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"My destiny is of my own making." Speech.
"I remember the time..." Flashback speech. Spellcraft.
"When your people huddled in caves I was there." Greater being speech.
"█▄██▄▄█▄▄█▄" Inarticulate roar/scream etc.
XxxXxxXxxX
Previously:
"Very impressive. But wasteful." The being responded with a nod of the head. "You need not flood your entire being with the presence of the Dream when simply your eyes and mind are enough for the simple task of separating the layers of this world and the Dream that rests above it."
He felt another bout of satisfaction come over him when the golden eyed child before him considered his words for a brief second before nodding in understanding. This young elf did not take everything as absolute truth it seemed, rather taking it in and comparing it against his own experiencing before moving on.
"Tell me young one. What is the name you bear?"
Harry looked up to the great entity. "Har'rin Whisperwind."
"Well met. I greet you, Har'rin Whisperwind, as Cenarius; Keeper of the Grove."
XxxXxxXxxX
-15,725 D.P
A great deal had happened for Harry since that first meeting with the Keeper of the Grove; Cenarius near two hundred and sixty years ago. The then fifteen year old Night Elf had found himself often returning to the Grove where the great Wild God would always greet him with a smile and warm welcome.
From the very beginning Cenarius took Harry into his care and taught him the wonders of their shared world. Under the guidance of the ancient being, Harry learned how to navigate his way through the wilds of Azeroth and even how to venture into the deepest most dangerous parts of the world safely and beyond the notice of the creatures that roamed its lands.
He learned how to track across great distances and with the barest of signs. Which plants were edible and which were now. Which roots, flowers and leaves made for good reagents to brew concoctions of restoration.
Cenarius taught him how to survive.
His mother had noticed his frequent trips out to Val'Sharah a month into his new routine of visiting the Keeper. She had, ad first, been reluctant to allow her son to wander so carelessly beyond the safety of Suramars' walls but had ultimately allowed him his freedoms. While not truly known to the Kaldorei; Cenarius was spoken of fondly in the circles of rumor and folklore concerning the ancient spirits.
The chief disruption to Harry's life that came as a result of his adventures out into the wilds on a frequent basis was the deterioration of his relationships towards his friends. While not a secret in the strictest sense nor forbidden from speaking of it, Harry never really delved into what it was he was doing beyond Suramar's walls to his childhood friends. He made no mention of his friendship with the Wild God Cenarius nor attempted to involve them in the wonders of the wilds he had discovered.
They would not have enjoyed it as much as he was.
In time they all went their separate ways. Finding the paths of their future in different places. Most of his female friends found themselves following in the steps of their own mothers or mentors in joining the Sisterhood to become Initiates while the few boys he knew as a child either went on to join one of the magical academies in Nar'Thalas or Suramar itself, or enlisted into military service.
In truth, they all left him behind. Two hundred and seventy five years old and all those he had known as a child were off to become adults in society while he himself was left behind to flit around the forest like a child.
But Harry didn't cast any blame for this. He did not judge his friends for their choices nor did he consider himself childish for not doing something similar. For in truth, he had long since started himself on a path of his own choosing.
Long before even the oldest of his friends, a young woman by the name of Thesia had applied for and been accepted into the Sisterhood to become a priestess, Harry had, at the mere age of fifty been accepted by Cenarius himself to learn the mysterious knowledge of the Emerald Dream.
Druidism as Cenarius had called it.
It was a fascinating practice. To discover the raw power and wonder that lay beyond the reaches of the physical world that not only fuelled the growth and vitality of the natural world, but empowered its very tenacity and strength. The potential of not only an entire world of life, but the sum total of its entire potential past, present and future.
But it was slow going. A far cry from the arcane arts in their relatively expedient lessons and total education. In the span of a complete first level arcane education of twenty years Harry had only learned how to successfully commune with the natural world and glimpse the Emerald Dream that lay beyond.
After a full hundred years, he had learned how to coax the spirits of the wilds from their trees and commune with them individually and intimately.
Even now, in his two hundred and twenty fifth year of learning at the feet of Cenarius, Harry was still to learn how to properly direct and encourage natural growth and how to direct it to his desires.
Slow going for a magical path that had yielded so little when others who had studied for not even half that time were already displaying clear and obvious power.
But that bothered Harry none. He understood and knew a simple truth. The most worthwhile things were never obtained easily.
Currently the young Night Elf was in the region of Azsuna just east of Nar'thalas in an isolated glen filled with wildflowers of all colors of the rainbow.
It was Elune's Day coming up; the day where the mothers of Kaldorei society were honored by their children for their love and care.
Without fail Harry always made sure to honor his mother above all else for this day. He knew just how important it had been for her the day she had discovered her pregnancy with him, the joy she had felt when he had been born. It brought a smile to his own face and warmth to his heart to see that joy and love in her eyes renewed.
