Faerie’s new companions were interesting creatures. Very interesting creatures. Being able to see the obvious, she was well aware that they were magical beings, but until now she had no idea just what that could mean. Feeling rested after the previous night’s sleep, she had gone out into the glade as per usual. While she noticed the crystals floating in various locations throughout her garden, she was quite shocked at their reactions to her song.
As the first melodic notes left her lips, ripples of light could be seen passing through the crystals, spreading her voice and power to every corner of the garden. The ripples rose into waves, following the crescendos of music in harmony, and the power of her song rose. No longer a single voice, the glade now possessed a choir.
Delight quickly overtook Faerie’s surprise, and spurred on by the new residents involvement Faerie infused more power into her song, her voice rising and falling in a cascade of magic. As the magic became more layered and potent, the very air throughout the glade seemed to ripple, and the waves of power began to extend towards the wilds below.
Faerie, seemingly intoxicated with her own performance at this point, drew even more power through her voice, extending it out into the garden. Arcs of raw magic began to crackle across the garden and areas of space could be seen distorting more and more. Meanwhile, all of the Aethelii had been drawn into the song, their crystalline forms shining like miniature suns as the power of Faerie’s song circulated through each of them.
Not far away, both Queen and Arachne looked on at the scene, more and more concern showing on their faces at the buildup of magical energies. Arachne looked like she was about to intercede in the song when the massive buildup of energy seemingly found an outlet. The power that was radiating outward was all drawn towards the center of the glade in an instant, the power seemingly having focused on Faerie’s lotus in the midst of the spring.
Light coalesced around the lotus, seemingly drawn from each of the Aethelii, and when it faded, the flower’s white petals had become luminescent crystal, with several new smaller crystal blossoms spread out amongst the spring. While Faerie and the Aethelii had ceased singing, there seemed to be a whisper of the tune remaining among these new blossoms, enticing the Aethelii into their embrace.
Several Aethelii went forward to inspect these new and unique blossoms while Faerie went forward to inspect her altered lotus, feeling a convergence of power around the area stronger than before. As Faerie took her place, the new blossoms along with the Aethelii resting upon them began to orbit the lotus, and Faerie felt as though her power could reach further than ever before. As she thought about spreading her garden further, she thought back to all the incursions she and her family had suffered trying to protect the garden. “Wish they wouldn’t bother us!” She exclaimed.
As the words passed her lips, power spread out, extending to the base of Silver’s trunk hundreds of metres below, spreading in all directions. Soon, tendrils of mist began to rise from the earth out near the edges of Faerie’s domain. For kilometres in all directions an impenetrable fog settled over the land, extending up above the canopy, deceiving the senses of even potent magical beasts and monsters.
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South of the garden, Stoneblood Village
The Shaman had felt the magic gathering to the north. She had called forth an animal spirit to investigate when she sensed a massive buildup early in the morning and was shocked by what she’d observed. A massive amount of magical energy had gathered around the giant tree and then was dumped into the surroundings, a massive flood of magical power submerging the wilds over a 30km radius.
“Ay… I hope we not too late.” The elderly troll muttered to herself. The sea of fog surrounding the massive tree confounded her. Even her summoned animal spirit couldn’t penetrate it, easily becoming lost and disoriented as soon as it entered. The shaman thought she’d caught hints of music within the fog, but it always seemed as though just out of reach.
The two hunters sent to keep an eye to the north and inform the other tribes of the Stonebloods’ departure would return in a few days, and despite knowing that time was very much needed for the tribe to prepare, she truly felt it could not be fast enough. As she thought about what was going on to the north, there was a knock at the door of her small hut. “Shaman, we’s got news from them we sent north.” Came the voice of the chief.
A short while later, the shaman was sat alongside the chief with the remaining two hunters he had sent north, apparently they had chosen to return after encountering the massive wave of magic. Both hunters were strong trolls, among the best hunters in the tribe, and yet they looked haggard and spent as though they’d been running nonstop for hours.
