In The Wandering Territories.
The Sanctuary of The First Farmer.
A simple verdant-gold hut stood in the center of many radiant farm fields, a modest structure that seemed almost ridiculous given the concentrated life-force emanating from surrounding plots where entire dimensions were being cultivated like crops.
Elyndra entered the hut with expression mixing nostalgia and calming grief.
Her golden hair cascaded like wheat fields in harvest season. Her blue eyes held depths of accumulated wisdom beyond her apparent age. The verdant-gold dress she wore seemed woven from living plant matter that pulsed with rhythmic vitality.
This was the home her father loved to occupy when he required respite from responsibilities, surrounded by vibrant life all around, tending to growth with his own hands rather than delegating to subordinates.
