The weight of a hundred pairs of ancient eyes rested upon him. Ren stood before the magnificent Grove-Hart, the silence of the valley amplifying the frantic beat of his own heart. This was no trial of strength or magic, but a test of truth, and the fate of his mission depended on his next words.
He bowed his head again, a gesture of sincere respect. "Venerable one," he began, his voice clear and steady, addressing the Grove-Hart. "I did not come here to disturb your peace. I would have given anything to know that such a place of purity could remain undisturbed forever. I have come because the peace of the entire world is threatened, and I fear even this sacred valley will not be safe for much longer."
He straightened up, his gaze sweeping across the wary faces of the beasts assembled nearby. "I was sent by the spirits of a glade to the south. They awakened the Serpent's Mark on my hand and called me Guardian because a shadow is spreading from the world of men. It is a plague, a Shade-blight that poisons the land and drives beasts into a maddened rage."
A low murmur rippled through the assembled creatures. Some shifted uneasily, while a large, bear-like beast with claws of granite let out a low, skeptical growl.
Ren pressed on, his voice filled with the urgency of his memories. "This is no natural sickness. I have seen its source. I journeyed through a place called the Weeping Gorge, where the blight was so thick it choked the air and water." He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "There, I witnessed men in grey robes performing a ritual. They were not fighting the corruption. They were nurturing it, feeding it from a great, dark crystal, and spreading it with deliberate intent."
He pointed to the dark scar on his leg. "I carry this mark because I chose to intervene. I disrupted their work, and I paid the price. This poison is their weapon. Their goal is not just conquest; it is the twisting of all life into a reflection of their own darkness."
The Grove-Hart's leafy antlers rustled softly. Its gaze was deep and thoughtful, but the granite-clawed bear took a heavy step forward, its voice a rumbling growl in Ren's mind. "The affairs of men are not ours! Their wars and their plagues are their own making. For centuries we have prospered in this isolation, while their world withered. Why should we now pay the price for their corruption?"
The sentiment was echoed by several other beasts. A sense of distrust, cold and hard, emanated from the crowd. They saw him not as an ally, but as a harbinger of the very world they had sought to escape. Ren's hope began to falter. They were not going to listen.
Seeing the tide of opinion turning against him, Ren knew he had one last thing to offer: his true purpose. "I have not come to ask you to fight humanity's wars," he said, his voice ringing with passion. "I have come because the spirits told me this was a place of pure magic, a haven for the ancient beasts who remember the world as it was meant to be. I am young and I am wounded. I do not have the wisdom to fight this enemy alone. I came here to learn. To understand. To ask for the knowledge that you alone possess, so that I might have a chance to stop the blight from consuming everything—your world and mine."
His plea hung in the air, heartfelt and desperate. But the wall of skepticism remained. He had offered his truth, and it wasn't enough.
At this moment of near-despair, Shiro acted. The small snake, who had been a silent observer on Ren's arm, slithered to the ground. In the face of these colossal, ancient beings, Shiro looked infinitesimally small. Yet, he moved with a purpose and dignity that belied his size. He glided across the mossy ground directly to the Grove-Hart. He did not hiss or make any grand display. He simply stopped before the great stag and bowed his head until his nose touched the earth, a simple, profound gesture of respect from one pure beast to another, an ancient sign of fealty and trust.
A hush fell over the entire valley. The growling of the Granite-Claw Bear ceased. Every eye was fixed on the tiny snake making his silent, solemn appeal on behalf of his human companion. The act was more powerful than any words Ren could have spoken. It was a testament, a bridge between two worlds.
The Grove-Hart lowered its great, branch-antlered head, its gentle green eyes regarding the small serpent. A long moment passed.
"The bond you share is strong," the Grove-Hart's voice finally resonated in Ren's mind, a new tone of acceptance within it. "It is a whisper of the Old Covenant, when man and beast spoke a single tongue. Such a thing has not been seen for an age."
The great stag raised its head and looked at Ren. "Your words carry the weight of truth, and your companion vouches for your soul. Such a great matter is not for me alone to decide. You must be brought before the one who remembers the Covenant's making, the one whose memory stretches back to the dawn of this valley."
The Grove-Hart turned, its movements a gentle and irresistible command. "Follow me, Ren-Guardian. The Eldest will see you now."
Leaving the stunned assembly of beasts behind, Ren followed the majestic stag deeper into the luminous, otherworldly paradise, his heart pounding with a mixture of terror and hope. He was about to face the ultimate authority of the Sanctuary.