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“Chief… we was just leaving the Nightfang tribe after we pass on you words, and we look north and see the fog, it cover everything!” Said the hunter. “It ain’t natural! Soon as it roll past, everything disappear and all around get quiet. I know you say four days chief, and we heed you words, but me and Jas… if we in the fog, we there to stay. Ain’t nothing coming outta there.” In the eyes of the chief, the troll looked shaken and he saw the same alarmed expression on the face of the other hunter, Jas. “Chief, we did run from the fog for hours before it stop, and I tell you this. It already cover the Scalebacks… If it move again, we’s gonna be in it too. I not be scared to face beasts, but this… I be but one troll, what can I do?”
Both the chief and shaman were silent, wearing grim expressions as they thought about this problem. They needed to evacuate as quickly as possible, but if they left with their people unprepared, there would be many more losses on their journey to new lands. The chief looked to the shaman, who gave him a resigned nod before he spoke. “You’s go rest, then help the preparations for we to go. Ain’t nothing for we Stonebloods in the north. We go in three days. If we shaman ask the spirits to watch the fog, we know as soon as it move.”
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As the magical fog spread out from the garden, so too did the various magical plants and flowers. As Faerie’s powers spread and permeated new areas of the wild, the plants and animals came under her influence as well. Soon, transformations could be seen in those that accepted Faerie’s power, various new magical flora appeared throughout the region, and the various native pollinators seemed particularly receptive to it, feeling relief and security in the dappled sunlight beneath the canopy.
Meanwhile, all those that rebelled and resisted Faerie’s influence found themselves shrouded in a sea of boundless fog that they could not escape. Many creatures seeking to find a way out ran for hours, never managing to make it more than 30m from their initial locations. It seemed that Faerie’s wish had been powerfully infused within the magic as the fog acted to trap and isolate those that pushed back against Faerie’s power, while any which accepted her were completely unaffected, perceiving nothing more than some light motes of mist within the air instead of impenetrable fog.
Upon its highest branches on the northern side, Arachne stood facing outward. With Faerie’s growth, although Arachne’s form remained the same, her size had changed proportionally. She looked out towards the horizon with a thoughtful expression, her eyes fixed on a sky full of boiling black clouds far in the distance that appeared to be advancing south.
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North of the Wilds
In a land covered in roiling black clouds, a massive rabble of various creatures had gathered. Savage and brutal, they considered themselves to be a righteous army, spreading the word and domain of their liege. For hundreds of years the armies of the Ashen One had scorched the lands and consolidated power, with few if any able to resist.
Far, far to the north, past the Pillar that was the Ashen holy land, the Ashborne struggled in their crusade against the Throne of Winter, as they had for many years, but as their holy war dragged on, supplies ran thin, thus word had come from the Pillar, and new armies had been raised.
‘Burn the southern Wilds, and the Ashborne victory against the Wolves of Winter will be assured.’
Formerly Primus Pilum of the Scorched Legion, and now Legatus of the Wildfire Legion, Triyet Vash had fought for and served for as long as he could remember. His race was unique, and like many races, they had struggled for many generations to carve out a place in this world to call their own. Triyet’s people were a tribe of humanoids with snakelike features, originating from the lands northeast of the Wilds long ago. Triyet himself was a tall and sturdy man, roughly 1.8m in height with broad shoulders, while his face was flat like that of a snake, with yellow eyes and slits for a nose. Among his people he could be considered relatively handsome, with small dark diamond shaped scales covering his body, many of which carried the scars of combat.
As for his people, they were thralls to the Ashen One who had long ago given them a place of their own in exchange for their unending service. While many might think it unfair or unreasonable, before she took them in, his people had been fighting for their lives and losing. The Ashen One was a harsh mistress, but she forged each of her people into a weapon that would crush any who stood against them, and let each of them make their own destiny among her ranks. That is what Triyet believed, trying to control his emotions as he looked at the rabble in front of him, the vanguard for the expansion to the south.
Little more than beasts, these creatures were Ashborne too, and served their mistress, but Triyet found them distasteful. They lacked unity, cohesion, and discipline. How could beasts like these truly serve her wishes? ‘It doesn’t matter.’ He thought. They were here to go before the real army, to search out and locate the heretics and apostates that they would surely find, so that they could be brought to kneel before the Ashen One, or be burned away like a cancer.
‘Ashen Lady, Illiet, I will turn these lands to ash in your name.’