The disquieting patter of the rain was the sole echo that disrupted the night. Leaves struck heavy by heavens tears weakened, whaled and wept, joining the orchestra of gentle sorrow that played its eternal melody throughout the endless expanse of that forest. The entirety of the wood seemed in melancholy as the burning embers of the sky were blocked from blessing the serene place with their illuminating gaze. All that lit the grieving earth was that pale watcher of the night whose light broke through the thickening darkness and observed all below its mighty form.
Those below, those lesser beings who called the wood their home, cried a long with the low tune that played among them. A harsh wind that ripped and tore through the aged oaks, the ancient evergreens, and broke their bodies. Dozens of green children were stolen from their parents. Bare branches like withering fingers remained outstretched hoping to catch their young from the cruel storm that mercilessly took many a life.
Yet in the grand brutality that was natures will, beauty was found. Looking down from a mountain side, Solstafir saw what was a rare sight. Amidst the sadness of the forest that was clear from the height, he saw what also blessed the wood, healed the damage caused. Even as the wind tore into his side and brought the ruins of life to beat against him like shattered glass, the sight remained. The wind changed direction, altered the angle and what he thought was perfection was further amplified in his eyes. Each droplet as it fell from the dark body of the sky carried with it a light given to it from the midnight eye.
Liquid silver. Nature’s richest gift that nourished all below. In all his years alive, it was still a rare and awe-inspiring sight to see. The contrast of nature’s divinity and cruelty painted across a portion of a world. And yet, here it was. His eyes were fixed on it all, taking in ever detail. Each reflection of light, how it moved across the body of the forest as clouds gathered and dispersed and danced in the midnight sky. ‘Perfect’ he thought to himself. Seconds soon became dozens of minutes as Solstafir remained motionless, even to the winds dominating will, entranced by the view.
Then, as if no time at all had passed, he snapped out of the daze. Shaking his head, his thoughts returned to him once more. The dampness of his cape, the drenched mop of hair on his head and the ceaseless, heavy downpour that beat against him sent a chill running through his body. With a heavy sigh he carried on his descent into the forest. With great speed, he soon reached the looming entrance to the forest. Its towering presence didn’t seem as terrifying as when he stood upon the mountain yet he had to enter it. He had faced far worse environments and he knew this would be no different.
Under the canopy, Solstafir shook himself violently in an attempt to rid himself of some of the moisture that had gathered around him. As he started to walk deeper into the maze of light and shadow, a soft sneeze left him as he muttered to himself, “Every time they send to a place like this, I make the same discovery. Rain is wet and I don’t like it.”
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