Xaya’s Epilogue:
A faint, ghostly recording lingers in the air, caught like a whisper in the threads of magic.
“As the realm trembles in its last breaths before the shift…” Xaya’s voice, soft yet steady, seems to drift from nowhere and everywhere. “Ah, so the world’s to be swept clean again, is it? All things fading to mist—stories turning to whispers, whispers to silence.”
A pause, and there’s a sense of her glancing around, as if she can see her listeners through the veil. Her voice deepens, a glint of knowing in her tone.
“Hold close what ye can’t bear to lose,” she murmurs, a hint of a grin in her words.
“For when the trees whisper again, I’ll be here… right where the magic left off.”
Her last words fade with a chuckle, drifting like a wisp of smoke:
“Till we meet again, old friends… in whatever shape that may be…”
Fyn’s Last Journal Entry Before the Floods:
The ink bleeds slightly as if touched by rain, yet the words hold steady against the coming tide.
“I was haunted by a vision of blue flames scorching across the land, burning everything in its path, and as I stood amongst the ash, I noticed a faint glimmer in the distance… I do not know who else to confide in except for Xaya. I feel troubled by the dreams I have had, I have spoken with my sister and chosen to venture into the wilds, seeking insight from the great Owl himself. Xaya understands, she has seen similar visions but she calls it The Great Flood, and though she seems optimistic of where the road will lead, I feel uncertain… I find it unsettling that her visions speak of a flood, while all I see is death & ashes. In the Wilds, I meditate, I hunger, I wait…
The Great Owl’s grace shines upon me, and I know what must be done… He tells me our place is amongst the ones we have met since we all arrived, amongst those who first took me in when I arrived in Tursan without my Coven… Those who showed compassion and helped. Xaya knows… She waits for my return… I must wait out the storm, wait till the flooding passes, and return to Tursan.”