[One] The Silent Grove

[MayRndz 1830]

Spoiler

I got bored and so decided to do some druidic philosophy posting. This tomb can only IRPLY be acknowledged if handed by an Archdruid of the Sun Circle.

"Balance is not in the breath of life, nor in the hands of gods. It lies in the stillness after all has faded—when no root stirs and no spirit lingers. Only then, in the silence of an empty world, will we return to the fae, and the realm will know true peace."
 

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It is that silent world in which no man walks where balance can be found - before men had cities and gods had temples there were no keepers, but a realm in which nature thrived in a cycle of life, sacrifice, and death. Where the wolf could hunt rabbit and know it would not go hungry, pass away and become the grass that allowed the future to thrive. That is how it was and that is how it should be. 
 

The descendants of man spread like wildfire, their cities and kingdoms rising from the forests and hills. They built monuments to their gods, gods who demanded worship and sacrifice, bending the natural order to their will. Life, once sacred and harmonious, became entangled in the ambitions of men and rivalries. A world in which magic seeps its infectious taint to the trees; where fires burn forests and quarrels among gods created mass destruction. It was not negligence that kept those of the fae away - the druidic gods silent; but an acknowledgement that to interfere with the realm would be to feed into an imbalance.
 

Among the druii of past and present goals to restore balance lingered an idea a prophecy of a future to come would be known; whispered in the language of the trees and carried on the wings of birds. Among druii and among man, there would come a day when balance would be restored- not through the efforts of renewal but through an end of all things involving man. When they would quell the world into one final silence that left the realm barren and man could no longer live so that the natural order could reestablish itself in silence. The rivers slowed and turned to dust. The forests ceased to grow, their roots curling inward as if retreating into themselves. The winds quieted, no longer carrying the voices of life across the lands.
 

"Let all that lives return to dust,
 

Let all that breathes be still.
 

No god shall walk this land again,
 

No hand of man shall build.
 

In silence, we shall find our rest,
 

In nothing, balance true—
 

For when all fades to endless night,
 

The realm will start anew."
 

The earth grew silent. No life stirred, no gods watched, and the druids rested within the realm of the Fae; their job complete. Balance had been restored—not in the renewal of life, but in the quiet stillness of its end.