The Fall of Avondale
The Forest Weeps as The Rot Devours All
Welcome, weary traveler. You find yourself in the company of Finton Merrybrook, the greatest storyteller in all of D’veen! You look tired, please sit. I just finished preparing supper; you’re welcome to partake as well.
I can see in your eyes that you have traveled far. I must admit, my curiosity bade me ask what has brought you to my doorstep, but I know better than to question the wiles of fate’s design.
Can I offer you a drink? Something to take the edge off. We live in uncertain times, with destruction and death on our backs. Surely you saw the ruins of Avondale forest on your way here? The Rot still holds those dead trees hostage, even after all these years.
What’s that, you say? You crossed paths with an elf? Impossible, the elves all died alongside that sentient forest they called home. Not even their eternal god, the World Tree, could have survived the unrelenting hunger of The Rot.
Of course, that’s what the historians and town criers will tell you, but their knowledge pales in comparison to mine. You have come here seeking truths, and I have many to offer. Grab your drink and get comfortable; let me tell you the true story of Avondale’s fall…
***
Sarai Rashan’s aim was true as she held her bow. The tip of her arrow was aimed squarely at Talia Asterborn, Guardian of the Chornoscepter and enforcer of the Galad Council. Once filled with endless blue, Talia’s eyes were now as black as the night sky.
She wept inky tears that ran down her face. A velvet ichor bubbled from her lips as she moved with an unsteady and uncertain gait.
“Come no closer, Talia! I don’t want to hurt you!” Sarai shouted.
Talia smiled through stained teeth. “Talia Asterborn is no more. You address the devourer, the endless hunger, the infernal Rot.”
“Why have you come to Avondale? What is your purpose?” Sarai asked.
“We hunger, and in Avondale, there is bountiful sustenance. Consciousness is delicious, and your trees are rich with it.”
Tears rolled down Sarai’s cheeks. She could feel the pain of the forest around her. The trees of Avondale were all reincarnated souls of elves that had long since passed.
Their branches were limbs, their leaves fingertips. They felt both joy and sorrow; they had hopes and dreams. They were sacred to the elven people.
Their cries echoed through Sarai’s mind as The Rot tore them asunder. She let out a sigh to clear her mind.
“Be free, Talia Asterborn. Your duty is done.”
Talia screeched as Sarai let loose her arrow. It flew straight and true, landing in the soft flesh beneath her jaw. Talia ripped the arrow from her neck as black insects gushed from the open wound.
Sarai stepped backward and notched another arrow, aiming for Talia’s heart. She pulled back and let it fly without hesitation. It reached its mark, and Tali Asterborn was no more.
Her body tore open. All black as night, spiders, beetles, and centipedes devoured her from within—the Rot’s true form.
Sarai stored her bow on her back beside a quiver that held only four arrows. She leapt over the spreading insects and climbed a nearby tree. As her hands grazed its bark, she felt its thoughts whispering in her mind:
Leave us!
You must save the World Tree.
Avondale is lost…
Sarai climbed to the top of the tree and pushed through the soft leaves of the canopy. In the distance, rising above the rest of Avondale Forest, the World Tree commanded the skyline. Its branches spread out in all directions like arms large enough to embrace all elven people.
Every elf was born with a connection to the World Tree. One which strengthened with time. As Sarai laid eyes on it, she heard its voice:
The Rot cannot be stopped, my child.
“What would you have me do?” Sarai asked.
The faithful have brought me the Chronoscepter.
It must not fall into the hands of The Rot.
It must escape Avondale.
“Your will be done.”
Sarai ducked back into the confines of the forest. The ground was covered in writhing black masses of insects. She stayed within the branches of the trees where she spent most of her childhood. To her, navigating them was as natural as walking.
She leaped from tree to tree, reaching the forest's center. Her mind was filled with the thoughts of the forest:
I can feel their gnashing teeth!
This is the end.
What have we done to deserve this?
I have no tears, and yet I weep.
We cannot stop The Rot!
Please end our suffering…
Confusion, pain, sorrow. A maelstrom of agony filled Sarai’s thoughts as she reached the towering roots of the World Tree. The Rot had yet to reach this sacred place, but she knew it was only a matter of time.
“World Tree, you called, and I have come!”
Indeed. You are a good and faithful servant, Sarai.
“What now?”
The base of the World Tree pulled itself open with a groan. From deep within, the Chronoscepter emerged. It was a wooden staff carved from the World Tree, atop which sat the greatest treasure of the elves.
It was said that the Chronoscepter could change history at a great cost. The metal sphere atop the staff came from another world. It was a strange and terrifying technology that precious few understood. Sarai had never seen it used, but she knew it must escape Avondale before The Rot could seize it.
Sarai of the Elven house Rashan, you are hereby marked as the new guardian of the Chronoscepter.
Sarai took the staff in her hands. The metal orb that sat at its peak buzzed with a strange energy.
“If the Chronoscepter can change the past, should I not use it to undo this destruction?” Sarai asked.
Others have already tried. If such a task can be accomplished, it will take more time than we have. You must flee Avondale.
“You would have me run as my people are devoured?” Sarai asked.
I would have you seek a way to undo this tragedy! I would have you live to fight another day.
Sarai collapsed. The pain of the forest, of her people, was too much to bear. She sobbed as she fell against the warm bark of the World Tree.
“I cannot; this burden is too much to bear,” she cried.
You can, my daughter. You must. You carry with you the hopes and dreams of an entire people.
“And what if I cannot undo this? What if I fail to bring our people back?”
Then, you will ensure their stories are not lost to The Rot.
Sarai wiped the tears from her eyes and stood on shaking legs. She held the Chronoscepter tight, summoning what strength she had left.
“What about you?” she asked.
I will trap The Rot within my branches and stop it from spreading beyond Avondale.
“How long can you contain it?” Sarai asked.
As long as I must. Now go!
Sarai slid the Chronoscepter beneath her quiver and tightened the straps. She laid her hand on the World Tree one last time.
“I’ll come back for you. I promise.”
She turned and leaped back into the trees, staying far above the ground as she headed for the edge of Avondale. As her feet landed on solid ground, she turned and looked back into the forest she had always called home.
She stood there until the voices inside her head went quiet. Her connection with the World Tree was faint, almost invisible. She waited until the sun set on D’veen, casting an orange glow across the withering leaves.
As promised, the Rot did not leave the borders of the forest. The story of the elves was done, but Sarai’s tale was just beginning…
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About the Creator
Bradley Ramsey
Lover of dogs, gaming, and long walks on the beach. Content Marketing Manager by day, aspiring writer by night. Long time ghostwriter, finally stepping into the light. Alone, we cannot change this world, but we can create better ones.
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Comments (1)
Dark and full of tension - I enjoyed this story a lot!