Upon a lakeshore long lost to us, the Lifemother stood, her feet sinking into the sodden earth.
She gave unto the mud-coated seed in Her hands the greatest gift of all. Herself. Breath stirred in Her chest and spilled forth from Her lips, and the stillness of Creation dissipated.

We are pulled into the earth, returned to Her to ensure the Cycle continues. She is the cornerstone upon which Creation spins. It was nothing before Her, and it would be nothing without Her.

Do not hide this truth behind simple claims for regional sovereignty. Oblivion's Black Eyes survey Her realm with endless pursuit to overthrow not only this forest space, but Her perpetual domain. He Who Watches seeks to drain from all land movement until only inertia and nothingness abides.

The decaying forest, the thriving sapling, and the seed that gave movement to all between are Hers. The only peril faced is inaction against those who desecrate Her demesne. Take heed of the world thrumming in perfect unison with Her pulse, lest the raw, tenacious power of Nature turn fully against you.

TV



Penned by my hand on the 5th of Daedalan, in the year 872 AF.