Acacia Chronicle

Deep in the heart of Purity Forest…

Perhaps the name once meant something on the world of Melodia in centuries past, long before the time of Elicia and the coming of the Hellbourne. A moniker perhaps, by the men and elves of old, once made in celebration and reverence of a verdant and sacred grove. Where life, unblemished by the eldritch sins of the mortal races, could be seen, heard, sensed, and touched.

Since then, since the day the first Lord General of the Black Legion laid claim to the lands surrounding this Forest as part of the dominion that he and his successors would come to rule in Elicia's holy name, the name had remained. Perhaps as a sarcastic jab at all that it once was, compared to the bleakened landscape of the present where dead trees dotted the snow like splinters sticking out of a corpse. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a glimmer of hope for better days, one that might come by means of mortal hands if only to close shut the wounds of war for good. With, or regardless of the Hellbourne.

After all, the Forest was healing. This, Elena noted to herself as she trudged through the deadened landscape with her hooded red longcoat while Claire followed close by, dressed in cleric robes of red and saffron. The villagers of the human settlement by the forest’s edge, she had noted as well, were dedicated to this phenomena, for the devatas of the Central Church posted here who worked on the restoration efforts of Purity Forest at the Black Legion’s mercy were more like tribal shamans and druids, a far cry from the men and women in holy robes that they were in the Ecclesiarch’s lands. And by their combined hands, the poisoned and dead flora of old within the exterior were slowly making way for new life, even if the inner portions of the Forest's once pure heart remained rotten to the core.

Indeed, most of Purity Forest remained uninhabitable. Or even safe for passage, for that matter. Deeper in, it was colder than ever before, and the once clear paths of snow amidst dead trees from just paces before were gone, leaving only a near-impenetrable thicket of corrupted vegetation and foul snow with paths both winding and darker than the night sky. And it would have been completely unnavigable, were it not for the Beholder's Mark etched upon the flesh of Elena's hand that held a link to the last Keeper of the Forest, the ancient being who was now a Vizier of Nhaka Mezalune, their pact sealed long before Elena's in the days of the Corruption. 

Or at least, the Beholder's Mark held within it what remained of the Keeper who had consigned herself here long after the wars of old. If only, to commune with the once green land of her birth so as to aid the devatas and their efforts to heal the land and its corrupted acres that she as a fallen ancient could no longer mend all by herself.

“Her name’s Elan,” Elena said to Claire as her servant did her best to keep up despite the greatsword slung upon her back. “Now, they call her by another name. Heard she doesn’t take too kindly to that one, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Deadwood.”

“Well… if she’s a fellow Vizier of the Eye,” Claire asked innocently as they reached a clearing where before them stood what appeared the dead husk of once great willow tree felled upon the poisoned earth. “Is she a friend of yours?”

“Not really, no. When she was still the Keeper, let’s just say I had some… history with her. Not the good kind, by the way.”

“Well, I…”

As Claire spoke, the snow beneath her feet began to tremble. Before she could make sense of what was going on, she let out a scream as an array of deadened and gnarled roots sprang forth from the dead earth beneath the snow and ice, seizing her within its rotten grasp that reeked nauseatingly with the stench of death and decay.

“Elena!”

She reached for the greatsword slung upon her back, only to feel the tautness of rotting roots hold her limbs back from any discernible action. And when this failed her, she looked to Elena, at the charred remains of those summoned roots that had gone for her mistress, and at the conjured blade of fire burning bright in her gloved hand as she raised it up towards the remaining roots that had taken her servant.

“Another move… and the mortal dies…”

The feminine being who said those words let them out with a deep and hollow rumbling akin to the creaking of wood echoing within an endless chasm. Despite this, it held within it a sliver of the grace and gentleness that Elena remembered it to possess in centuries past, and she stayed the burning blade conjured within her hand as she watched her fellow Vizier and former enemy emerge from the darkness of the deadened vegetation ahead.

“Interesting… the Lich… the Soul Reaper of Eldia. She cares about this… mortal…”

Elena frowned as she returned the black gaze of hollow eyes that she remembered to be green with an emerald sheen. The lady-like nymph with hair red like fire who had appeared before her was unmistakbly Elan, the Keeper of the Forest. And yet, her once serene beauty was now marred with patches of petrified and corrupted bark upon her face and body that protected her otherwise naked body like corrupted armour. For such was the fate of the fallen ancient who was now known to the mortals beyond Purity Forest as Deadwood, the undead husk of the last Keeper of the Forest. The last, because ever since the time of Elicia, Sophia was no more.

“Cares enough… to stay the same hand that would murder hundreds without a thought… to make her hesitate… to make her consider…”

“We’re now on the same side, Elan,” Elena stated brusquely. “Let. Her. Go.”

“Gladly…”

With a snap of her fingers, the dead roots that held Claire so firmly within their rotting grasp retreated back beneath the snow. As she watched Elena rush forward to catch her servant as she fell towards the snow, Elan let out a deep growling noise that sounded to the both of them like a mockery of mortal laughter.

“You care about this... innocent mortal…” Elan remarked. “Why…?”

“Probably the same reason why you like your trees so much,” Elena stated matter-of-factly. “Honestly though, it’s none of your business.”

“Truly… has the Soul Reaper changed…? As I too, have...”

“Yes. Elena has changed,” Claire interjected, the act of which drew Elan’s hollow gaze towards her. “I believe in her.”

“Believe… in her…? You know not… the monster… the sinner you misplace your faith in...! She… will… betray… you… when the time comes…”

“I don’t think so,” Claire stated as she looked towards Elena, towards the gaze of her mistress’s crimson eyes that remained affixed upon Elan's every move. “And even if it’s so, I owe my life to her.”

