The older elf frowned slightly. "The border patrols warn of wild mana storms near the southern roots. It may be too dangerous."
Lindarion's tone didn't waver. "Good."
Thalan hesitated, then nodded. "As you wish, my prince."
When the field finally emptied and dusk began to settle, Lindarion remained where he stood. The light through the branches dimmed to amber, and the wind whispered soft songs that almost sounded like voices. The world tree hummed faintly behind the forest, distant, eternal, yet ever aware.
He closed his eyes briefly.
The mana that flowed through him now was… different. Since his blessing within the World Tree, it felt deeper, like he stood between two pulses, mortal and divine. When he breathed, he could hear the heartbeat of the forest and his own as one.
And yet, beneath it all, there was dissonance.
The forest sang, but somewhere in that song was a wrong note, faint, buried, but there.
He opened his eyes again, gaze sharpening.
