The region stretched out like a landscape that was losing its color. The white quartz ground looked grayer, and the waters of the oases that flowed through the springs and small channels were weaker. And there was no one there.
She remembered her childhood, almost a hundred years ago. The place had been full of young elves eager to prove themselves. A great family that lived for a single purpose: to follow the orders and laws of the Goddess. And so they had lived and died, fulfilling their duty. Even so, Ishara wondered why that left her feeling sad.
"I'll succeed. I'll convince Setarek. Everything will be all right," she told herself in a low voice as she adjusted her tunic and walked. She and the others were already on their way to Khemet, to kill humans and seize the power of the empire.
"I hope they're all right," she thought about her aunt, her friend, and the others who were fighting in the rift. She also thought of her father and how he had managed to kill the dragon together with the other warriors.
She sighed and looked at the path that wound along the canyon walls and the plants sprouting from the rocks, now more withered and frail.
*Good heart, and raw soul you have, girl.* The voice sounded inside Ishara's head, but it was not something she had thought herself — it simply appeared. It made her stop. Instinctively, she looked in all directions.
When she stared at the main spring, she saw the harphesh condensing into a green hue. The stone dissolved and the water formed a large puddle on the ground. The place turned sandy, and from that area a tree began to grow.
"My Goddess!" echoed the voice of Jóarnaliel, who had arrived at the site to meet Ishara, accompanied by Bialieash.
Then, from the center, a slender-trunked tree emerged, growing slowly with large roots and many leaves. However, it was not purely physical, for every part of it was formed of glowing harphesh. A strong wind arose, the waters of the oasis grew more vigorous, the plants and trees regained life, the stones of the canyon seemed to tremble, and the energy of the Goddess, which had weakened, flooded the world once again.
"For now," the tree seemed to burn like embers, but the voice spoke directly into the elf's mind, "my power will be among you once more, and you, Ishara, are blessed. The spirit of the Goddess will be with you."
//
The wyverns glided between the dunes with their large wings. Making them fly demanded a great deal of energy from the elves, so two creations served to carry the remaining seventeen elves. The closer they got, the more it seemed their energies were being drained.
"I think we should turn back," said Garhlieash, reluctant. In the distant sky, dark clouds could already be seen, and where they were the wind whipped unusually, almost hurting them.
Thswoner remained determined, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
"We need to be sure. We need to put an end to all evil, and go after that evil wherever it may be. That is what we were created for," the general replied.
Then, suddenly, as if in answer to his determination, a wave of energy washed over them. Abruptly, they felt their strength return and an unusual power they had never felt before. The wyverns, without any command, began to grow larger and stronger, beating their wings vigorously and rising into the skies.
The elves smiled and shouted in surprise and admiration.
"Is this… is this what I'm thinking?" asked one of them. Thswoner answered:
"Yes. It is the answer from the heavens. We are not alone, brothers. Our Goddess is with us."
Like a war cry, they laughed and rejoiced. The stormy fate toward which they headed no longer filled them with fear.