This year it was to be particularly special. He had been able to, with some measure of cunning and prodding, encourage Shan'do Cenarius in directing his lessons toward what he had intended for this day.
He held no illusions that the ancient god knew full well the young Whisperwinds ultimate goal evident in the knowing smirk every day when he had shown himself at the glade for his lessons. But on the whole Cenarius had been content in playing the fool and allowing Harry his fantasy of successful subterfuge.
Against expected convention, Harry was not picking the various flowers that blossomed in the clearing but carefully and meticulously collecting samples of pollen from various flowers. A small satchel hung from a looped strap secured diagonally across his chest filled with crystal vials several already occupied by small pinches of glittering dust like pollen of differing colors. A couple, having been collected from more potent and empowered flowers glowed with their lingering natural magical power.
It was surprisingly delicate work and a testament to the knowledge and skills imparted upon him from his teacher Cenarius. Harry wasn't simply plucking a flower and crudely scraping its pollen out and into a vial. Rather he was coaxing a small amount using his connection to the natural world via the Dream. The bare minimum the flower could spare while maintaining the amount it required to reproduce which on its own was not enough for a stable sample size which necessitated the collection of multiples of the same flower pollen for a single sample.
The difficulty came in not only convincing the flowers of his desires, but making his desires clear. There was no spirit or sentience within flowers; so small they were, to persuade so he had to work in cooperation with the wisps of Azsuna to determine how much, if any, pollen could safely be taken from each flower he came to. Wisps didn't communicate in words or understand any system of measurement used by the mortal races so it was taking some time to translate the impressions of images, sounds and emotion that were flowing through him.
And there was also the distracting factor of his watcher.
Whomever it was, they had been watching him for some time now; ever since he had left the walls of Suramar and left the marble stone highways for the wilds beyond.
It was a nature spirit of some sort; the feeling of the Emerald Dream wafting from his watcher powerfully. In fact were it not for his watchers nimble dexterity in maintaining watch over him as he twisted through the terrain that he himself had barely been able to squeeze through he would have considered it to be one of the Ancient Protectors otherwise known as simply the Ancients; the sentient and wizened tree spirits that wandered the forests under Cenarius' care. Perhaps the Ancient of the Arcane; Crystalbark. That particular ancient had taken a liking to him in the last century; often seeking him out to engage Harry in academic argument in the connections linking the various magical natures of Azeroth and their commonality.
According to Crystalbark himself; Harry as a mortal had a unique perspective toward the subject matter that the Ancient found invaluable.
But back to the matter at hand; his watcher. It was no ancient. Too small and agile, even for Treants; the sapling forms of the older, wiser Ancients.
The wisps of the valley were also aware of his little stalker and it was amusing to watch as they flitted about, dancing in between flowers only to linger a fraction of a moment whenever they passed his watcher's hiding place.
The greenish-black haired Night Elf sincerely hoped that his tracker wasn't under any delusions of their secrecy and was choosing to maintain their 'stealth' out of stubborn pride.
It was irrelevant in the end though. Watcher or no, Harry was here to complete a task of his own making and he had neither the time, patience nor need to concern himself with the motivations of whomever had taken it upon themselves to follow him and watch over his actions.
With a soft smile of satisfaction, the young elf nodded in appreciation toward a nearby Wisp that had aided him in extracting this last sample of pollen from a grouping of Lilies that grew along the bank of a small, ankle deep stream that trickled through the valley from a nearby river. Sending out a wave of gratitude and fraction of his own magical power to the Wisp as thanks for its aid, Harry stoppered the vial that was now sufficiently filled with the Lily pollen before storing it safely in his satchel across his chest before readjusting it, shifting the strap around so the satchel was secured at his back now.
Standing up, Harry stretched out wide, arms outstretched as he took a brief moment to enjoy the cool, crisp air brushing against his bare skin. The simple black tunic he had been wearing when he left Suramar two days ago was hanging from his waist. His dark brown pants were stained at the knees from kneeling in grass so long. He had lost his shoes shortly after leaving Suramar, the apparel succumbing to both wear and tear when they had slipped free during mid leap over a fast moving river. The straps of his boots had snapped and fallen free to splash in the river only to be swept away.
Harry was partially dreading his mothers reaction when he returned home finally for her to see him walking around bare foot like some kind of vagabond.
Brushing his hands across his chest, knocking loose a few leaves and motes of dirt that had stuck to his sweat coated chest from the breeze, Harry cast his eyes across the valley one last time. The gentle breeze washing across the landscape causing the grass and flowers to ripple and flow against it; like the lapping waves of the ocean.
There was nothing more here that required his presence here so Harry made his way out of the glen, following the trickling stream back up to the river that journeyed from Nar'thalas to The Great Lake of Suramar. The waters there were pure and rich with magic, both natural and arcane as a byproduct of Kaldorei influence. It would be sufficient in providing the sustenance to ensure the vitality and success of his project.
