The fair ring of ancient trees glistened at the stare of the wide-open warm fall, kissing their skin with a tangible sense of sacred life before even putting forth a hand on its branches. Within its dry barks and overgrown trunks were stories untold behind the voices of the mortals that she is craving to hear from the fool's mouth. Amongst many stars that the creators have put into the offering, one of the four brightest sibling habitants of the universe has gone beyond many understanding. With the shimmering light of the warm fall, she determined not to be in the vanguard of their casted shadow, an angle shown after the midday left its spot, and the clouds that may be brought storm are in the vicinity of its engagement.
The twain dwells in an unending group of high trees that glows vaguely like the shade of a star. She stared up high above, and there hangs plenty of strange-looking fruits that she is dying to know more about. From the beginning of her first shifting and breaking through the edge of the planes, and past by weary afternoon where the more they went by the end of the enchanted forest, the more it blooms the essence of its grandiose sorcery, the more spherical light wields on its green wands.
Glena: We are near the end of the forest, as far as I can see from the traces of this map, we are now at the Dragon's Tail. Am I wrong?
Jester: You're right, we are near the end. Tell me, what do you think lies within the ending of something? Especially at the name which we no longer hold. Were there mortals going to light up a fire under the world? or there will be someone who will shed light on it.
Glena: I do not know unless I climb up to this tree to see it myself. It will be a better choice at this time.
They stood on the foot of a great tree, bright and tranquil, the wisp-looking light flooding through the everlasting roots of its base. The warm hug of the breaking noon made the little girl covered with chilled sweat, wishing there was a still pond below to wash herself up cold. Glena looks down at the sight of her weary, lifeless feet, before making her way up to the reaching arms of the tree's body. The tree glows brightly virescent at the edges of its trunk, inviting a soothing, tingling sensation to her soul as she climbs up without the consent of the Jester.
Glena: Wait, hold on.
She touched again, up and low, tap and retrieve, up she goes, she wonders why her skin stuck without wrapping her fingers tightly into its barks and cornered branches.
Jester: It is called the Tree of Vesanor, little girl.
Glena perceived the tales of the tree, but her happiness overcame herself. She goes up and down, happily sitting upright with her back flatly lying upon the sticky barks, and her delight upon seeing and feeling a mythical tree was beyond her experience.
Glena: Vesanor, that is a good name. I wonder what Vesanor did to these trees to make them sticky.
She sat there, looking at the Jester in his mask's lining of black, noticing that it never changed its expression; still smiling, eyes were pleased with the interest in telling the lost tale of the tree. Then he started to talk, with his hands behind his back, and his shrouded face is in the queue on her too. She slowly crawls upwards, as slow as a sloth while dreaming of leaping without dying.
Jester: Before the breaking of the first fellowship of the angels and the fallen, The Demigod Vesanor was the smartest, kindest, and strongest amongst the middle hearts. He decimated the kingdoms above with his intelligence and wits of deceiving, that even the clouds separated each other, the offspring of elemental creatures had lost a spawning, and the immortals wept upon their defeat. When he died, thrown into the land below the heavens with a useless mind and a useless wing, his lover Esathrys followed and broke her oath for the ones she love. And upon landing, Vesanor's body shifted into a mist while she hugged her tight, what left remained was his seed heart that grew into the tree you're climbing on right now. But the reason why it was adherent to touch was far from my understanding.
But the reason why it was adherent to touch was far from my understanding [https://img.wattpad.com/312d702d5851fccab368ecef4476a26c28358a43/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f524a76444d4f426d4c43524541513d3d2d313331363230333730322e313734613238386239323663636664333435363136333732363732302e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
(The Tree of Vesanor in the Dragon Tail's Forest)
Glena had enough listening to his tales, then there she gathered herself higher and higher upon the crown of great branches upon the tree that radiated with dark gold. Above near the tree top, the landscape rose to meet the hiding sun for one last time, while she took mighty breaths of the country air. The forest displays a merely shy crowd of green spires gathered by nature's bitter wonders when mortals dwell on its partial mysteries. At the northeastern sight were the peaks of the gray Stone Alps with towering castles sculpted by the raindrops of eons. Turning her head into the western camp from the mist of winter was the black defense walls of Ragavar Warfield. The sight she described in a whisper; was a gaping pit behind a void of chilling darkness, home of the toughest soldiers of the south that uses iron horns upon their helms to charge whoever challenges their war path.
