The first copies of the testament were not books. They were four scrolls, each housed in a simple, unadorned wooden case carved from the petrified wood of the blighted lands—a final piece of that world, repurposed into a vessel for its story. Lysander's was ash, grain straight and true. Corvin's was a darker, stubborn oak. Seraphine's was pale, smooth birch. Elara's was a piece of bog-willow, light yet impossibly strong.
The messengers from the other Free Cities—hard-eyed men and women from stone fortresses in the mountains, shrewd delegates from river-trading hubs, weathered representatives from desert enclaves—gathered in the Council chamber. They had expected a declaration of victory, perhaps a show of newfound power. They expected the legendary Lightbearer to bestow upon them a weapon or a shield against the dark.
Instead, Master Theron presented them with the four cases.
