It took several more days, even with Lianna’s Forest Runner buff, for the small group to draw close to Verdantspire Haven. The mist still lay heavy on the forest floor the morning when Xavier and his companions finally emerged on one of the paths from the dense woodlands. Verdantspire stretched out beyond, a settlement born of living root, stone, and vine. Grown from and of the forest instead of imposed upon it.

  Above the majority of the buildings Xavier could feel as much as see the Lir’Valis, Verdantspire’s nexus of Ley lines. Its crystalline obelisk veined with the colors of the lines it was composed of, life, earth and air.

  The settlement breathed with quiet life even from a distance. Low curving buildings, some grown, others built, lay half sunk into the earth, bridges woven from vine and branch connecting upper floors to one another. The three distinct gardens that Xavier remembered from his first visit circled the center of the city in their intentional patterns. Lanterns of polished crystal illuminated the mists with a soft light breaking the last of the pre-dawn’s dim light, giving sure sight of the pathways without disturbing the spirit of the Silverwood. At Xavier’s side he could feel the tension drain out of Lianna when she beheld her home once again.

  Besides Lianna, Xavier could feel the tension lessening in the whole group. Ella brushed damp strands of hair from her face. Lythara’s crimson gaze swept over the settlement carefully. Even Sihri’s quick restless energy softened beneath her calm exterior. Frostclaw and Valkra were the only two seemingly unaffected. They moved with a casual predatory calm beside their chosen companions still watching the woods.

  It was only a few moments after they spotted Verdantspire before a birdcall broke the hush of the surroundings. It was too distinct to Xavier, too sharp. A signal. Mere seconds after its sound figures emerged from the trees and undergrowth like wraiths, Verdantspire Wardens silent and focused in their moss-cloaked forms. They were a cross-section of Verdantspire’s bloodlines: Lupari with their lean, wolfish grace; Falconi with sharp, alert eyes; and Duskhari moving like shades across the forest floor. The lead Warden, a Falconi whose cloak was streaked with silver threads, stepped forward, his spear in hand but angled harmlessly downward.

  An eyebrow raised slightly as he glanced to Xavier, Lianna and Ella. They were known and the fact that Lianna and Ella both wore a slave collar still gave him a momentary pause. Then his eyes shifted towards Sihri and Lythara. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he studied them. After a while he moved on from Sihri, she was clearly Animari and still wore a slave collar though he could feel the inherent danger in her she was not a threat. Lythara, however, he knew there was something much more dangerous about her than anyone else standing before him. His gaze hardened as his grip tightened on his spear until he forced himself to relax. She was traveling with known individuals, she was not threatening them, and they had accepted her. For now he would trust Xavier and his party. He relaxed his grip and spoke softly.

  "You are expected," he said simply, voice low and steady. "Come."

  Though his eyes flashed briefly to Lianna his attention remained on Xavier. There were no elaborate greetings, nor declarations. Verdantspire was a place of quiet actions, not empty ceremony. The Wardens fell into a loose escort around them, guiding the group deeper into the Haven’s living heart.

  As they moved, villagers began to gather along the edges of the paths they remembered those amongst this group who had returned captured friends and family. They had remembered the celebration and the quiet sendoff. Now they witnessed their return weeks later and were wary of the news they brought. Things had worsened during their absence and talk of war and raids were heard amidst them. Rumors traveled faster than feet and the throngs gathered to hear what news was brought.

  Xavier didn’t stop to meet the eyes of any of the Animari gathering around the procession. His mission wasn’t done yet and the satchel with the records felt like it carried the weight of the world in it on his shoulder.

  They passed down the same streets Xavier remembered leaving and through the central plaza where the Lyr’Valis hung moving towards a cluster of low, woven birch structures, it was where the council’s traditional meeting place stood, the sweat lodge.

  Built from living wood and layered hides, it sat low to the ground, smoke spiraling from a small vent at the top. The scent of cedar, burning sage, and fresh earth hung heavy in the damp air. Xavier knew it was a place of decision, of testing, of truth, and the Wardens brought them to its entrance, then stepped aside.

