Calithar sat alone in the mist-covered flower garden, a place that had once been nothing more than a shell of its former self.
Tall stalks of moonblossom swayed gently, their petals glowing faintly beneath the dreary evening sky. White star-roses curled toward the light in the mist while vines of silverleaf wrapped themselves around the carved pillars that had stood broken for centuries while he was away. The air still smelled of damp earth, sweet nectar, and the faint, eerie tinge of divine power.
The earth agents had done their work well, Calithar thought.
They were strange creatures, neither fully sentient nor mindless, born of soil, stone, and divine will yet far different from God's masterpieces, the humans.
They were beings created by the gods themselves and they existed for one purpose alone: to shape, heal, and restore the anything when commanded. They were already given the powers by their heads and so we subject to their command.
