Through the smoke’s aperture, I can only see darkness, but His Flame burns brighter than ever. Stronger than any who oppose His will.
In ages past, our people were few. We could not grow in numbers as constant travel to tap into scarce sources of food kept us at humble numbers. In these days, the careful harvest of the Stoneborn Fig sustained us.
What started with those five plants eventually grew into the many hundreds that adorned the Green Wall.
Riding hard into the morning sun, we found ourselves on an ancient, ruined road.
When giants moved, it meant war.