Beyond the lonely forest trail sits a ruin. Picturesque and pretty to the eyes, it exhorts the curious to wander in and see the story that belies. Noble in its frail condition, reminiscent of a time long gone, the stones still bear the emotions, which most people fail to look upon. In its groves of green and grass and tranquil peace, solitude dwells unbound in perfect harmony. In caskets of white and ebony, in the groves do the just decease. Yet the stones still echo with a sadness untold, memories of times and eras cold. Stripped of what is valued to sight, only what is strong remains to fight the elements of decay it invites to rest. Upon its boughs the ghostly nest. Covered in bramble and ashes still, the coffers and ruins of peaceful will forever reside in the tree laden paradise, which in serenity is disguised. Walking alone, the past so reigns For only the past ever knew of its splendor, The mirth, the consolations, the ardor Its haunting loveliness is what remains. - Anonymous Author, 04-07-07 The great forest was most certainly not the only sight to see in the Wildlands. Beyond the great pine trees, where the Valterrian had violently reshaped the comely valleys of Suva so long ago, stood some of its most classic remnants; decaying, haunting witnesses to the ambitions of that proud empire. The ruins of a vast cathedral, steeped in more glorious memories, stood crumbling to the dust against the elements in a great valley. The towers of the facade rose high into the air, yet like a hollow ring from the abyss it was, merely an ornament now in the damp and sickening landscape. Looking closer upon the rotting stones, one would see the faces of people etched upon them, people who were not expecting the end to come so suddenly. The innocence of yesteryears had remained attached to reality in this place, devoid of consciousness, of care, over what had befallen them and their dearest ones. Cool mist palpitated the air around it, giving it an aura of timelessness, mystery... And also a terrifyingly quiet sort of danger. Nothing was stirring; there wasn't even any sort of creature there to break the eerie silence for the benefit of any unfortunate soul who managed to wander there. And today was definitely a day of glee for the sadistic elements. For the first time in a hundred years, the place will see someone of the living world. Out of the swirling shades emerged a figure in a long cloak, the metal bits of her embroidered clothes clicking together with every step into the mushy ground. Looking at her, one would have thought her to be one of the spectres guarding the place, a monk or a priestess from ages past and forgotten. Yet the luminous silver blade that hung from her side signified that she is nothing of the sort, and the chilled breaths that came out from her lungs told one that she is indeed alive. Stopping by the thickened trails to observe the place, tantalizing gray eyes shone from the darkness of her coverings, keenly taking everything around her into account. There were several large circles in the ground, obviously the foundations of structures long destroyed. Pools of water to the side of the trail spoke volumes of what the place really is; it was a swampland, and not a valley. And with her devotion to Avalis intact despite her creed and profession, she could plainly feel the forces that gripped the ruined land. In her eyes, she could see, even for a moment, how lovely and grand it all once was. A couple of happy children, laughing and playing with each other brushed against her side at the instant, and when she followed the vision they turned around in their eternal ecstasy to hold hands, then slowly faded to the air of reminiscence. A white hand touched a single stone column covered with moss and algae, and she instantly felt it all, the sedimentary truths of Ivak's wrath upon the world. Her sight climbed to the highest steeple of the towering stone sentinel, the lonely spire reminding her of gentle Mura and volatile Syliras. There she stood alone against the dull and cloudy afternoon, with the rumble of thunder permeating the belly of the sky. She was going to have to find shelter soon, for the valley might turn into a deadly swampland with the heavy rain. |