Role

Chapter 4

Snow fell gently in the mountains, blanketing the Fortress of Light in a
pristine white. Aelarion stood, captivated by the nostalgia of the wintry
storm. Memories of Yuletide's past stirred within him, evoking a longing for
his long-lost home.

Giving in to the pull of home, he ventured to the remains of Sylvindor.
Arriving along a hidden path through the forest, he found a fresh layer of
snow masking the ruins, veiling the devastation with a pristine white cloak.
He stood awestruck by the serenity of this place of destruction, before a
faint flash of light caught his attention.

A spark glimmered through the cracks of what was once the village church. It
flickered, an ethereal glow piercing through the veil of snow and beckoning
him closer.

As Aelarion crossed the threshold of the ruined church, a chill went up his
spine as he stood in the midst of it's desolation. Amid the haunting silence,
that flicker of arcane luminescence danced in the shadows.

The soft glow solidified into the spectral form of Elder Valandrielithas, the
priest who'd first shown Aelarion the wisdom which could be found through
religion. His voice, though faint, carried the weight of ages and the
familiarity of a trusted mentor.

"Aelarion," the Elder spoke in a deep tone that reminded Aelarion of his
youth, "you walk a Just path, but there is still more for you to see, more for
you to understand."

With a beckoning gesture, the Elder moved towards an adjacent chamber. As they
stepped into the chamber, the air around them shimmered and transformed.

Suddenly, the ruins dissolved, and Aelarion found himself standing amidst a
swirling vision of Sylvindor's past. It was a Yuletide celebration, but not a
celebration of excess. The scarcity of food and resources were evident on the
long feast tables, yet laughter and harmony echoed through the festive air.

Sylvindor's resilient community had gathered for the modest feast, their faces
showing not the signs of struggle, but radiating warmth and camaraderie. They
sang songs of celebration, echoing the strength of their unity and their bond.
Every soul had a plate of food, though neither the richest or poorest among
them had more or less than the other. Aelarion felt the bittersweet memory of
that Yuletide, one of harsh conditions entwined with the enduring spirit of
unity.

As the vision into his own memory played before his eyes, Aelarion was
reminded of wise words heard more recently. The Maran's Marshall had only
recently reminded the Brigade that the strength of the Light was it's unity,
and it's bond. Aelarion saw with new eyes that the Light shone brightest only
when those of the Light stood together, united.

Recognizing the understanding in Aelarion's eyes, the Elder smiled gently with
an approving nod as the vivid vision faded, grounding Aelarion back to the
present.....