Arweinydd tried to control his anger, but it came to no avail. A wave of emotion washed over him, consuming the elf lord with pure fury. He clenched his fists tightly; the sinews tightening under the strain, his forearms bulging under the pressure. His armour dropped from a brilliant cyan hue to a deep navy, and it pulsed as if alive and struggling to breathe. As his fingers slapped his palms, the ground underneath him trembled, rocking the loose charred earth above. Fissures opened in the surrounding earth as large shards of crystal burst forth, their formation resembling an open lotus. He silently roared with anger and horror within, his emotions running uncontrolled – unprecedented within the elven race. Not only had Raazik welcomed himself within him homelands once more, but he had mocked the elven race, destroyed their most beloved sanctuary, and stolen one of their own (one of his own …). This crime could not be left unpunished.

Though pacifistic in nature, the subjects of Seren were known to resort to aggression where need was dire. Not even Seren could question the use of violence for protection and preservation. Rhoswen must be retrieved; her presence is vital to the wellbeing of Tirannwn. Arweinydd released his grip, and the crystal columns sank back to the depths of the earth. His rage melted giving way to collected thoughts once more. The crystal armour brightened and radiated, illuminating the blacked ground below. Arweinydd glanced around the clearing. The lonesome tree stood at the heart of the clearing untouched by the onslaught of the abyssal inferno. Around it the ground was bare, covered in a thin layer of soot and ash. The pool was mostly depleted, boiled away by the flames; though its basin was beginning to fill once more as clear water fell from the roots and bark above. The dense wall of trees surrounding were partially charred, however the healing process had already begun.

Arweinydd could not leave the sanctuary in such a state. It had flourished in solitude for so long, it would be a travesty to see it laid waste to and abandoned within a fraction of the time. He threw his right hand across the air in front, driving his arm in a long arc. Minute fragments of crystal, as fine as dust, broke from his armour and trailed in as thick tail of mist behind, falling and casing the blackened ground below. Where the mist had permeated into the soot and soil, a sporadic carpet of green had begun to sprout. Arweinydd whispered to it, encouraging it with gentle and nurturing chants. The flora responded and began to thicken and spread; it would take time to reach its previous glory. But, confident with the clearings gradual return to life, Arweinydd beckoned the thick wall to open once more, and darted through the tunnel within.

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Rhoswen struggled in the chains she was bound with - frustrated at both the mahjarrat’s trickery and his blind insult of having his lackey drag her down into these abyssal catacombs, as if she were little more than one of the many slaves the Zarosians once commanded. The surrounding caves were barely illuminated, lit only by faint embers which dotted the walls. There were vines and roots woven into the stone walls, which brought slight comfort to her uneasiness. But, the comfort did not last. As she reached out with her essence she could feel the taint deep within its bark. The plants and stone walls reeked of abyssal energy, putrescent and vile. Dark magic creped out of the walls and plants, and into the air surrounding. It clashed against her own aura forming the torrent of mixing energy which sat heavy in the air with a deathly ambience and crawled across her skin in a thick miasma. It made her sick to the core. 

She squirmed under the discomfort, trying to escape. The magic followed her with each movement, plunging her into deeper nausea. It stuck to her as tight and resolute as the chains tied around her arms and legs. Her struggle subsided as she came to terms with her inability to avoid the sickening air, instead sitting still and depressed. Being so distant from the familiar and warm elven lands had weakened her. She longed for its embrace once more. The lively atmosphere of the Tirannwn woods brought about a deeper energy which extended her reach, but in these caves the still shadows and darkness instead drained what arcane energy remained within her. Rhoswen tried once more to push out with her essence in an attempt to view the distant elven lands and contact Arweinydd. As she pushed through the thick and heavy atmosphere in the cave, the walls blocked her passage. Even the roots and vines appeared to shroud her escape. 

“Fine. So be it, you aberrant creatures of the abyss.” She spoke furiously to herself. “You hide yourself within the familiar disguise of roots and viles, yet your core is just as recognisably black as the abyssal demons themselves!”

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Arweinydd arrived at a seemingly unimpressive area of the forest. The trees grew tall and parallel to each other, whilst the canopy below was devoid of structures, elven craft, or even ruins. To the untrained eye, and even to the majority of the elven kind, the trees surrounding were no different to the many thousands dotting the Isafdar province. But, Arweinydd knew better. To hide something of true importance was to hide it clandestinely. The elf lord paced up to one of the many long tall trunks and waved his hands over its bark. Ancient elven runes materialised and glowed incandescently in a brilliant cyan hue as his hands waved over them, wrapping the tree trunk in a web of cryptic sigils. At the centre sat elven script which read ‘Peace and Growth’. The elf placed his large hand on the writing and whispered in a chant beyond the ears of normal hearing.

Here his hand hovered, the bark beneath cracked and spiralled around the trunk and down to the roots below, before returning up the trunk several centimetres away and joining the crack further up at an apex. The cracks formed long tendrils of bark, which wrapped around and clasped the tree like an octopus clasping a log. Within moments of forming, the fissures in the bark separated and the long tendrils of bark slithered down to the earth below like snakes into a bush, exposing the crystal core within. The inside of the trunk was lined with a thick crystalline wall which illuminated the crystal slabs forming a spiral staircase beneath. Arweinydd stepped into the tree and began to descend the stairs. As he sank into the shadows below, the long bark tendrils slithered from their resting place and back into place, forming the seamless bark trunk once more.