The Forgotten Zodiac

"Verolen could probably just transmute one," L'arc said, staring sadly at the waste of nails and wood that he and Sylas had created. "...probably should have asked him from the start," he added.

"Uh...let's see..." Sylas looked around, and called Verolen over. He was inspecting the job the workers were doing on the frames; all looked pretty good, for the most part.

Verolen blinked at the mess they had made. "Well...it's close. But you're not quite there yet. Why'd you throw these out?" He held up the shorter pieces.

"They don't fit." Sylas blinked. "The door is supposed to be even, right?"

"Er, yeah...hold on." Verolen set to work pulling out the nails, removing them from the wood and putting them back in the bag Sylas had.

"Can't you just transmute the door?" Sylas frowned.

"But then you'll never learn to appreciate human craftsmanship." Verolen chortled. "You foresters live a coddled life. The forest takes care of you, and you take care of it. You don't worry about doors, or windows, or carpets...why the humans chose a life like this, you and I will never understand. But this is how they do it, and this is how we're doing it here. Try again, but think about how you could use the shorter planks." Verolen grinned and turned away, back to his inspections.

L'arc made the most pathetic "what-I -have-to-think?" face as he stared after Verolen. With battles, which was all L'arc had really known, one usually didn't try to think too hard about what they were doing. It tended to cause hesitation, which was never good in a battle. He stared down at the door, then looked to Sylas again.

Sylas frowned. "I guess...we can try to think back and...see if we remember any doors..." Sylas frowned. "I remember staring at one door pretty constantly. That one winter I had been captured by Dysonius. That door...I hated that door. I can't remember what it looked like..."

"Well, don't think about it if it's going to make you upset," L'arc insisted. Mostly out of irritation, he pitched a shorter cut piece of wood on top of the others, where it landed horizontally. He blinked at it for a moment, trying to process the idea that was coming to him.

Sylas prompty face-palmed and sighed. "Duh. We nail the shorter one down like that, and it'll keep the others in place...darn it. Now I feel stupid." He sighed and knelt by the wood, getting another nail ready. "Come on then, we may as well get this done..."

"Of course," L'arc said, going slightly red in the face as he realized their mistake. He knelt and held the board in place as Sylas got the hammer and the nails. "Boy, this should have taken about two seconds, huh?"

"No kidding," Sylas mumbled. "But at least we got it. It's surprisingly simple...maybe Verolen was right about the coddling. The trees do keep us pretty sheltered..." He sighed a bit, and rubbed the back of his neck as he stood back to look at his work. "There we go. That's good...yeah, that'll do." Just in time, too; Tobias came by to check on their work.

"Ah, good! You're done. That's excellent." Tobias smiled. "Such an ingenuity, the door...but not as convenient as the wheel. Your druid friends are quick builders, once they know what they're doing. I wish I had seen Treefort...oh hey, Versha was asking for you two. That tree lady, yeah?"

"Oh, was she? She's awake, then?"

"Yeah. Not ready to be up and about, but awake."

"That's a relief," L'arc said, standing up and brushing himself off a bit. "I'm so glad her vision didn't come true... the one where she died, I mean," he said. "I'll have to make it a point to thank (whoever grabbed her) for grabbing her later."

He turned towards the tent that Versha was staying in and looked to Sylas. "Coming?"

((That was Rush.))

"Visions? Hah," Tobias chortled. "I was once told that I was going to be killed by a centaur at the age of 20. Look at me now, 46 and still kicking. You can't always put your money on visions. Sometimes they mistake the past for the future."

"Yeah," Sylas nodded. "But we should find out where Bird went, first. He should greet her, too. He'd be overjoyed to see her, in fact." He grinned, remembering the text that he had read, about Wood Nymphs practically worshipping Tree Spirits. "Where...did Bird go, again?" Sylas frowned.

At the moment, the Nymph was inspecting fruits that had been placed in a pile, attempting to determine which had been harvested by humans, and which had been harvested by Druids. He finally found one which didn't have human scent on it, and he was quick to put it in his bag for later. He was only a little hungry now, after all. He was on his last rat, so he'd have to ration food until he figured something out.

L'arc looked around, then wandered about for a while until he found Bird. He hailed the Nymph before going over, smiling at him. "Hey, Versha's awake. Do you want to come with Sylas and I to see her?" he asked.

Bird blinked at them for a moment, then nodded. He didn't seem to know who Versha was. Sylas grinned as he turned around. Boy, the Nymph was in for a surprise. He let L'arc lead the way to the tent where Versha was.

L'arc opened the tent flap, peering inside. "Versha? Are you still awake?" he called quietly.

"Hmm? Yes, my king, I'm awake." Versha responded, albeit quietly. "Come in, come in..." They did. Bird dropped to his knees as soon as he saw her, not letting his face be higher than hers, as she was lying on a cot. Her torso and part of her leg was bandaged, as well as her entire right arm. "Oh! A Wood Nymph...I haven't seen one of you since the Mother Tree perished..."

Bird started pulling off the bandages, inspecting the wounds. "Oh, darling, it's okay..." Versha murmured. "I'm fine, really..."

"Well, you're not dead," Sylas pointed out.

"I'm aware of that..."

L'arc smiled slightly at Bird, then looked to Versha. "Was there something you wished to discuss?" he asked. He looked over Versha as if to confirm that she was truly all right, but he figured that Bird would see to that.

"Well...it's about the Elder..." Versha murmured. "In my vision, I saw a great fire. And I witnessed my own demise...but if it were not to be me, then the Elder would perish."

"O-oh...that's...that's why you told us you would die?" Sylas frowned.

"Yes. That's why." Versha murmured.

"But the Elder..." Sylas blinked. He realized that he hadn't seen the Elder. Not since the coronation.

"Is now dead--ahh!" She whimpered slightly as Bird removed the bandages from her side. "Gentle, please..."

Bird nodded and turned to Sylas. He poked the human's pocket. "What?" Sylas blinked, reaching in and pulling out the Ether. Bird snatched it up and pressed it against Sylas' chest, pushing him towards Versha and nodding furiously.

"Can you heal her, Sylas?" L'arc asked, still trying to process the loss of the Elder. He silently moved over to the entrance of the tent, sighed, then stepped outside to clear his head.

"Er, yeah..." Sylas put the Ether Shard to work, the glowing slowly putting Versha's broken and burned body back together.

After a few minutes, Versha followed L'arc out (Bird hounding at her heels with his offering of the fruit he had gotten, but she was mostly ignoring him). She rested her hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, my king?" She asked quietly.

L'arc jumped slightly at her touch, then turned to face her. "...it's nothing that can be helped," he answered with a slight shrug. He turned again to face the burned forest. At length, he asked, "Versha, can you use your ability as seer to tell me... tell me when this feeling of inadequacy will go away?" The young king closed his eyes and crossed his arms, sighing.

"Inadequacy?" Versha smiled slightly. "You know...your father once asked another something very similar. He didn't feel as though he was worthy enough to rule...when he was younger, he feared taking over the throne for lack of nobility. But he grew accostumed to it by the time you came along. I can only hope that he felt worthy by the time of his death." She moved in front of L'arc, blocking his view of the destruction. "L'arc...I can say with absolute certainty that your best will be enough. And you would be a fool to give the forest anything but your very best. But give it your all and the rest will work out, no?"

"No." Bershee, who had overheard the conversation, interjected. "Sometimes his best won't be enough. When that is, who knows. What you'll do then, that's what's important. When you're up to your neck in deep trouble and you're running out of options, when you've struggled and fought for victory and fall flat on your face every time, what's the first thing that you should do, L'arc?"