War, so beautiful it was that it svchanged the rhythm of the forest.
Within days of Silmarien's declaration, the Elven capital no longer felt like a sanctuary of quiet growth and patient time.
The Mother Tree still stood unmoved, its roots deep and ancient, but around it the air vibrated with urgency.
Songs of plant cultivation were replaced with chants of forging. The gentle hum of nature bent into something sharper.
In a way, it was actually purposeful.
The forges were now awakened.
They were not forges of iron and flame as humans knew them.
No, Elves had a special way by which they did their things. After all, they were the only ones with technology enough to match the sky people.
Deep within the living trees, chambers unfolded like blooming flowers, their bark peeling back to reveal glowing veins of crystal and sap-fire.
Elven artisans gathered in circles, robes pulled tight, eyes glowing faintly as elemental energy flowed through their bodies.