Glena is now at the peak of the tree, seeking below was the Jester in a still, deathly silent stare. She tried to call his name multiple times and make him join the climb with her, but the Jester stood there frozen and never spill a single word. She heard the singing of the approaching wrought of thunder above, the patch of a single cloud danced to the roars of the heavenly drums. Then suddenly again, she called the Jester to join shelter below the thicket of leaves, determined to outrun the chasing rain with him.
Jester: What have you made to fear the rain? Are you still interested in my stories? Shame that you don't have the moment to finish my statement. There are rules to follow and many dangers to beware of, I guess it is all you little girl, don't blame me if something happened to you.
The voice was low and normal, but despite her conquered height, she can hear him like he was beside her. The guesses of the child are tested, her hands grew cold, and the rear apparition she dreamed the day was real. In the other heaped branch from the thick limb of the tree, there appeared a smiling figure of a Jester, clothed in a bright ocean blue coat. A strange sight it may be for her by the wearing, but he figured out that the hair was spider-silked white and the man appears to be broader and long-legged.
Returning to her field of seeing, she was about to face below the ground to see whether the guidance was still in full form, but the red-cloaked fool that she used to be with is now beside him. He is sitting in the same manner as the little girl, mask morphed into grinning as if there is an intent of the unknowing embers of fear coursing through. Glena's body went cold with dread as the covered hands of the pointing finger made their way to the perspective of another Jester forward. The Jester in front was slim and tall, clothed in a black coat. With a hair of blue smeared with white like an ocean mirror, and unsettling wolf eyes. The woman was standing on the limb of the tree with her arms crossed below her full breast.
Jester: Afraid? There are many of me, but before was less to see. Now, here we are, we are not alone anymore, as though we never be until it is revealed.
Glena: What? What are you going to do with me?
Jester: Nothing, for the most part. You notice that our eyes were affixed to you little girl, but the eyes can be deceiving. But you? No no, a reflection of you is far more than one can imagine. Don't you forget your blade, go find it. I'm afraid the key is lost for a while, don't make us wait until your reflection is gone.
The little girl's anxiety eclipsed her thoughts, the voice staggered along the coiled rhythm of the wind, the smell feels bitter and her breath feels cold.
Jester: A companion of mine, will help you find it. The servants of the quick-witted Demigod who raised this tree for us to make a threshold have come for aid.
Female Jester: Oh, a girl now? All the boys you've recruited failed. Smart thought you got there, let us see what this girl can do...if it is much more than what I did.
A nameless dread engulfed the tip of the crown of the tree when she felt a sudden movement from its bases. The fruits of strange shape began to rise as they seemed to live. It rose like a forbidden shining moon, holding a black lousewort flower upon its stem. The peculiar dream to be at the top of the tree, the branches that appear to be a horn of four perfect alignments be shown to be a platform for the four of them. Her blood froze when the fruits drained their color and formed a mouth composed of a row of sharp teeth. The swarm of the fanged edible creatures made its limbs elongate, and they strike quickly in a sequence like a song of hungry snakes. Glena conquered her fear, knowing that the biggest in the field can cast fear upon many, and there she stands unyielding.
When she began to get exhausted from pulling up and tying down the strings of the fruits of Vesanor, she prepare herself to descend the tree. A strange moment in her sight, the fruits died away slowly as if life withers without the girl's existence.
Jester: Come back girl, those fruits were friendly creatures, I tell you. But the tales of wildness were real and it is never mentioned to be extinct.
Glena: I would never come back, I curse this damned place out of all that I damned for. I DO NOT CARE, I DON'T TRUST YOU ANYMORE!
Jester: I told you to listen to me. I told you not to go until my statement is done. And now you're blaming me. Is that how you act in front of your parents scolding you? Take it then.
As she descend, the clouds started to weep and the tree's adhesive aura slowly drowned into the lining of its roots. She prevailed on the horns of the dilemma, whatever the ground makes up to her fate, she never knows. The Jester's voice melted away by the scorching raindrops that burden the world, and her ears are known to no one. The storm breaks through the cracks that outgrow the root, dimming the dirt path ahead of her. When she landed on the wet dirt, the wild fruits and fallen leaves were soaked beneath her bare feet.
