The morning sunlight filtered through the Tharn Forest, casting rays that pierced the misty trees, creating a serene and vivid tranquility. At the heart of the ruins, before a massive boulder, sat Tirrellda. She had spread a soft, deep green cloak over the firm, flat stone and placed a leather-bound book open on her lap. Between the worn pages of the book, a quill moved swiftly, transcribing the Vrant inscriptions etched into the boulder one by one.
Tirrellda's hair gleamed softly under the sunlight streaming through the branches, and whenever a breeze stirred, it cascaded over her shoulders, casting shadows across the pages.
Her eyes followed the spirals and curves of the patterns carved into the boulder with sharp precision. Her hand, clad in leather gloves that exposed her fingers, gripped the quill and darted across the paper, the ink flowing smoothly from the tip to form the characters.
Her posture embodied the focused intensity of a scholar: back straight, legs neatly folded beneath her, quietly copying the inscriptions onto the book atop them. A small parchment pouch dangled from the leather belt of her tunic, swaying slightly whenever she leaned forward.
The boulder bore Vrant script forgotten for ages. Amid the intricate patterns resembling leaves and animal shapes, a faint magical glow seemed embedded, occasionally absorbing the sunlight and exhaling it in golden flickers.
Tirrellda deciphered these one by one, meticulously recording them in the margins of her book. Beneath the transcribed Vrant inscriptions, her quill added peculiar characters.
These were composed solely of dots and lines—an odd script neither Elvish nor the Damu language. Three types of lines varied in length: short, medium, and long, accompanied by one to five dots placed at different positions—above, below, before, midway, or at the end of the lines. These characters filled the page in a dance-like formation, swift and rhythmic.
By the riverbank of the ruins, standing before a colossal stone basin, Daroon momentarily turned his gaze toward Tirrellda. The basin, engraved with patterns mimicking the flow of river water, was half-filled with rainwater, its surface reflecting the sunlight in a gentle shimmer. Daroon, even with his own formidable stature, marveled inwardly at the basin's size, which seemed too immense for him to lift easily.
'Such a massive vessel...'
His enormous build appeared diminished before the basin. His black steel armor caught the light gliding over the river's surface, highlighting the claw motifs etched upon it.
The blade of the halberd slung over Daroon's shoulder stretched long alongside his shadow.
With heavy steps, Daroon approached Tirrellda and peered down at the book she was writing in. The script of dots and lines caught his eye. Tilting his head, he spoke in a hushed tone, careful not to startle her in her concentration.
"Tirrellda, what language is that? It doesn't seem like Elvish or Damu..."
Tirrellda paused her quill and looked up at him with a gentle smile.
"It's scholarly shorthand, Daroon."
She lifted the quill, pointing to the dots and lines on the page, and continued her explanation.
"Any language, especially something like Elvish, has beautiful characters, but they're cumbersome for quick writing. That's why scholars devised this shorthand. It's phonetic, written as it sounds, allowing for rapid recording and reading. When transcribing complex inscriptions like these, adding annotations in shorthand makes it far more efficient."
Daroon nodded, following her fingertip across the book. A short line with two dots above it, a long line ending in five scattered dots, a medium line with a single dot below... The dots and lines connected at regular intervals, building a quiet regularity across the page. He murmured softly.
"Impressive. To write so swiftly and yet organize it so neatly."
Tirrellda gave a faint smile and resumed her quill's movement. Her eyes remained fixed on the boulder's inscriptions, her hand ceaselessly committing words to paper. As the conversation flowed, Daroon suddenly asked, curiosity evident in his voice.
"Tirrellda, why did the Vrants vanish from sight?"
Tirrellda halted her quill momentarily, as if lost in thought. Her eyes traced the patterns on the boulder slowly. Soon, she spoke quietly.
"There are two prevailing theories among scholars, Daroon."
She closed the book softly and began her tale.
"The first is that the Vrants, having lived for extraordinarily long spans, withdrew to rest. Legends say they endure tens of times longer than elves. What seems like centuries to us might be akin to a mere nap for them."
Daroon nodded, stroking his chin.
"A nap... If they live that long, it makes sense."
Tirrellda smiled and introduced the second theory.
"The other tale is darker. Sermek, the God of Sand, is said to have loathed the forest's verdancy. He bestowed poison upon his apostles, and that venom began seeping into the woods gradually. To prevent the poison from ravaging the entire forest, the Vrants chose to absorb it themselves, entering an eternal slumber to safeguard the woods—that's the legend passed down."
Daroon's deep eyes turned toward the river. His voice rumbled low.
"Sacrificing themselves to protect the forest... If true, the Vrants were truly remarkable beings."
Tirrellda nodded and reopened her book.
"We don't yet know which is the truth. But perhaps these inscriptions on the ruins will reveal the answer."
She picked up her quill again and resumed transcribing the boulder's script.
Daroon watched her for a moment, then smiled and said.
"I've disturbed you for too long. I'll take a look around the vicinity."
