Somewhere east of Ta'Loenthra…

Humid and warm, the ocean-borne breeze tugged at the titan-hued strands of fine hair that surrounded the aging woman who sat amid cloth-wrapped crates on the deck of Dawn's Pride as it cut through the sea. Sea thraks bobbed in and out of the waves alongside the vessel, but the deck's lone passenger paid them no mind.

Meditation and memory often went hand in hand, so with her gaze focused on the smudge of land growing to the west, her emerald eyes grew unfocused as she remembered another time...

As Eonak was her witness, if this next round of experiments failed, she was going to forgo the peace her father had taught her to always maintain and throttle the arrogant elf right here on the mountainside.

They had been working together alone for over a year and striving to create a hardy wood that could actually grow in the unique soils of Atan Irith, but every attempt had been met with equal parts success and devastating failure. Her father's notes, may his soul be reshaped by Eonak's mighty hammer, were extensive, and she swore on his death that she would see this project through. But, each failure was more dangerous than the last, and she did not know if she could continue to justify the cost in damage to land and life.

She had watched dutifully as her father invited the elf into their lands, their home. Demure, but keen, she listened to them plot and understood what her father wanted. Along with the men, she thrilled at the prospect that such a tree could be produced and even had added touches of her own elemental magic to the pairings. It was hard work, the three of them enchanting and casting, night after night. Infusing the sturdy seedlings of Etan Irithi's most prized tree with the elemental magic of both the Erithi and Elven peoples, but also a touch of the spirit as she added the balancing force to temper the masculine magic at play.

In the end, magic, agate, and tree had been compressed into one: a magical seed. Planting them was an easy process, and it was during this time that the three could relax for the first time in months. By day, they would wander the glade they had selected, tending to the growing trees. By evening, they would stay up past the setting of the moons, discussing the finer points of the study of magic. She had been intrigued by the differences between how the elves and erithi studied magic but also comforted by those things that were similar. Magic, in all its forms, was basically the same throughout Elanthia.

The first disaster, some six months after planting, struck as the young saplings began to produce branches. It struck the trio as odd that the specimen was without leaf or bud, though they had given thought that perhaps this was due to its diminished size and spindled nature. It wasn't until a particularly sunny day, that they began to notice that the trees did not absorb the sunlight as others of its species did. Instead, it seemed to reflect the light, and it was then that they began to understand the structure of this new tree they had created. Veins of crystal flowed through the layers of the tree causing the bark to curl up in thin strips and fall away with each new growth. Fascination and academic curiosity soon gave way to panic as the reflected light acted as an enormous reading glass and sent rays of searing sunlight in all directions. Within hours, the fires that subsequently erupted proved catastrophic and destroyed the small encampment they built upon the edge of the glade. Uprooting what saplings they could salvage, they abandoned the sight for a more arid environment.

The second disaster, this time nine months after replanting, came as a bit of a surprise. They created large canopies over the swiftly growing saplings to shelter them from direct rays of sunlight. Heat from the long summer days on the coast neither enhanced or diminished their growth and all seemed to be progressing nicely. The coastal breezes were as warm as the air in this part of Atan Irith and did little to add comfort to the days. What they did do was cause a vibration in the crystalline structures of the young trees that caused them to hum at varying octaves. While this sound seemed, at first, to produce an eerie music throughout the glade, it quickly grew into deafening octaves and began to shatter glass. It grew in decibels until all within hearing of the music began to fear going deaf and it was only due to the spiritual magic of those erithi gathered that silence finally rained upon the grove. However, for many, the damage was done. Crystal, glass, and many thin porcelain pieces that resided in the area were weakened or shattered completely, many of these items heirlooms of the people. The worst result though was the utter magical deafening that happened to many of the workers that were closest to the young trees. To this day, those workers have not recovered.

The third disaster, this time nearly a year after a second replanting, was, in her opinion, the worst disaster to ever take place. They had discovered after their second disaster that the sonic reaction had been both a combination of heat rippling off the ground and making the crystalline structures within the trees porous. This allowed the trees to amplify the wind that whistled off the water to such a devastating effect. Thus it was that they moved to the alpine ranges of Atan Irith. Great poplar and pine trees provided the necessary shade to keep the small trees from reflecting the sunlight, and the cold environs stopped the crystalline structures from growing porous, thus preventing the sonic resonance from taking place. The trees flourished. Tall and spindled, their bark shedding every month to display the dazzling brilliance beneath. Still wooden, yet so much more. An odd byproduct of the trees were these crystalline tears that formed on the bark. They had started appearing days before the third disaster struck.

In the dawn hours of that fate-filled morning, workers had moved into the sheltered glade to make observations. They measured the girth, the height, and noted where trees had begun to branch. The tears had been removed some days before and no new ones had appeared. One worker pointed out to his friend that there appeared to be a split in the center of one of the trees. He recommended that one of the elementalist be called to observe it, especially since others were noting the same in their trees. One of the elementalists that came to the call was her father. She was set to join him, the elf at her side, when an earth-shattering explosion drew all eyes to the forest, only the forest was gone.

As the encampment came out en masse to rush to the forest, it quickly became evident that the magical trees themselves had exploded. Survivors, of which there were painfully too few, reported that the center of the trees had simply splintered under the weight of the upper boughs and sent thousands of crystalline shards hurtling through the air. It had instantly shredded the poplar and pine surrounding it, but the devastation to the flesh of the workers and elementalists in the glade had been the worst. The casualties were too many, her father among them.

It took months to heal the hurts, to clear out the grove, and to struggle to find some way to move on. They had buried their dead, salvaged little but seeds from the trees, and many had abandoned them. In the end, she and the elf swore that they would finish the project in her father's name. In the end, there were only two of them left to do it.

For a year now, they had watched the seeds transition from seedling to sapling, sapling to tree. They had worked on only a dozen, fearful that any more would be too much for them to handle alone. They had hunted together, eaten together, enchanted more seeds, and shared tales. Eventually, their professional admiration for each other took root and grew into a nurtured relationship.

Yesterday, the tears fell from the trees and today they were harvesting. It was going well. There were no casualties. The bark had curled away as it did every month and the trunks were sturdy, but not overly large. They had decided to take them all down at once, fearful that something in the wind, the sun, or the very elements may cause a fourth disaster. Before them lay a dozen trunks, each no thicker than a man's thigh and thrice a man's height. In the morning, they would begin their experiments...

"Diriko..."

Still lost in memories, the aging-erithi woman answered, "Sylinar?"

The elf smiled and shook his head. "Lady, the captain asked me to tell you that we are almost in Ta'Loenthra. He said to let you know that your airship will be waiting to take you to Summit Academy."

She nodded her thanks, her head inclined to the man as he departed.

~*~ Thandiwe ~*~
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