To that, Elan said nothing. She shuffled her ancient form slightly, her eyeless and hollow gaze upon Claire as she did.

“Such mortal foolishness… so similar… like he who I once loved…”

“Anyway,” Elena said to Elan. “Now that we’re through with our pleasantries and all that, I trust you know why I’m here to see ya.”

“Of course…” Elan uttered in reply as she walked up to her fellow Vizier, who matched her every step as they met in the middle of their respective paths. “You seek… your weapon… against…”

She opened up her right hand, extending it towards Elena as she revealed a stone that pulsated strongly with a luminous shade of green upon her palm where the etching of the Beholder Mark could been seen carved on her magical flesh amidst patches of corrupted bark, forming the shape of the arcane eye that belonged to the Beholder that served Elicia as her Eye.

“The enemy… as Lady Mezalune commands us to act in her stead…”

Wordlessly, Elena all but swiped the glowing seed from Elan’s palm. It felt hot, its life energy burning itself through her glove as if to make itself known upon her undead hands. With a frown, she placed it into a pouch, pulling its string to seal it shut immediately. Truth be told, it was not exactly what she would have preferred, but such was the will of her Archon mistress, the Lady Mezalune. If only, to protect the lands held by Arcadia from further destruction. There was said to be a wall of magical thorns surrounding where she had to go within Wintervale. Fire magic, destructive as it could be in clearing such obstacles, would have its ramifications known to those who remained long after the ongoing incident was settled.

On the other hand, nature, magical or not, remained within the domain of the Keeper of the Forest, undead or not. And it would bow to her will, even after what had come to pass. That, Elena was sure, of which was more than good enough for what was needed for this one mission. Enough to warrant visiting an old enemy who was now an ally by circumstances beyond them both. For indeed, such was the will of the Eye of Elicia.

“Regardless, it’s nice to see ya,” Elena remarked dryly to Elan. “Good luck with…”

She took a quick glance at the dead trees around the clearing that led to darker portions of Purity Forest, and at the dead husk of the once great willow tree in the heart of it all just before them. And then right into the hollow gaze of Elan, the undead husk of the Keeper of the Forest. Or, as the mortals would come to call her far beyond earshot, Deadwood.

“Whatever it is you’re doing with this... place. I saw what you've gotten done with the devatas, and I'm glad you're doing it. So, farewell.”

“Of course…” Elan uttered as she watched Elena and Claire leave by the way they came, on the path leading out of the heart of Purity Forest and towards the settlement residing at its edge. “Leave…”

For the rest of the trip out towards the village, Elena and Claire said nothing as they made their way through malformed nature and dead scenery alike. As soon as the corrupted vegetation had given way to the sight of makeshift nurseries bearing young saplings nestled amidst an otherwise clear path forward, Claire quickened her pace, tapping her mistress upon her red shoulders.

“Soul Reaper… was that it?” Claire teased with a light smile. “They called you that, back then.”

“My enemies did, yeah. What about it?”

“It’s a nice name. They must've feared it.”

Elena shrugged her shoulders.

“It's like a stage name, I guess? Like Elician Jewel. Now though, I’m just Elena de L’Enfer. But really, I was never fond of that other name. A little too on the nose, don’t ya think?”

“Maybe,” Claire said in reply, her smile giving way to unease as she watched her mistress walk off. “But anyway…”

“Yeah?” Elena asked as she turned around. “What’s up?”

“About what Dead… I mean Elan. What she said… about you.”

“Yeah?”

“She wasn’t being very clear, but… you hurt her? In the past, when you were… the Soul Reaper.”

“Yup, I did. As part of the elixir that, well… made me who I am,” Elena said in reply after a while’s worth of contemplation. “I stole a couple of sacred artifacts from Purity Forest to be distilled as alchemical ingredients, because Amon likes it a lot when you desecrate the stuff held dear by her enemies. Y’know, I was an aspiring Lich and a power-hungry sorcerer back then, and Elan was the Keeper of the Forest standing in my way. She wasn’t about to hand over what I wanted even if I asked nicely.”

“She said you betrayed…”

Much to Claire’s dismay, Elena nodded grimly.

“I brought my minions there with me, promising them whatever they wanted. Y’know, the usual stuff mortals would die for, like riches and power. Those who didn’t become candy right off the bat for the damned place and its lesser guardians, I left behind to die at Elan’s hands. At the height of her power, when I was still a mortal sorcerer, I couldn’t possibly defeat her.”

When Claire remained silent, Elena grimaced.

“But now that I'm a Lich, who knows? Still, yeah. Like many others, that wasn’t one of my proudest moments.”

“And you said Elan was the Keeper of the Forest, and that she's not anymore? Was that because… of you?

Elena furrowed her brow and crossed her arms.

“Oh, that? I’m actually just as confused as you are. For sure! I certainly expected her to be less like… that. Y’know… I haven’t been out around here for centuries. A whole lot of the world just passed me by.”

“I see,” Claire said with a smile, as her mistress began walking upon the path onward once more. “But I just wanted to say…”

Having barely taken but a few steps forward, Elena turned around again to face her servant.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t believe what Elan says. That you’ll betray me, when the time comes. I don’t.”

“Why’s that?”

Claire walked up to Elena and placed the warmth of her hands upon the left hand of her mistress, where beneath lay the Beholder's Mark etched upon her undead flesh. She smiled as her brown eyes took in the sight of necromantic green blushed upon her mistress’s cheeks.

“You’re still Elena, aren’t you?”

“Hey, what can I say?” Elena said with a smile, looking deep into her servant's eyes. “I’m still the one and only.”