A deep blanket of silence fell over Aetherius as the dryad exhaled her
last and the Arythian Rowan succumbed to the powers of death. Many
gathered beneath the skeletal branches of the tree to mourn its passing
or to witness for themselves its demise. Among the gathered was
Kristopher Sedgewick, his eyes glowing with triumph.

Refusing to further debase himself with common speech, his boasts in the
orcish tongue fell uncomprehended on the ears of the gathered, with the
exception of few, led by Selthis, who understood and encouraged the
follower of the God of Rogues.

He spoke of how he wished to extend his sincerest thanks to the deceased
Dryad for the reward he would receive from his master.

"I held in my hand her essence, her very life," he snickered, "and I
have given it back to the one to whom she originally belonged."

Knowing no hope to exist for Mairya, the mourning populace turned their
eyes to the destruction their prior decisions had wrought upon the land.
Though they could not rescue the dryad, perhaps there was a chance that
they could rectify the damage done by the Blight.

Whether they succeed remains to be seen...

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Artificium, in the year 461 AD.