The evening in Veynar didn't bring the peaceful silence Sol had expected from a city built into a forest of giant trees. Instead, the air was heavy with the thrum of the Great Heartwood's pulse and the distant, rhythmic chanting of the Shamanic circle trying to stabilize the city's defense wards.
Sol stood on the balcony of the Feline Spire, his bare feet resting on the cool, mossy wood. The guest house was a masterpiece of primitive luxury… furs of beasts that looked like they could eat a man whole, bioluminescent lanterns that cast a soft, emerald glow, and a view that stretched across the silver-leafed canopy of the Orrath Forest.
From there, he could only see the vast jungle… a living ocean of silver, green and various other colors mixed together, its canopy shifting like waves under the wind. It shimmered in pale light, beautiful yet subdued, as if the forest itself mourned.