  Standing in front of the doors, flanked by the traditional guards, stood a diminutive figure that Xavier recognized. Kaelith Moonstride, the High Speaker. She was small, even for a Lynari, her silver-flecked hair braided tightly against her head, her lynx-tufted ears flicking subtly with each shift of the mist. Though she barely came up to Xavier’s chest, she carried herself with the assurance of someone who had seen storms far greater than any mortal army. Her golden eyes were sharp and clear, measuring Xavier and his companions without warmth, but also without immediate condemnation.

  "You were sent into the wildlands and darkness," Kaelith said quietly, her voice carrying through the morning air. "Have you returned with light, or only more shadows?"

  Xavier unslung his satchel anxious to be relieved of the weight of so many ledgers and documents of the Animari slaves that were carried within. “We have news and so much more.”

  Kaelith’s gaze remained on him for a heartbeat before she gestured to the entrance of the lodge. “Then come,” she said. “Let the council hear what you have brought.”

  With that she disappeared into the entrance of the lodge without waiting for a response from Xavier. The guards caught the flaps of the entrance and held them open for Xavier. As he stepped inside, the air shifted. It was hotter, thicker and tinged with burning herbs much like the last time he was there. Within, the Elders awaited, seated around a shallow pit of glowing stones, the heat and steam rising to curl between them.

  Here, judgement of what was brought would be passed, and the next steps forward would be decided.

  As Xavier took a seat in the spot opposite the Elders, the air pressed heavy to his skin. It was thick with herb-laden steam rising from the glowing bed of stones in the center. Cedar, sage, and other unknown herbs filled every breath and seeped into his clothing and skin alike. The Elder Council of Verdantspire sat silent and waiting for his report, their faces half-shrouded by the swirling steam.

  After he sat Xavier pulled his satchel forward to his lap, he could feel the magic that empowered its spatial bending properties. Likewise, he could feel beyond his own items and sundries the parchment and documents it carried. The centuries of broken oaths, stolen truths and bloodline descriptions.

  Carefully he withdrew several precisely chosen documents, a ledger bearing the names of various higher profile Animari captured and sold at auctions like the one he attended. A blood-sealed edict formalizing the laws targeting the Animari in general. And, finally, a coded letter hinting at the unseen powers that ruled Arenvalis from within.

  These exact documents he laid with reverence before the council. The rest, along with their weight of countless lives recorded in the ink and blood of their incarceration remained within the confines of his satchel. He then straightened and met the steady gaze of Kaelith before turning to lock eyes with each of the rest of the council nodding briefly in recognition of their authority in this domain.

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  “These are but a sliver,” he spoke softly. “I carry a full archive of information that there is not room to divest here but will give to you once we finish and your judgement is made.”

  Kaelith listened then nodded in assent. “Continue.”

  Xavier drew in a deep breath; he remembered the last time there were truth telling herbs mixed into the steam. He did not need them then nor did he need them now. The truth was something he wanted to tell them but knew they needed the reassurance. When he spoke it was with the conviction of his Tempered Liberator trait.

  “Slavery has long been legal not only in Arenvalis but Arath as a whole,” he began. “However, recently the blade of this system has been sharpened in the Wildlands and Arenvalis. The Animari are not mere victims of chance and place like other potential slaves, they have been targeted as prey by legal decree. Your kin are hunted, captured, sold as chattel all with the King’s seal branding each transaction as righteous and legitimate.”

  A low dangerous growl erupted from the Ursari Elder, Thror Ironpaw. The Cervari Elder, Sylara Dawnshade lowered her head in prayer a series of beads, well worn with use, played through her fingers as she did so.

  “Ironhaven stands at the crux of Arenvalis’ slave trade,” Xavier continued. “It uses these weaponized laws. Entire bloodlines have been cataloged, broken, and sold to the highest bidder with bureaucratic efficiency.” His hand rested on the ledger he had presented.

  He then went into details about what they had found in Ironhaven. He recounted the hidden paths they had walked, the spies they shadowed, the contacts they had made, and the guarded knowledge they had spirited away. Finally, he spoke of the Animari they had been able to quietly save during their time in the depths of the city. After it all he pressed forward, his voice hardened with his resolve.

