2.05 - Fire Rifts

On the surface, everything in Silverwood appeared as it had 20 years ago.  The forest was just as lush and vibrant as it always had been.  Yet something lying just under the surface disturbed her.   Anneleigh could not put her finger on exactly what had changed but could feel it in the air as she walked from tree to tree deep in the woods.  There were fewer animals, to be sure, and those that Anneleigh did come across seemed strange, almost unnatural.  There was also a peculiar heat that never truly seemed to dissipate. 

On her third night in the forest, she found the answer.  Deep asleep in one of her favorite silver birch trees, Anneleigh was roused by the stampede of feet passing below her.  She jumped gracefully from the branch and started walking in the direction the dear and squirrels were fleeing.   Whatever the cause, she needed to know before deciding on a course of action.  She rose over the next mound and was slammed by a heat wall and blinding light.  Immediately she knew the cause.  The light was the same sort emitting from the sliver allowing the specter of Maelforge to enter the woods.

After giving her eyes time to adjust, Anneleigh was able to see this was no ordinary sliver; this was a full scale rift, similar to the death rift caused by Orphiel, Aedraxis and the machines so many years ago.  Anneleigh looked around for the cause of this rift, a machine, a defiant sorcerer, a cultist.  There was nothing to be found but flame, rock and destruction.   Imps and beings of pure flame poured from the rift, entering silverwood on such a level that, if not stopped, would surly over run the forest in a matter of hours.

Without pausing to consider further, Anneleigh took up her daggers and began to cut down the invaders.  Blow after blow, the inhabitants of the plane of fire fell, but their numbers seemed to grow, rather than diminish.  The battle was hard.  Anneleigh lost just as much energy to the searing heat as to the fight itself.  After what felt like hours, but really was only mere minutes, she noticed the numbers finally dwindling.  Her efforts finally seemed to be making an impact.  Soon, the rift began to tremble and, before her eyes, sealed itself into the calm night sky.  The cold, fresh air that rushed into the area to take the place of heat and fire was so refreshing Anneleigh found herself drinking it in with large gulps. 

Desperate now for a good restful sleep, Anneleigh decided to make the short walk to Argent Glade, a small settlement built by the high elves to better honor Tavril.  In her past, she had not frequented the village often, preferring the outdoors and natural protection of tree cover.  However, after being awoken from sleep so violently an hour before, no one could blame her for wanting the comfort of a cold drink, a soft bead and a roof guarded by Guardian soldiers.  She knew she would find a more peaceful sleep without the care of self defense.