One of the crones cries out in surprise as the kestrel dives toward the central portal and is consumed in a sea of gold.

The kestrel zooms out of the portal’s golden shimmer and into another Vu Trin base located in a cavern cut into pale white stone. One of the soldiers yelps, startled, as the kestrel darts through a tunnel and out into the balmy dampness of an overcast dawn, the forest no longer purple but a rich, inviting green. Following the Wand’s pull, the bird flies away from the hidden base, setting a long course under the clouds.

After a time, the skies clear and the parallel Spine mountain ranges come into view, their pale ridges bracketed by thick forest. The kestrel wings due west, following the Northern Spine. As the sun dips low in the sky, the bird notices a dark fog massed over its central peaks, tendriling up to the heavens. The kestrel startles, instinctively registering what this is.

The Shadow Thing.

The bird veers north, giving the fog a wide berth as it follows the Wand’s pull northwest then due north, leaving the Spines and the fog far behind.

After a few days, the bird wings low through a rosy twilight. Darting through silver-tipped Alfsigr Pine trees, the kestral eventually dives down, following the path of a woodland stream. A painful spark of energy flashes through the kestrel’s feet. Its talons splay open and it drops the Wand from its grip.

The Wand hits the stream’s water and is drawn into its current as the kestrel arcs up and soars back East.

The Verdyllion draws its power down.

Surrendering to the pull of the current, its spiraling form is carried through the forest. Rocks halt its trajectory, and it lodges between two river-slick stones.

Summoning stored runic power, the Verdyllion lights up bright green, then blue, then silver, the power it drew from the Black Witch’s rune markings coursing through it as it sends out a blast of air from its tip, forcing itself free of the rocks. Pulling momentarily against the current, it glides toward the center of the stream.

Its runic power spent, the Wand drifts downstream before reaching a spiraling whirlpool. It begins to rotate, the surrounding forest spinning faster and faster then disappearing as the Forest Wand is sucked down and down.

Into the sublands below.

THE ABYSS

Wynter Eirllyn

Maeloria, capital city of Alfsigroth
One week post-Xishlon

Wynter Eirllyn rasps out a cry as the silver rope around her neck gives a merciless tug. She stumbles forward, almost falling face-first onto the opalescent tiles, her Amaz garb filthy and torn, bloody welts oozing across her tattered wings. Veins of Shadow burrow under her skin.

Filthy Icaral, filthy Icaral rings in her devastated mind along with the horrific image of the Mages and Marfoir killing noble Queen Alkaia, driving insectile legs through her body again and again...