Now the trial of her nemesis has begun, fighting the blindness alone below the crying thunder drums and dancing winter mist. Glena crossed her arms around her, battling the chilling touch of the storm and the blinding crash of its tears. Getting in, getting in. thought her. She dwells in the submerging path of mud, guessing the direction by her memories while hugging herself. Northeast, Southwest, South? Her knowledge passed down like the dirt that is sinking below her feet. From the whining and roaring, she sighed heavily and continued walking. When she felt the humid border of the forest, she paused under the beaming moon that at the moment, was the only light source of the penetrating darkness.
The hissing of the wind reminded her to stay back and climb again, the means of her mindlessness brought a malediction, but she did not take the words for good. She stood still again, but this time, there came an entity that bothers her under the veil of the weather. She saw something like a range of wisps behind the sullen trees, taking her time to expound the orbs of yellow flying in the storm breeze. But when she saw the pupils, black like oil, her heart shrunk to the pit of malice and knowing that the time is too late for calls. The eyes of purple fire got large and multiplied, and the faint hissing of the air is now filled with the cold frenzied growling of the beast that came approaching.
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Glena: JESTER! JESTER! Help me!
Glena's hands were slipping in the grasp of the tree wall, hurrying as the entity of a black soul made a deep howling as it gets closer to its mark. Feeling her sides and tapping the scabbard of the gleaming sharpness, the absence of the hilt presented the fool's truthfulness as the key, as they call it, was gone. The four-legged creature of black was haired and thick like wearing a cape of thorns, gazing at her with a single eye that is radiating like a furnace fire smeared with a different color. The jackals of the sort have very large ears, and a long tail with a tip of flame that can be used as a whip; swiping the wet mud into a lump of dry coal. And the fangs, sharp as the dagger she lost, came thudding between its jaws.
And the fangs, sharp as the dagger she lost, came thudding between its jaws [https://img.wattpad.com/afebfba245a5a60f8e49a8b321f7c9457491fbed/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f33336568757a76575536623559513d3d2d313331363230333730322e313734613238346539303930386561393131353433373630373139362e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
(Aronix - also known as the Frenzied Jackals, depicted in the story)
The little girl can do nothing but lay back at the tree, frozen with fear as her tears ran down her cheek, while her scream gets louder inside her heart. Shutting her eyes tight, and gave a warning to the creatures to back away by sliding her arms forward and with an open palm. The memories of inner light answered her call; they encircled her close but did not attack, nor prowl, and the hissing became faint. The storm left to waste and the sunrise came upon the dense hill of the enchantment forest.
She opened her eyes and saw the four frenzied jackals' eyes clashed with astonishment. She felt the cold hilt in her hands again as though she cannot see it by the illuminating skylight. The moon shard dagger is as cold as ice, and the steel of starlight elongated, forming a feather-light great sword; immensely thick and sharp.
Glena: MY TURN!
The great sword has taken flight towards the light, the sound of the clashing steel and flesh is enough to break her heart. The lighting of her moon sword sparkles without the green wand of grass, all she sees was the blade of steel wandering through their flesh one by one, executing them easily with a single swing on its head. There came in a sudden blast, a burst flight of many beads when she settled her steel amongst the dark frenzies by the ground. And the beads left a clad of a varnished, tinted coil of silver embracing a beating heart (a real heart).
Jester: You used the key as a weapon to kill, little girl.
Female Jester: It is not what we planned for her to do, but the girl paid a bit of a price for her survival. The Aronixes nearly bit her, let me see.
The woman behind the fool's mask examined her arms, stirring her fingers toward Glena's cheeks and neck until her hands descended onto her legs; cleared of any damage. The weary one who bears the key wonders how they doubted their ability to shift through time and thus gained access through portals.
Female Jester: Nothing, even a scratch has dealt none. Remember to listen to your guardian, child. Don't be so hasty, read a mind, touch the walls, and seek the light before you speak.
Jester: Ohh, the amulets I see.
The fool in red knelt on the grass wands and picked up the amulet of silver besides the bloodless corpse lying on the ground. Brushing the accessory of the beast with his finger glove, gorgeous it may seem that the ripples of light came upon the steel. And at the end of the amulet was a living, beating heart. The living organ of a mortal being clutched in something that possesses beauty and cogency.
Jester: A bead of a living child, freshly killed by the Aronixes. Three of them carry an amulet with a child's heart, and the fourth one has an empty necklace. If not because of your sword, child, it would've been your heart to be worn by the last one.
