As Arad finally landed back inside his world, his incarnations had already returned to their duties. But the biggest part of his consciousness was now dedicated to this delicate task, to find out, and root out all doubt, about the new tree taking hold in his inner stomach.
He stood there, in the desolate land, staring at the charred great stump, and he could feel the encroaching death and painful doom. This sapling doesn't have much power or life in it. It was already dying, and unlike Yggdrasil, it didn't sound that arrogant.
She cannot take hold, but she also cannot fold. She was asking him, as this world's lord, to make sure the story of her spirit at least doesn't go untold. She didn't want her moon elves to die in the cold, but couldn't pay any gold.
