Aster also hoped again that this year, the remnants of fauna and wildlife of the Yev’hen Forest would help liven his master's mood. It was not often now that they were fortunate enough to see the various mystic species their people once cared for.
As they continued, they reached a grove of a few surviving twilight birch, perhaps some of his favorite trees by far. Though the path they traveled on was now overgrown, he could still make out the old trail that once led to his uncle’s reclusive orchard. These trees were diminutive compared to other plants in the forest, but hardy, nonetheless. The sight brought back bittersweet memories of when he and his master had played here as children, weaving in and out of the branches, chasing one another as the lilac petals of the tree’s blossoms sprinkled down. In his opinion, there was no sight that quite compared.
His uncle had kept a great variety of fruits and plants, which was typical of most herbalist, but to Aster his uncle appeared to be more engrossed than most. Like he had something to prove.
“Aglender roots are good for fevers. Dancers Clover can be used on festering wounds.”
His uncle’s voice narrated the scenery before him. Memories from a happier time drifted into his mind’s eye, from days when Aster had spent hours out in the forest with his uncle as a child. It had always amazed Aster how quickly he could name something with just a quick glance.
“As people of the forest, it is our duty to be good stewards of it, herbalism is but one of our charges.”
As they moved past the orchard, they were once again surrounded by great Elderoak trunks that stretched far above their heads and were as wide as ships- always a comforting sight for him. Such trees reminded Aster of his childhood home, a splendid old tree that was hollowed out to make room for him and his seven siblings. Its roots were their slides and bridges, and the canopy was their lookout.
Even their steeds the Kadu, an ancient breed that resembled both horse and elk , enjoyed the ambiance of what was also their ancestral homeland. To Aster, they appeared calmer and more cooperative when traveling here than across the border. “Their love for the long forest ferns might have something to do with that,” he thought. His Kadu had turned its head in the direction of a tall Fennel plant, eyeing it with gluttony.
The scenery of the Yev’hen Forest was full of color, vigor, and an arcane power that their people revered. The Elder Forests were the lifeblood for their way of life and the entire foundation of their existence.
Aster knew that his master was using this trip to atone for that fact. Many of their people had objected to leaving the forest, calling it a cardinal sin. But what had happened was inevitable, and he knew that she knew that logically. Yet, it seemed that even after all this time she was still unable to accept her own decision. He wondered what more he could do to ease her burden.
His worries were cut short as he heard the familiar crunch of ash under the hooves of the Kadu, the quantity of trees and plants now drastically reduced as they approached their destination, branches becoming twisted and blackened.
Soon they came upon one of the great landmarks of the forest, the Mede River. While not great in diameter it was a strong stream that originated from the northern Orphean mountains and was the final signifier that they had nearly arrived at their destination.
“Your mask, lady,” Aster reminded his charge. The air was growing thicker now, heavy with the smell of oil and dust, dense enough that it was unsafe to breathe unprotected for some time. Aster pulled his own cloth mask- attached to his tunic- up over his nose.
Though he had accompanied his master on her pilgrimage many times over the years, nothing could quite prepare someone for seeing the charred ground and destruction that was once the haven of the Eälderman people.
Returning was just as bad as the first time.
In the middle of an immense clearing, right at the boundary of a great valley, the once great city of Xe’Hadena stretched out before them, along with a leviathan class skyship that had crashed into the heart of the city 14 years ago.
At times, Aster wondered how civilized countries like Ephesia could dedicate so much time and resources to make such flimsy machines. Only a few hits and the entire flying ship could come crashing down. This vehicle had crushed everything in its path, creating a fire that burned for nearly half a year until the city was almost unrecognizable. The great trees that once were the foundations of the city lay charred to their stumps. Smoke was still rising from many, the remnant fuel leakage and immense piles of ash and coal stoking unquenchable flames.
Not even the citadel had survived the crash, the stern of the ship had cleaved right through it. Securing the fate of all the prominent figures inside. The great tree growing within its foundations, was felled in the wake of all the destruction.
On the outskirts, the once splendid red rye fields had been reduced to dunes of soot. They had been the pride of the city, an emblem on their flags, and had shimmered like rose gold in the sunlight. Now, reduced to flakes of red peppery ash.
After years of burning, all that remained of the cause of the catastrophe was its steel skeleton. In its bow, a great gash from where it had crushed the Cyrene sanctum, a feat of architecture even for the likes of the Ephesian warships. It was the only thing that truly survived the mass destruction, albeit barely. All that remained was the framing of the main bell tower, piercing through the hull like a knife in the gullet of a fish.
Miles upon miles of trees had been burned to ash, the falmes swallowing everything in their wake, changing the landscape of the forest forever.
If his ancestors were here to see this now, the world would have surely faced their wrath.
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