Between Sorrow and Duty: A Sun Elf’s Watch
The golden leaves of the Glimmerwoods swayed in the breeze, their soft rustling mingling with the distant calls of unseen birds. Beneath their boughs, in the heart of this sacred place, a lone figure stood—a guardian in silent reverence.
Lia’Vella Aleanylth, the sun elf warrior-arcanist, was seen once more beneath the
Golden Tree, as she is every day, her presence a constant vigil. Each dawn, before the waning of her magic, she
returns to reapply the arcane wards, ensuring the tree remains shielded from unseen threats.
Her longbow rested upon her back, her golden eyes drifting over the peaceful wildlife that roamed near the roots of the ancient tree. As the wind carried the scent of damp earth and old magic, she knelt—
a moment of stillness, a breath of devotion. Then, with deliberate grace, she placed her hands upon the soil, her voice barely above a whisper as she uttered a prayer:
“Vandria, Saryx, hear my prayer.
Grant me your blessing, so that I may protect my kin,
Alexander, my fellow Hunter’s Moon, and the people of Triel.
Lend me the strength to shoulder their burdens,
And the will to ease their worries in these darkened times.
If I must walk this path alone,
Then let me walk it proudly, bearing your name,
With unwavering resolve and an open heart.”
For a time, she remained motionless, lost in thought beneath the golden canopy. Then, as though steeled by an unseen force, she rose—her fingers tracing ancient patterns in the air as she
warded the area with careful precision.
Around the sacred tree, Lia’Vella wove enchantments—layers of arcane protections meant to shield the site from unseen eyes.
- **Arcane wards** hummed softly as they took root in the soil.
- **Alarm spells** shimmered briefly before fading into unseen vigilance.
- **Scrying magic** was carefully set along the
river’s edge, ensuring the water levels remained stable and undisturbed.
The sacred ground pulsed faintly with protective magic, the air tingling as unseen barriers took hold. Yet as the final ward settled, her instincts sharpened—something unseen pressed at the edges of her magic. A flicker of power, a whisper of something watching.
Her golden gaze swept across the shifting shadows, her stance unwavering. If there was something lurking beyond her sight, she did not yield to unease. Instead, she turned and departed—her path leading her toward duty once more.
In the following days, whispers spread through the Glimmerwoods.
Some spoke of an elf who knelt before the
Golden Tree, her voice weaving prayers of grief and resolve.
Others whispered that she walked with unseen burdens—that she no longer sought to fight for herself,
but for something greater.
