Across the rolling hills, a fresh breath of wind awoke the trees from their slumber. The smaller poplars stretched and yawned. Spring was not going to be gentle with its waking. The sun was rising to the loud encouragement of a minstrel bird, burning the delicate icing of frost on the ground.  

Along the rolling hills of emerald, six hooded figures ascended to the tallest.  The bright blue of dyed wool carved a small teardrop of dew against the grass unnaturally rolling upward, defying the nature of water itself. 

At the crown of the hill, six stones encircled the Source Tree. Eyes carved into each watched through moss curtains. Each a witness. Each a guard. Scor, the Promise of Fire, wielder of preservation and destruction. Tera, the Promise of Earth, rich and nourishing. Gulf, the Promise of Water, where all life begins. Ordene, the Promise of Order, governing all that lives. Ven, the Promise of Wind powering commerce and discovery. Sol, the Promise of Spirit, guide and protector of the Unseen. 

The gnarled oak served as the focus of each of the silent gazes. Gold and silver leaves dressed the upper limbs, while its main garb of a deep rich brown draped to the floor. Its bark was decorated with ashen hand prints. So many, that the oak itself almost seemed dusted with ash from a blaze.

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Entering through the archway of moss, the blue tear concluded its climb. Hoods dropped and young faces revealed. These were the faces of the future.  Each placed a shaky hand upon the oak in eager anticipation. 

Gold suddenly cascaded over the top of the stones, the light of the sun finally climbing high enough to spill its warmth on the Source Tree. The light scattered off of the silver and gold creating an embracing aura around the tree. Molten lines appeared on each of the stone witnesses and then extended across the floor to outstretched hands.

Hands dropped. Hoods replaced. The solemn assembly made ready to depart.

A rich brown-robed figure left to the east. This was a promise of new life, rich soils, and stability. 

A fiery robe embarked to the north. This was a promise of the familiar warmth of the hearth and the protection of forged steel.

An untouched blue, reminder that some things never change, and the ruling emerald returned to the south.

White left west to the coast with a promise of wind and safe seas.

Silver remained to be taught in the ways of the unseen, promising to be a guide to souls and a curator of knowledge.

Spring had arrived with Promises renewed.