Excerpt from The Mad Scholar's Wall—

All hope was lost. Our deaths were near.

Hundreds — perhaps a thousand, if I am being generous and delusional — of the creatures lay dead, intermingled with the bodies of more than two thousand dead and dying legionaries. Bodies the ninth had to leave behind as the cohorts shrunk inward as their numbers diminished.

They could not hold against the savage ferocity and supernatural strength of the creatures. The legionaries were not trained nor had the experience or ability to withstand such a fight.

We would have already been destroyed, but after the initial rush, the beasts began holding back most of their number to circle around our small hill. Taunting us were constant howls and lying around yawning, showing off their fangs.

Even their half-hearted toying with us was still too much. The beast's swipes would knock men back or to the side, shattering the line. Leaving them open to attacks.

Before the men could recover, the beasts would lunge forward, ripping out throats or slashing a man's chest open to the spine with their claws.

Slowly, inevitably, the lines crumpled. Soldier after soldier was ripped from the lines.

I remember the women and other camp followers grabbing spears and extra equipment from the supply wagons. Anyone and everyone was holding a weapon or the next best thing.

We could all see what was coming. We knew what was about to happen to us. Because we saw it happening to our legion.

But we would not go down without a fight.

Even I, a child of five at the time, had a long knife thrust into my hands by a wounded soldier rushing to rejoin the line.

And then they road out of the forests on horses of purest white.

They were tall, elegant, majestic creatures that all bore the air of royalty around their shoulders.

With a wave of the leader's hand, the very air seemed to pulse out in a wave, ripping up the ground and anything on it in an ever-expanding arching explosion.

Two thousand creatures poised to rip us to shreds were killed in two explosive seconds.

**********

At first, I was unsure whether what I heard was my imagination or not. I remembered walking through a mind-clouding meadow towards what I thought was a Dawn Tree, but I was starting to think things weren't exactly as they appeared. And no matter how clear my thoughts seemed to be, all I could see was white. Assuming I was still being mentally manipulated seemed prudent.

"Why did you come here, Little One." The same soft, motherly voice asked mentally, "If it is within this branch's power, it will be done."

I was stunned. The voice made me feel like I was lying under the branches of a tree in the height of summer, trying to cool off while falling asleep.

Any doubts I had vanished in the face of the love-filled voice and intent. If this wasn't a Dawn Tree, it was something akin to it.

"Greetings, Ancestor. I am honored that you would speak with me," I thought back while trying to bow. My body did not move, at least not that I could tell, but I felt the intent was sent with my thoughts.

"There is no need for that, Little One." The feminine voice sounded slightly amused by my thoughts, "I care little for long, meaningless formalities; this branch has spoken to so few in recent centuries, and time is… not on our side."

Panic and shame washed through me at the words.

Every elf child grew up hearing stories of the Ancestor and her Guardians. The human nobles and aristocrats scorned our continued reverence of them.

They claimed the Ancestor and Guardians were nothing more than the Ancients, those who made up the elven kingdom that once spanned the continent. A kingdom that was nothing but a cesspit of backstabbers who turned on the Republic in its infancy, nearly destroying it. After promising Olimpia support and aid in times of need, the old elves tried to destroy the Gauntlet, leaving Olimpia open for a beastkin hoard. It was only through an unbelievable level of determination and grit that the defenders held off both of the attacks before turning on and destroying those who betrayed them.

The actions of the Ancients were unredeemable and the main reason elves today are treated as a second class. But despite how we suffer rightfully for the Ancient's actions, they are not the Ancestor or Guardians.

Our legends are clear.

While they might be our elders and ancestors, the Ancients are not what we honor with stories and legends. That right belongs to the World Tree, which we were all born from, and the Dawn Trees, which are the branches of the World Tree in this world.

The Ancestor is, and will always be, represented by the Dawn Trees, all of which were connected because there is only one. And no Dawn Tree was ever spoken about without its Guardians, the ever-vigilant protectors.

But I, like most, had always thought of them as stories. Myths never to be seen but always spoken of with reverence by the elders.

Everyone in an elf village had a story of their youths where they trekked into the forest on grand adventures, looking for a Dawn Tree. But every half a century, someone would venture into the heart of the Great Wood, going out on a real adventure.