Glena: What is an Aronix? and why would they wear an amulet with a child's heart?
She asked while still trembling and shaking.
Jester: The Aronix is known as the Banshee's dearest offspring, and these terrible creatures were set to hunt, looking for children that it will kill for their hearts. And when the demands of their mother were obeyed, the hearts will be used as a ritual for summoning giant remnants of skeletons that dwell in the forest, and the mountains at night. Killing everyone that disturbs their lair with its sword-sharp fingers. So, it is safe to say that we must run further south and leave this forest, while the sun is still up.
The two jesters were all glad to meet her, reminding the little girl of the cautious pack of wolves amongst Vesanor's tree. The empty sockets and the lining of the mask's art formed a smile, lunging the left leg into the other straight, hanging their arms each like a puppet, and bending one's body into a bow. They walk like guardians to meet the abundant thickets of the woods, the lady fools on the right, the hulking fool on the other. Despite their mysterious intent, Glena suddenly has put an end to the strongest, and invulnerable force of one's emotion; fear. The petrifying wretch has gone as the three Jesters with unimaginable magic abilities joined her company like a circular shield.
Jester: Allow me, little girl, to introduce to you the two members of our clan.
She was silent, thinking about the dreaded fate that could happen to her before she could even act. The eyes admire while the heart lessens its music, tracing the moon sword with her fingers that catch the dancing lightly upon the sky-blue steel. Without looking to respond from the very rear, she nodded and said.
Glena: Go on, I will listen.
Jester: This is Giavonna, the first girl to become one of us. She is the most splendid mage that I have ever seen, whispering to the clouds and the earth to manipulate its catastrophes. An impressive mortal I suppose, having different spell books to read, learn, and formulate weather energies for many relevant uses.
Her phase began to slow, but they follow, the brows leaning as she was thinking deeply about the presence she belong. Glena puts away her eyes from the sword but to the girl, that which the hands are veiled in the coat, and her head bowed low.
Glena: So, Lady Giavonna was the one who brought the storm a while ago?
Giavonna: I did but for a purpose. A price shall be paid as I say, and so I prevented you to climb our tree because of taking no care of our sayings. Do not be mad at me though, you learned how to fight, a gradual step for a lone little pup.
Glena: I will eventually like it, I think. I have a weapon key, bigger than any sword that I've ever seen.
Jester: And if you are not fond of magic, train with Lavrand, a skilled paradigm of supernatural strength and agility. He can throw boulders ten times of a mammoth, he can run thrice as fast as the frenzied Aronixes. But note you, he rarely uses this type of skill, it is no question for us that mages replace the wits and strength of a mortal man.
The man did not speak a word, but his eyes shouts much anger, cruelty, and undying malice from the pain that he felt and from the blood that he spilled.
As they dug deep into the woods, the trees become bent which forms a perfect arch, glamorous despite being withered upon the tip. She noticed something hard that came tapping under her heels; the ground repolished its beauty, and a stepping stone was born upon the skin of the world. A gush of air blew, warm behind and colder in the vanguard; she suppose that the fool lady on blue whispered again, but now on the glaciers of the south and the pact of ice in a pile.
A gush of air blew, warm behind and colder in the vanguard; she suppose that the fool lady on blue whispered again, but now on the glaciers of the south and the pact of ice in a pile [https://img.wattpad.com/f75b80f2f589c298e419e043977286dbfecb6d86/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f7335394968757a783051423367673d3d2d313331363230333730322e313734623366313731346331356230643339333132323630353935362e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
They journeyed along the passageway of the straight forming of the withered woods, the sun was near to its farewell, but the moon is hardly seen by the great patch of white cloud. Glena started to become weary, hunger grew, and grew stronger.
Giavonna: I see you holding your stomach. Here!
A yellow fruit she threw at her, close to the shape of a mango but fleshy and heavier than ordinary. Eyeing and smearing, before she peeled its skin off for a bite.
Giavonna: There is no need to peel it off, little girl.
Glena: Does it bite?
The female fool laughed, but the little girl's smile was at its absence.
Giavonna: It doesn't bite, of course, I won't give it to you if it harms you. Not unless it's a fruit from the tree of Vesanor. Well, that is no fruit to peel with, those fruits of the kind have a territorial instinct, so be aware of what you climb on.
