Seasonal Stirring

The World of Stirring. Change is the norm here, even for the world itself. It embodies alternate realities that somehow seamlessly flow together, as if a godly seamstress had woven the pinnacle of her work. A flowing canvas upon which is stitched with both mystery of the unknown and the excitement of discovery. It is here we start our story, and it is here this story will end.

Blank... Like the unwritten page a writer seemingly cannot compose, or the confounding elusiveness a painter has as he stares at a barren canvas on the pinnacle of a breakthrough. It didn't know what it was, where it was, or who it was. The memories would flash by, but suddenly slip away fading into mist.

It tried to gather some idea of its surroundings. The world was dark, and the air was frigid. As it looked closer, it could see small shards of light peer through small cracks along the walls. Deciding it saw all that it could see, it focused on its sense of smell... Inhale..... The world suddenly took a three dimensional shape within its mind. It smelt a strong earthy aroma, but not one of dirt. The smell was more of an.... oaky scent. 'Yes,' it thought. A tree.

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A memory flashed within its mind. The world turned into a lush forest, and it was standing on a hunters path. There were thin, yet incredibly tall trees on both sides. Its gaze shifted upwards. The trees seemed to warp in strange yet miraculous ways, as if trying to reach for the blinding blue light in the sky. They were children grasping for food. 'I know this place... but where...' It suddenly found within its sight a emperor standing majestically above its subjects, his arms raised in a stance of rallying triumph. The vision blurred and started to fragment, but not before it imprinted the immense aura the colossal being released deep within the recesses of its mind. The vision shattered like shards of a mirror, a golden leaf shimmered in one of the falling fragments. It suddenly had a deep feeling of recollection. 'The Archwood of Life,' was its last though before a feeling of exhaustion weighed its very soul into a deep slumber.