Daroon shouldered his halberd and strode slowly toward the outskirts of the ruins. His gaze wandered absently until it was drawn inexorably to the river, his steps soon following suit.
The moment the riverbank's stone basin came into view, a peculiar creature caught his eye.
Drinking from the water in the massive basin was a being about the size of a small fox. It stood on four legs like a beast, yet its form was uncanny.
Its eye sockets were deep and darkly empty, its mouth small with sharp teeth exposed. The tail was short and blunt, and its entire body was enveloped in thin woody vines. Dozens of slender tendrils twisted together to form the creature's shape, with faint light leaking through the gaps. Whenever sunlight touched the vines, they sparkled, and the illuminated tendrils twitched subtly in motion.
Drawn by curiosity, Daroon approached cautiously. His heavy footfalls echoed against the ground, prompting the creature to lift its head. The empty eye sockets turned toward him, its vine-clad body tensing and arching its back. Its mouth opened, emitting a sharp, wary sound—a gesture of vigilance.
At that instant, soft footsteps approached from behind, faint in Daroon's ears. Tirrellda was drawing near. Clutching her book to her chest, she gazed quietly at the creature. Remarkably, it showed no hostility or fear toward her. Instead, it approached slowly, as if seeping into her presence.
Tirrellda knelt and gently embraced the creature. Its vine body was soft and warm, relaxing under her touch as if tension melted away. Daroon, astonished, remarked.
"Tirrellda, that creature... it shows no fear of you at all."
Tirrellda smiled, stroking its back.
"It seems this little one has no intent to harm us."
As her hand touched its back, a small stone fragment came into view. The opaque, dull golden stone bore faint Vrant script within. It emitted a brief, bright golden glow before softly fading. The creature slumbered peacefully in Tirrellda's arms.
Tirrellda gazed at the stone and whispered.
"This stone... it's emitting a strange light... on its surface..."
Tirrellda looked down at the creature cradled in her arms. The layered, entwined thin vines of its body trembled faintly at her fingertips, as if harboring a breath. Her gaze halted on the stone fragment embedded in the gaps of the soft vines on its back.
That stone, tinged with a dull golden hue, held a warmth as if infused with someone's breath. Tirrellda carefully picked it up. On its surface were small, faint but distinct Vrant characters. Narrowing her eyes, she murmured softly.
"...In the Vrant language..."
Her fingertip traced the curves of the script slowly.
"'Friend.' or perhaps 'companion'... that's how it reads."
Her eyes softened toward the creature. This small being, once wary, now breathed quietly in her embrace—as if it had waited for her from ancient times, as if her hold was familiar.
After a brief silence, Tirrellda continued in a whisper-like tone.
"Perhaps... this little one is none other than the Aornn, known as the guardian of the forest?"
Daroon's eyes widened in surprise.
"The one said to always accompany the Vrants... from the legends...?"
Tirrellda nodded and elaborated.
"No one has ever seen the Aornn's form, as the tales go... but there are stories of it occasionally placing Vrant fruits deep in the forest. Legends speak of something watching over and tending the woods... And this one's body... the script on this stone fragment might be proof of that."
Tirrellda carefully placed the stone back on the creature's back. The slumbering being shivered slightly, then slowly opened its eyes. The empty sockets turned toward her once more, and for a fleeting moment, a faint light flickered within. The Aornn slid from her arms like a glide, shook its vine body vigorously once, and darted toward the ruins' exterior.
Its movement was light and agile, as if riding the wind. Daroon stepped forward in astonishment, and Tirrellda naturally followed its path with her eyes. Reaching the ruins' boundary, the Aornn halted. It turned halfway, tapping its front paws twice against the ground with a thud. It wagged its short, blunt tail slightly, then turned again, glancing back once more. Tilting its head, it rippled its vines subtly while gazing at Tirrellda—that posture seemed almost like...
"...Is it beckoning us to follow?"
Tirrellda's quiet question dissolved into the air.
The Aornn turned its head once more. Then, with quiet but resolute steps, it began advancing toward some depths of the forest.
Tirrellda's eyes hardened as she turned back to Daroon. He gave a short nod.
She carefully folded her book, held it in hand, and glanced at the Aornn.
"Let us follow."
Daroon hesitated briefly, staring at the Aornn. The uncanny aura emanating from that small entity still felt utterly foreign, its vine-composed body evoking an unease unlike any beast. Unconsciously, he gripped and released the halberd's handle.
"Uh? Is it safe...? To follow that thing...?"
Tirrellda steadied her breath shortly and replied.
"It will be fine. If it meant us harm, it would have acted already."
Daroon nodded heavily. He secured his halberd to his back, tightened the waterskin strap at his waist, and prepared to follow. His armor clanked with a metallic ring, his boots pressing through the fallen leaves on the forest floor.
Tirrellda began stepping quietly into the forest after the Aornn. Daroon exhaled deeply and trailed behind her.