She chews within its essence, gaining the aura of an odd power without feeling full. The aura crawls upon her skin until the light flashes its last breath, and the night shone colors of the million stars, and of the pale moon that prays. At the end of the withered wood arch was a circular grassless plane, there in the middle erected a giant flower with a hue of mostly pink, and patches of black and white. It is half the size of the forest trees, with petals that glow like a lampshade of fairies.
It is half the size of the forest trees, with petals that glow like a lampshade of fairies [https://img.wattpad.com/f0c58a75606cb20702e73093841b85f61234e59e/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f58526265354645366673414b77513d3d2d313331363230333730322e313734623431373831383961353365393336323337383531313137372e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
Jester: Go on, Glena. The shifter flower awaits, created and ensnared with fate. The relevance of the vision with a single touch can change the course of your mind, and your perspective toward the understanding of the real, and imaginary world.
She looks back, recalling her words from her throat. With worry and fright, she gazed upon their stead. In a straight row, they possess the reality of their power, engaging a might by holding up their arms with an open palm to reveal the floating orbs of magical power. The three different flames that matches their coat dazzled beyond her eyes.
Glena: There is one thing you forgot to introduce to me. From the moment you saw me in the dungeons of Lordaeral, you never mentioned your name until now.
Jester: I will remind you of myself just for a moment. If you wanted it, I will give it to you. How? Touch the stem with both of your hands and now you'll see.
The orbs diffuse light still: the blue orb from the Giavonna rages with a thick tempest of white, and from Lavrand's palms floats a gathering of dreaded shadow coming from a void. And from the flames engulfing the bright mist of cold onto its swirling, the red flames broke off the nameless fool. The thickness of the stem unveiled the tiny thorns that cut her tiny fingers, she touched it, and there from the whole of her palms drifted a white light. The magic was so strong that even the light penetrated her veins, and her skin glows, and through her brain flowed.
The girl saw nothing but light, only light. From the void of luminosity suddenly came the sounds of galloping horses in a rush, but she saw nothing of the sort. She cannot see her body, but she can feel every part of it. In her last blink of an eye came the slashing of the sword from a pale shadow. Through the edges of clouds marched many horsemen, armored but veiled by a black hood, but in the outer middle patch of hungry swordsmen bolted a dashing white horse. The man bears oil-black thick steel, with two spikes before the hilt and a huge hole for gripping. It slices cleanly from the tip and through all edges of his sword, that even the apparitions of the south withdrew to the depths of the underworld.
The landscape comes clear now, the girl was alone in between the clashing of reality against the opposing ones. Under the snowstorm and before the icy mountains of dawn; his dead kindred were taken in a pile within the circle of blood-made ritual. The dead were resurrected as of the likes of them; a white tormented soul stained with blood came out of the corpses of the mortal. A faceless void shone from the stitches of the beheaded, a fallen angel wing of dreaded light red sprouted from its back, and the mortified shade got bigger, and bigger until it towers over him.
A faceless void shone from the stitches of the beheaded, a fallen angel wing of dreaded light red sprouted from its back, and the mortified shade got bigger, and bigger until it towers over him [https://img.wattpad.com/92956f95b0c688d5656b43ef318cf5257d7bceac/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f626567655f6a72372d486e5f39773d3d2d313331363230333730322e313734623435333962643930633335343331323035373237343430362e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]
(Glena's visions depicted from the story)
The soul of the dead gathered in one, casting fear upon the man that bears strong-wielding steel. He bolted from the growing wretch, taking no care of its growing chaotic intent. As he galloped with his white steed, Glena heard him whispering as if he is praying away for his life. The sudden terror came hurling out of an avalanche, breaking and shedding great ice from behind. The shadow followed him, the blurred glimpse as he snatch a look behind, the army of bladed shades has taken its flight, but at the end of the Dragon's tail, they fall back in the eons of eternity. The massive figure made by the soul of the fallen had sunk into the void between the lands of the south and were never seen again in the borders of the land.
Glena dreamt, but her eyelids never shuttered. She composed the riddle, and from the dream fate of the radiating petals she lay flat on a white floor. The sound rang and rippled within the snow that falls upon her face. She sat down, and upon the distant front was a great withered gate. Glena then took a seeing behind the trees where she saw the three jesters, with hands behind their backs; welcoming her in a chant.
Jester: The Plains of Queenever awaits you, little girl.