Some sought to reclaim a portion of our lost glory. Others ventured into the forest to fulfill a sense of exploration. It was rare for any to return.

And those that did return never spoke of finding anything besides giant monsters who chased them deep in the forest.

And yet, here I was. Here it was.

I always wanted to know if Dawn Trees were real.

In my youth, I would venture off into the forest with my friends in search of The Lost City of the Guardians.

The one city that never fell to the humans, despite all its inhabitants long since dying.

At a moment when I was reasonably confident I was going to die, I indulged in a juvenile fantasy. To search a lost and forgotten ruin in search of a Dawn Tree.

Then, a miracle happened.

By the Ancestor and fucking Guardians, I found a Dawn Tree. And it spoke to me. Like all the tales and legends my mother told me while I was trying to fall asleep.

It was true, all true, and now I was weeping tears filled with sorrow. I could feel the tree through the scarlet half-sphere, and it was dying.

Because I was here making her use energy. And so were the beastkin to my side. I couldn't see them, but I knew they were there regardless, just past the edge of the clearing.

"Do not cry, Little One." The motherly rustling voice said as a soft caressing breeze washed over my mind, gently enveloping it as if it was a hug. For the briefest instant, I was filled with her loving affection, and I felt the power behind the mental hug. It was so great that I could not conceive of its edges. But it left me as unharmed as a parent squeezing their infant child to their chest after whisking it from the path of a wagon. Under the Dawn Trees branches, I was safe. "It was time this branch died. Nothing lasts forever. At least this way, I may preserve some of my children. Now speak, what can I do for you?"

I hesitated for a moment, considering what I should ask. Or if I should ask anything at all. But the warmth of the Dawn Tree still filled me, snuffing out any regrets or guilt I might have about coming here. What's done is done, and I wanted to live, so I said, "I need time. And a way out of this valley away from the beastkin."

“Hmm… that could be a problem… The Lost Ones are also… Though they're not so lost anymore, are they. And you might… yes, I think that's best."

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The Dawn Tree's mind washed over me as it thought about my request and how to deal with it. I caught bits and pieces of thought, but it was apparently not as simple as I had hoped, causing me to tense up in concern.

"Getting you out is easy." She reassured me, washing away all of my tension with her soothing voice. "Finish your journey under my boughs by moving to the trees behind you. After a short distance, the trees will end at a hillside. Find a tree with a large hollow in its trunk and search inside to find a lever to open a passageway to an escape tunnel. As for time, the Guardians will stall the beastkin, but they won't last long. It might not be much, but it is all I can offer."

"Thank you." I sent to the Dawn Tree. And I even managed to bow slightly.

I could feel the power the Dawn Tree was using to keep me in place while searching my mind was receding. But the power surged back over me, sending me one final message.

"Once you are free from the mindscape, the protections of the glade will vanish, and those outside will be free to enter unimpeded." The Dawn Tree paused, and I could tell she was not done talking. She was just thinking of what to say next. "Should the time ever come where you remember, and you need answers and power to protect, search out my heart. The Mantle must be taken up before it's too late, and I believe you can bare—."

The soft whispers of the Dawn Tree fell away into indistinct murmurs before she finished. Along with her words, the unimaginable power that enveloped me a moment before whooshed away like a receding tide.

I blinked, and the blank white, endless white filling my mind disappeared. Looking blankly down, I moved my hand away from the scarlet half-sphere, seeing it was dim and lifeless.

Pressing my hand back down on the dim sphere, I called out, hoping she would answer, "Wait, Ancestor! What did the last part mean? What Mantle?"

Honestly, I didn't care about the Ancestor's last words. I just wanted to hear her speak again. To be in her presence. The world felt so lonely and desolate without them. Like I would never again feel the warmth and joy of being at home.

I was going to call out again, but the clearing was filled with silence one second, and the next, I could hardly hear myself think over the howls.

My chest felt the pressure from the noise, and I thought I could detect a slight tremor in the ground.

Stumbling back from the pedestal like I was struck in the chest, I looked around at the surrounding trees.

