novelraw Chapter 669: Mist Song Clan
Chapter 669: Mist Song Clan
At the eastern edge of the Darkmoon Forest, on the outskirts of Shadow Song Canyon, deep within the roots of the ancient tree Shadow Sieve, resides the Mist Song Clan.
Their history is as long as the streams in the forest, and like those streams, often flows quietly.
Legend says the ancestors followed the guidance of the first Moon Well, a shallow well later called the Tear of Mist Song, to take root here.
The well’s clear water reflects the silver light of Suren, the purple dreams of Eilistraee, and the shadows of Shar, nourishing generations of elves.
They learned to whisper with the forest, dance with the moonlight, walk in shadows, guarding the well, as the well guards them.
The clan is small, relying on this Level 1 Moon Well, reaching no more than two thousand people at its peak.
Now, counting the elderly and children, barely a thousand.
The well’s energy nourishes their bodies, empowers the priests, and makes the warriors’ blades glow with moonlight.
But the radiation of the Level 1 Well is limited, preventing the clan from expanding, living instead on their ancestral land, in the cycle of moon phases, hunting, gathering, worshiping, and reproducing in peace.
Their leader, named Night Wind, is a silent and resolute warrior. With the immersion of the Moon Well and a century of time, his strength reached the peak of Level 2, becoming the clan’s most solid trunk.
Night Wind’s daughter, called Leilia, her name meaning ’dewdrop in the moonlight.’
Leilia, just over seventy years old this year, is the age equivalent to a human girl among the elves’ long lifespans.
She inherited her from her mother, a priest who died young—her light purple eyes and perception talent, as well as her father Night Wind’s straight nose and calm temperament.
Her skin is the clan’s common moon-white color, with long hair like a silver waterfall, and sensitive pointed ears that can hear the rhythm of the sap flowing through trees.
Leilia grew up by the Tear of Mist Song, a well located in the village center, partially embraced by the air roots of the oldest Shadow Sieve ancient tree.
The well’s mouth is made of glowing moonstones, and even in the darkest month of Shar, the water ripples with a faint, pearl-like glow.
She remembers, as a toddler, liking to lie on the cold edge of the well, watching the reflections of the three moons change in the water.
Remembers her mother’s gentle hand, dipping in the well water, dotting her forehead, bestowing the initial blessing, also remembers her father and the warriors standing silently by the well, drawing courage before departing.
Leilia’s life is simple yet fulfilling, following the old priest to learn to identify herbs and the courses of stars and moons, practicing stealth and archery with peers in the safe forest.
During the peak of Eilistraee’s moon, participating in blessing dances, listening to elders recount the ancient pact between ancestors and the forest on nights when Suren’s moon hangs high.
The energy of the Moon Well is omnipresent like air, nurturing her, endowing her with agility and bright eyes, naturally attuned to moonlight and shadows.
Change started a few years ago.
Initially the forest’s whispers became agitated, some sensitive animals began to migrate.
Then, far in the west, the sky appeared with unfamiliar, murky starlight—it was the magical beacon and artillery of Darkmoon Town.
Later still, patrolling warriors brought back strange news.
In the forest appeared never-before-seen humans, ugly and greedy, cutting ancient trees, disturbing sacred lands, exuding a scent the forest detested.
Peace was shattered, and the Mist Song Clan was forced to frequently dispatch hunting parties, clearing the overly close invaders’ minions like diseased branches.
Father Night Wind’s face grew more wrinkled, the fire in the council tent often burned until Suren’s moon rose.
Leilia felt an invisible pressure, like a vine gradually tightening.
The Moon Well’s glow seemed less stable than she remembered.
The dark red glow of Shar’s moon crept ahead of time across the sky.
The old priest looked at the unusually active shadow energy, muttering, "An ominous sign..."
Time slowly flowed in anticipation.
The village’s defenses quietly strengthened, as every adult elf armed themselves, hidden in tree houses and shadows.
Leilia clutched the short staff left by her mother, standing at a high place from where she could see the village entrance, her light purple eyes unblinkingly following the direction where her father and the warriors vanished.
The forest lay silent beneath the crimson moon, though in that silence seemed suppressed a storm.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, two bedraggled figures staggered through the shadow barrier at the village entrance.
It was Moonlight Archer Chen Ye and Natural Priest Qing Teng from the squad, their faces pale, with scratches and energy burns on their bodies, eyes filled with lingering shock and sorrow.
Next, the shadow at the village entrance twisted violently, and a tall yet staggering figure almost fell in.
It was Deputy Commander Silver Thorn, this patrol’s Level 2 warrior leader.
His current appearance was gruesome beyond belief, with moon-white leather armor full of scorch marks and ruptures, exposed skin showing multiple scorched and corroded areas, and most terrifying was his aura.
The once stable and majestic moonlight Fighting Spirit was now chaotic, flickering erratically like a candle in the wind, silvery blood continuously oozing from his mouth, his complexion deathly pale from excessive blood loss.
His hands were empty, his long-accompanied war spear nowhere to be seen.
What unsettled Leilia even more was the look in his eyes, not simply the anger or pain of defeat, but a deep-rooted fear and bewilderment.
Silver Thorn lacked even the strength to walk to the village center; he slumped against an ancient tree, sliding to the ground, his chest heaving dramatically, each breath a rasp like a broken bellows.
Chen Ye and Qing Teng knelt beside him but did not know how to aid, helplessly watching.
The village was alarmed.
Elves emerged from hiding, gathering around, the air thick with uneasy silence.
Even children ceased their cries, hiding behind mothers, eyes wide open watching their once powerful warriors in such a state.
At that moment, a steady figure parted the crowd, silently walking to Silver Thorn.
It was Leader Night Wind, without armor, just in simple dark green hunting attire, yet standing there, resembling the thickest trunk of the Shadow Sieve ancient tree, exuding a reassuring and heavy aura.
His gaze fell on Silver Thorn, sharp as an eagle, carefully examining his wounds and state, his brow slowly furrowing.
"Silver Thorn." Night Wind’s voice, though not high, silenced all whispers, clearly reaching everyone’s ears, "What happened? Where are the others?"
Silver Thorn struggled to lift his head, upon seeing the leader, a mix of shame and fear tinged his expression.
He opened his mouth, even more blood came out, his voice hoarse and barely discernable: "Lea...der...we...attacked...those outsiders...a scouting team, intended to strike under Shar’s moon, but the opponent was stronger than expected..."