Chapter Text
“Sound the alarm!”
“Ring the bells!”
“The Light of the Spirit Tree has vanished!”
A sundering cacophony of resounding tolls. Orders barked amid thunderous footfalls. The starry midnight silence of the savannah is shattered with the permeating, fermenting air of despair.
“Fan out and find the Light!”
“It could not have gone far!”
“Is an intruder in our midst?”
“How could this have happened?!”
Like a cave of frenzied emberbats, the interior walls of Korios City flicker with the light of spirits and lanterns. A multitude of hooves and paws mad-dash and skitter against the ant nest network of cobblestone roads. It is in moments like this that the deepest rooms of the heart are opened and revealed; where wisdom weeps in the street.
“Grab as much food as you can, hurry!”
“Close the shop, close the shop!”
“We must leave the city!”
“Do not interfere with the guard! Back, back!”
Separated in the chaos, a moki cub's cries for her mother are drowned in the din.
Similar wails ring out towards the god-shaped hole that once was the Light's Cradle. The veins of glowing mana that run through the Spirit Baobab’s branches begin to sputter and dim; wood once magical now mundane. Its children, those present in the Glade, can only embrace each other and watch as their mother dies a slow death before them, with the knowledge that they will soon follow hanging over their heads like a sword on a string.
Doom is at hand. All on this night believe this to be so.
Save for one. There is always one.
A lone figure flings open the door to their office. Their cloak is ripped off their back and thrown onto a nearby rack, causing it to teeter and rock before it keep its footing and returns to its original stance. Urgent hoofsteps echo across their sandstone abode as they cross the width of the room.
“My invention will save them all.”
This mantra resonates like the knell of the tolling bells. They approach their desk and set a lantern upon it, casting a much needed glow across the cluttered work surface.
“My invention will save us all.”
Their latest project sits before them in silent, blissful dormancy. It just needs one more component, one more adjustment, a series of clicks and taps … and it is done.
“I will save us all.”
This newborn of metal and arcana soon joins them as another source of illumination. For such a powerful thing, it is rather easy to make. It had to be.
This momentous occurrence will be marked onto history’s pages and recounted for generations to come.
It has to be. It has to.
“I will … ” they begin to whisper.
Pause. Reconsider. Control one's breath. One's self.
No.
The inventor tightens their hold on their completed design.
“I ... have saved us all.”
So begins this hero's tale.