I saw nothing moving at the tree line, but it meant little when I could hear them so clearly.

The beastkin were here in the dozens, if not hundreds, and would find me soon enough, whether I saw them or not.

Jumping past the pedestal and spinning around, I looked at the source of the cracking and creaking sound behind me.

The silver lines scattered about on the Dawn Tree were splitting apart like two sides of a door.

Taking slow, clumsy steps back, my gaze traced up the Dawn Tree. All across its surface, more and more of the hollows were opening.

Inside the hollows were seven to eight-foot-tall figures holding weapons in their hands. Some held spears, other swords and shields, and more had bows. A few of the Guardians that were larger than the rest held hulking broad swords in their hands, the blades tip-down, hands clasped on the hilt in front of their chest.

"The Guardians…" I whispered in awe.

The creatures are made of living wood, which can heal from any damage in seconds. Legend even said that the best elf warriors would offer up their memories and will to the Dawn Trees so they could serve as her Guardians in death as well as life.

Starting from the lowest alcove, the Guardians dropped the short distance to the ground before moving away from the tree, clearing the spot for the next Guardian to fall. They took multiple steps outward in unison before turning and walking around to the other side of the tree from me.

As they walked forward, more Guardians dropped from the progressively higher alcoves, joining the other Guardians moving around the diameter of the large tree.

The Guardians moved with a fluidity that I had only seen in the most seasoned and skilled individuals. There were no halting and slow movements as if they were externally controlled puppets. If I didn't know better, I would say I was watching a century of knights.

Growing in intensity, the howls reached a new peak as the Guardians made a line on the far side of the tree from me.

Coming to my senses, I looked at the Guardians one more time with awe before I started to turn and shuffle in the opposite direction that they were headed, tears running down my face.

Even as I watched the Guardians, I could see the bark of the Dawn Tree begin to lose its color. It was like pouring water into paint and watching the brightness wash away. The Dawn Tree's color got to the point that, while it would look normal on any other tree, compared to what I first saw and felt when entering the clearing, it was lifeless. And looking at it hurt something deep inside of me.

Unable to continue to look at the dying Dawn Tree anymore, even with the amazing sight of the Guardians in the background, I completed my turn and picked up the pace.

At first, as I ran away from the tree's cover, I was concerned I would be spotted. But that concern quickly vanished and was replaced by another.

I like my eyes. Seeing was great! I would rather give up an arm than an eye, but that was just me.

The golden leaves that hung overhead like a shifting golden sky did not like my eyes. Or me, for that matter, the little bastards.

The once golden leaves turned a dull bronze and began to fall. One or two wouldn't be that bad, like walking down a tree-strewn path in autumn. But all of the leaves started to fall as their branch died, and they were way sharper than a leaf had a right to be.

They were mini fucking knives.

As I ran forward, I had to use a small portion of my mental powers to create a shield for my eyes. Doing more would take more mental energy than I could spend

Running through the leaves was like moving through buckets of broken glass. Luckily, my shoes were strong enough to protect my feet. Otherwise, I wouldn't be able to move.

If I could hardly see a foot in front of my face, there was no way that anything else could see me. Putting my head down with that in mind, I pushed myself forward as fast as possible.

Getting out of the clearing unnoticed was best.

"Oww! Dawn Tree, take you!" I grunted in pain at the stupid falling leaf that slashed down the bridge of my nose, then felt a little guilty for saying the words as I looked upwards toward the limbs of the Dawn Tree above me. I couldn't see them, but it was little comfort.

The leaves hitting me were not like typical leaves. I mean, doubt they are abnormal for a Dawn Tree, but why are they so fucking sharp! I grumbled to myself.

With a mental sigh, I used more of my power, creating a layer of force around my upper body. My arms, collar, and head were crisscrossed with multiple minor cuts.

Every time one of the leaves fell just right to spear into my shield, I felt a minor strain on my reserves and willpower. It wasn't that often that a leaf would fall onto me point first or slash across my body lengthwise like a somewhat sharp knife, but with me dealing with literally hundreds of leaves every second, it was happening enough to add quite the strain.

A strain that was adding itself to my already worn-out mind and pushing me to my limit.

