valley back from darkness. Ashe regretted that his legacy may not be quite as polished as Liam’s or his fathers.

The moment of regret passed him by as quickly as he had passed the tower. There was no place for it now. He had other things to see to that were far more important than what could have been.

OOC: I will be continuing this thread. I figured small doses were better.

Ashe continued on his flight. From his vantage point the dust from the Wasteland of Archea could be seen. He despised what had become of that once beautiful forest. Zyxu and his army claimed it as their own many years ago and turned it into a lesion on the flesh of Mahiya. What, if any, area would be next? Ashe shuddered at the thought especially since some minions had already been seen near Threshold in the Ring of Mists and defiled the grove.

Ashe thought of the Blood Tear and his heart started pounding at the direction his mind was taking him.

Time and the landscape passed as did Ashe’s meditations and thoughts. He found comfort in the repetitive motion of his impressive silver wings. The act of flight and gliding on the mountain drafts was elegant in its simplicity. Most times he was unaware that he was even engaged in the act of flight.

It was these times of bliss that Ashe’s mind was quiet and still. His thoughts were not completely conscious and his heart was fully engaged in hearing Mahiya’s song.

Time passed.

Ashe could see the Wildland Forest thinning below him and ahead was an impressive spine of mountains. He was getting closer to Threshold. The clouds tore on the mountains peaks like thick spider web over grass. Their wispy tendrils curled and undulated in the mountain winds. Ashe dipped quickly and began his ascent to crest the tall peaks…his mind at peace.

Ashe breached the last tall peak and saw before him the dreadful Wasteland of Archea. A massive, thick, grey cloud shrouded the forlorn expanse and hide its decrepit secrets. The wasteland was once a beautiful and vibrant forest but fell victim to the life draining force of Zyxu Archeaon when he last emerged.

As he flew over the river that cascaded from the mountains, Ashe followed its path that took it into badlands. The crystal clear water gradually choked into a vile river of sludge before being enveloped by the cloud. The trees that remained on the border of the wasteland were twisted and leafless. They no longer had any capacity for life and were simply gnarled and pained versions of their former glory.

The desolate area would likely never recover. Ashe hoped beyond hope that it would. He had to believe that it would otherwise all that believed in would be for naught.

Ashe sped quickly towards Threshold with the words and insight Zebulon had given him. He didn’t have too far to go; his anticipation almost too much to bear.

Soon he was flying over the familiar farmsteads of Little Threshold. He spied the dedicated workers tending their crops and various forms of livestock grazing in the rotation fields. In his younger days he traveled far and away but in his later years he had come to know Threshold as his only steadfast home. How he now craved to sit by his hearth and enjoy the simple pleasure of his pipe.

Upon realizing that he was so close to home, Ashe became frighteningly aware of just how tired he was. Essentially he had been awake for days. Add in a flight to the Dale and back and the fatigue was nearly insurmountable. The thought of Whisper and the precious Goldleaf Trees kept him steady and driven. The blessed grove would not fall to corruption as the one that was now a The Wasteland of Archea had; Ashe would not allow it.

He flew over the Ring of Mists and lost his breath at the sight of Vallen. The tree was becoming enormous! Rainbow hued wisps tumbled down from it’s boughs showering the wolf pups in the cascade. Inspired further, Ashe sped towards Whisper as exhaustion crept over him.

Threshold was a blur. He paid no real attention to the goings on but rather, focused on the shimmering but slightly dulled golden leaves. Even in four days time the leaves appeared sicker. The defilement was waxing.

Ashe landed in a run at The Temple of Open Skies and could feel the soothing zephyr that emanated from the sacred place. He was racing against his fatigue and time.

Ahead he saw his long time companion, Istian, who was getting up from his slumber as Ashe approached.

The great bear spoke to Ashe in his mind, in the cant no less, “My friend, the forest sister awaits you.”

“Thank you great one…thank you for watching over.” Ashe replied.

Ashe ran straight for the tree ringed with brambles. The scent of the grove was fouled to his senses. It reminded him of his flight past the decrepit lands and he became angered despite his weariness.

He stopped short before he entered the fey’s home. He had to remain calm even just to help ease her sickness. His fingers darted with an old but familiar twitch. Ashe closed his eyes and breathed…deeply. Regaining his sensibilities Ashe walked into Whispers home.


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