𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓾𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝔀𝓸𝓸𝓭.To do this we must look back eons ago, back when only the smallest of villages dotted the vast, unexplored wilderness. When the mystic elementals still controlled the world, and the magic within the earth was plain as day. It was a time of wild energies and hidden dangers, where any turn could be your last. But it was also a time of fierce protectors, those who would control such energies and use them to keep safe the things important to them. Every day was a new battle between the darkness and the light, a new chance to discover something new or to find one’s end.
𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓾𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓽.Ik’tu was the youngest of a family of forest spirits, all wild and revered in their own way. His seven brothers and seven sisters each reigned over their own section of the wood, keeping the balance and the peace. But Ik’tu had no such place. He quarreled with his siblings, often causing mischief wherever he went. He could never stay in one place for long; if he was caught, his siblings would banish him back to the spirit realm where he could play no more. And thus he travelled constantly, a legend among the very few who had ever witnessed his revelry.
The spirits took it upon themselves to watch over the inhabitants of their respective region of the forest, be it mouse, deer, or lion. The kalons that lived within the wood came to know their spirits, and seeing that they would be much worse off without them, gave thanks for the help and nurturing they received. Kalonfolk would pay heed to their guardians, giving them the utmost respect in return for protection. The spirits of the wood found this appropriate and grew proud from the kalons’ words of praise. These ways continued for centuries, traditions passed down from one generation to the next.
Over time, however, the memories of the great spirits faded away more and more as the bloodline of the ancient kalons grew thin. There were few who remembered to give offerings to the protectors, and still fewer who had ever witnessed their feats. Legend turned to fairy tale, and the younger kalonfolk had no belief in such stories. As villages grew, faith weakened, and this perturbed and insulted the guardians who had blessed them and allowed them to thrive.
𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓾𝓼 𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵.Jal grew up in one of very few forest villages, and though she loved her home dearly, she could feel the wood calling to her. Her heart longed to be free amongst the endless green, with no obligations to anyone except herself. The mossy ground was more enticing than the hard-packed earth of the village square, and the canopy of leaves overhead was more comforting than any thatched roof. And yet, she knew not the courage of her ancestors, so she remained in the confines of her home. Still, she couldn’t resist the song of the wood, and some nights when the moon was new and the crickets chirped their melodies, she would sneak away from her village and explore the wealth of the earth.
It was she who first knew something was amiss. In her nightly escapades, she noticed fewer fireflies guiding her way, and her nocturnal companions were nowhere to be found. The woods were silent around her, the darkness cold and unwelcoming.
A stranger from the north arrived in Jal’s village, telling a frightening tale of the destruction of his own hometown. The cold winds had blown relentlessly, bringing a frost like no one had ever seen before. The young kalonfolk laughed at such a story, but the elders were grim. It appeared the spirits had forsaken them at last. Such a notion only made the young ones sneer more.
They did not sneer when the raging winds ripped their thatch roofs to shreds, when the chill from the north came and froze over every body of water they used to drink. They did not sneer when they were buried beneath the snow, their cries of repentance drowned out by the howls of the wind.
Jal had heeded her elders’ warning and fled the village before the worst of the storms hit. Still, the cold caught up to her, and it wasn’t long before she too was huddled beneath a great oak, a wool shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Despite this, she succumbed to the ice, and soon the whiteness filled her vision until she saw no more.
Ik’tu stumbled across Jal as he too escaped the frozen winds. He had watched her from afar as she wandered in the night and, taking pity on her, breathed life into her once again.
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(I'm afraid I won't be able to finish due to a lack of time on my end. Best of luck to all of you!)