Making my way to the pedestal took a lot of will.

Even with most of my mental energy intact, if I was pushed to the point that I lacked the will to lift my arm, what did reserves matter?

Step after step, the strain of constantly deflecting the small attacks mounted. It wasn't really the attacks. Handling those was easy.

It was the constant remolding and reinforcing of the force shroud with my will so it could block the next leaf. And the next and next. One, two, ten, fifty times a second. It was nearly overwhelming.

Then, all of a sudden, the pressure stopped. And there was nothing to block.

The leaves were gone, and I was less than fifty feet from the edge of the tree line. I made it! I thought to myself.

An eagle's cry sounded above and behind me.

Sighing, I looked up and back. I was not surprised to see the eagle beastkin making the racket. His cry was kind of a dead giveaway. And based on my experience, he was the type of person to make a lot of noise.

What I did not expect, and caused my eyes to widen in alarm, was the beastkin already in mid-dive, headed right for me.

He was already swooping under the dead and dried-out branches of the Dawn Tree, streaking across the distance between us. Ignoring the slight twinge in my heart the sight caused, I focused on the beastkin.

The wings on the beastkin's back were pulled tight, and his eyes were squinted while he dove at me.

I also saw smaller feathers covering his body, though I could still distinguish his human chest and waist beneath them. It wasn't hard to see it, either. Not that I wanted to check his figure out or anything.

Apparently, the eagle thought that tight leather pants and some straps making up a leather chest harness were all the clothing he needed. That and some useless trinkets dangling off his belt.

The bizarre part was his face. And arms. I could easily describe him as human. I didn't even have to see him in a dark room and squint.

His jawline was sharp, and his nose was a bit pointed, but there were no abnormal features. Even his eyes were a normal green.

I was expecting him to have a beak. At least, that's what I have read about most bird beasts in the legion reports.

And the hawk that chased me through the mountains didn't even have arms. Though his head was also mostly human now that I thought about it.

A slightly taller than an average human body and a normal face, the beastkin looked like a human falling out of the sky if I ignored the outstretched wings.

Not that I wanted to talk to him or anything. Because one thing his face was not, was friendly. It was twisted into a rictus of rage and scorn. And burning in his eyes was the desire to kill.

I had seen the desire to kill many times on the faces of humans, beastkin, and elves. Didn't matter which species we were talking about; I knew when someone wanted to kill me.

And this guy was giving off all the signs.

There was only one way out of this.

Turning forward, I adjusted my belt, then raced ahead.

Giving my all to running forward, the ground passed beneath me step by step in a blur, but I was paying little attention to where I was going. My running was a minor concern, as most of my attention was focused on my hea—

Now! I mentally screamed.

I let my feet slide out from under me on the dirt while reaching for the blade at my waist. In one fluid motion, I pulled my sword out of its scabbard with my right hand and tossed it into the air.

At the same time, I sent out a mental tendril, grabbed onto the back of my harness, and yanked myself down and backward as a second tendril grabbed hold of my sword, catching it in the air.

As the eagle beastkin passed over my head, he stabbed his dual short spears into where my back had just been. He tried to slash his spears at me as he flared his wings, but his attacks came nowhere close to landing.

I smirked as the beastkin's head turned, tracking me with his eyes even as his attack missed.

Flicking my wrist downward along with my mind, I sent my blade spinning down, slashing into the base of the beastkin's right wing.

"Caaaw!" Cried the beastkin in rage and pain as his outstretched right wing collapsed when my blade caught in its flesh, tearing it free from my tendril's grip.

I might have lost my weapon, but at least his attempt to turn his diving attack into an upward swoop into the sky ended in a wild flailing toward the ground. At this point, the weapon only slowed me down as I tried to escape.

The beastkin started tumbling across the bare dirt ground in a spray of dirt and blood.

I didn't even give the beastkin a second glance as I jumped to my feet and started running for the forest.

"Ahh! Fuck!" I shouted as I stumbled to the side after only a few steps toward the forest.

The spear thrown at me missed hitting me in the center of my back, which was great. But now my left arm has a large splinter sticking out of it. You can call a spear a splinter when it's in your body… right?