"Lorienya…" Tharion whispered, his voice reverent. His brown eyes gleamed, his hands trembling. "We stand beneath the boughs of the World Tree. The heart of my people. The one place the corruption cannot tread."
Lindarion turned to him sharply. "Why?"
Tharion blinked. "What?"
"Why does the corruption not reach here? What shields this land?"
Tharion hesitated, then bowed his head slightly. "The World Tree is not just a symbol. It breathes life into Lorienya. Its roots drink the poison of the world, purging it before it can touch the soil. As long as it stands, Lorienya endures."
A ripple of awe swept the humans again, but Lindarion's eyes narrowed.
'Then this forest is not untouched. It is sustained. Maintained by a power that should not exist in this age.'
Ashwing's small voice chirped in his mind. It feels warm, Lindarion. Like when you… when you hold mana too much, and it burns. But not bad. Big. Bigger than you. Bigger than me too. I don't like it.