  “King Rorik is still alive and normatively on the throne, but he does not rule freely from there. Ivarik Tharn and his hidden collective move within and behind the court. Their unseen hands are guiding Arenvalis into deeper darkness than ever.”

  It had not seemed possible, but the air of the lodge grew thicker as steam coiled and pressed down like a living thing gorged on the weight of his story.

  “We freed those that we could,” Xavier grimly admitted. “But the network is vaster than we could have anticipated. A single strike at its heart would have doomed us all to slaughter. We chose to bring back truth to you instead of ashes.”

  Kaelith leaned forward, one arm reached over the hot stones and with a single claw she drew the blood edict closer to her and into the center. She let the heat blacken the edges of the document, the steam rising caused the markings to run and ruin. The action was simple, unmistakable. She accepted the truth he brought and was determined to bring about its ruin.

  Looking up from what she had done Kaelith’s eyes met Xaviers. Her voice filled the lodge with clear tones like iron striking stone. “You have honored your word Lordling.”

  With that simple statement a new prompt filled Xavier’s vision.

  Dismissing the prompt after he quickly read it Xavier was left with only the dense herb-sweetened steam and the steady gaze of those arrayed before him.

  Kaelith sat back, once more flanked by the rest of the council, her voice was steady but laden with portent.

  “This part of your journey has ended,” she said. “But the root of the issue remains. So long as King Rorik is bound by unseen chains, the suffering and enslavement of the Animari will endure.”

  The Falconi Elder, Arven Flamefeather’s voice cut through the thick air. It was low and grim as he spoke. “If Rorik’s crown is bound to another, Arenvalis is already lost.”

  Veyara Frostwhisper, the Iskari Elder, spoke next, her voice colder than Arven’s. “If he can not be set free, then the kingdom must be brought down, before it drags us all into ruin.”

  Kaelith lifted her hand motioning the others to silence. The steam swirled round her catching the dull red glow of the stones and painting her fur in shifting hues highlighting its natural silver color.

  “There may still be a chance of hope. If King Rorik can be freed from Tharn’s grip we may yet see our kin freed without the cost of war.” Her golden eyed gaze centered on Xavier once more. “We have a harder road, a new charge to offer you.”

  There was a hiss of steam as Sylara added another ladle full of herb-infused water to the bed of rocks. Another wave of scented water vapor filled the already heavy air.

  Kaelith continued, “Will you walk deeper into the shadows over the wildlands?”

  Xavier took several long moments reading and rereading the prompt before him. The steam in the lodge thickened, golden tendrils of light filtered in adding to the ambiance of waiting. The stones red core glowed brighter. The council waited, seemingly holding their breath along with the world itself. Xavier knelt near the center of the lodge; the weight of the choice loomed heavy on his shoulders… but he knew there was no real choice for him in this instance. He thought about Ironhaven, those broken and bound there. He thought of all that might be lost, families broken, innocence taken. He also thought about all that could potentially be saved.

  His voice, when he spoke finally, was low and unwavering. “If we stop now, everything we have fought for will be nothing but ash. If we turn away those still bound are left to suffer.”

  The steam seemed to take on a life of its own wrapping around him like a shroud of righteous fury. “I will take this path and walk it wherever it demands.”

  A ripple passed through the council, slow bobs of their head in acceptance. Kaelith deliberately inclined her head to him.

  “Then Verdantspire Haven stands with you Xavier of Rynthavael.”

  One by one, the Elders assented. Ironpaw gave a low grunt of approval. Dawnshade whispered a blessing. Even Frostwhisper gave a terse nod, blade sharp, of approval.

  Kaelith spoke once more after the councils’ actions. “By the will of Verdantspire and the ley lines of old, let it be witnessed that there is an alliance between our people and those of Rynthavael.”

  The stones hissed anew as fresh water struck them. Outside a new heavy wind began to stir in the ancient woods. No longer a whispering breeze but rising to a true wind, ominous portent of the next chapter of Xavier’s journey, into the shadow, into a future yet unwritten. Fate was twisting around him and not even the gods could see what was to come.