His Watcher followed of course. Skirting around the edge of the valley; using tree cover to hide from his eyes, and Harry made sure as to limit his gait so as to not outpace and lose his observer who was forced to take a slower, wider route.
It was childish in a sense, but he was enjoying this little game of hide and seek, in fact he could almost swear to sense similar emotions wafting from his stalker; feelings of enjoyment and mischief tempered in along with curiosity and a small amount of suspicion.
It was to the intention of luring in his tracker, interest in tripping them up and forcing them out of hiding that when he did arrive at the river, he chose a spot by its banks specifically closer to the forest line where the trees and bushes skirted closer to the point were there was only a few precious feet between their border and his location.
As he reached up and removed the satchel and its harness from his chest, crouching down to place it gently at his side, that he smothered a smirk of victory when he sensed this one come to 'hide' in the bushes almost directly behind him.
Returning his focus to where it was needed, Harry opened the small bag and removed first a small ceramic pot; barely bigger than his own fist, and placed it gently on the ground before him.
Once there, he shifted his position to seat himself down on the ground properly, legs folded.
Three fists full of earth were scooped up into his hands and poured into the pot followed by the druid-in-training brushing his hand over the top to sweep away any excess so that it was level with the pots lip.
Once done, Harry rest his open palm gently over the surface of the now dirt filled pot, eyes closing softly as he cast his focus out into the world of Azeroth; calling on the Dream and the spirits of the wilds that occupied both worlds.
As was common and easy with him, the energies of the Emerald Dream answered him swiftly and like the greetings of an old friend; rushing around and into him until very little separation between the entity that was Har'rin Whisperwind and the Dream existed. From there it was an almost heart beat-like wave of green that pulsed outward from his hand, enveloping the earth filled pot. Each pulse covered the entire pot only to be absorbed into the earth by the time of the next. Which in turn was absorbed for the next. And the next. And the next.
It was nearly a full hour of this, filling the collected earth with the raw power of the Emerald Dream to the point where the light brown color of the dirt had shifted into a dark brown, almost black, color; its composition almost completely now consisting of Dream-matter.
When he at last stopped and opened his eyes, the golden orbs briefly burning with the power of the sun itself before the energies of the Dream left him, he felt something different.
Well, three things really. The first was small fawn, barely a summer old curled up against his side fast asleep, head resting on his lap as the babe took in his warmth. The second and third were more; significant.
The second was the inhale and exhale of air brushing past his right ear followed by the third; which was the presence of an individual leaning over his shoulder with no concern towards the very concept of personal space.
Harry felt a small smile creep its way onto his face as he shifted his head to the side to consider the now revealed presence of his stalker. She, it seemed, had finally been unable to restrain herself in maintaining the game of trying to hide from him and had emerged out sometime during his work to more closely watch what exactly it was he was doing.
Now that he could see her, he found himself momentarily stunned by her beauty. With the sleek, slender lower body of a Doe and the upper body of a Night Elven female, she was clearly in some way related to Cenarius. Long, flowing leaf like green hair and a pair of curved horns jutting out from her forehead she had honey golden eyes that were currently filled with awe and wonder.
Garbed only in a brassiere made of leaves and vines to preserve her modesty she was, beautiful.
A Dryad. Harry remembered Shand'o Cenarius telling him about them. His daughters and grand-daughters; Children born of his seed and connection to the Emerald Dream. While mainly the daughters of Cenarius's sons, the Lord of the Forests had proudly stated that he had been fortunate enough to have a few daughters himself. Given the sheer vitality and power resonating from her there was no way she was anything less than directly related to his Shand'o. A daughter.
And by Elune, was she beautiful. He had known a few women in Suramar who had been incredibly captivating in their own right. But this Dryad, was something, more. So beautiful to the point of breathtaking to his eyes.
"How did you do that?"
By Elune, even her voice was alluring.
The Dryad shifted, her face pressing against his in her eagerness to see more of the ceramic pot of Dream infused earth. Not noticing the attention of the young Elf on her.
"My father can conjure parts of the Emerald Dream over the landscape of Azeroth in isolated areas. But even then it is in only very small instances and temporary at that." The Dryad spoke, hooves shifting with excited energy as her hands came up to grasp at his shoulders to steady herself. "But this, this is permanent. You pulled out a piece of the Dream and made it an enduring part of this world. How?"
Harry said nothing for a moment, words temporarily failing him. How was it that this woman had him acting like a blushing virgin. He might not be a true adult according to his own culture, but he was nearly three hundred years old. he'd known women before. So why in Elune's name was this Dryad affecting him like this?
"Well?"
Harry licked his lips nervously before reaching forward to gently picking up the pot, cradling it almost as if the very wind itself could blow it to pieces. "A-as I was taught, the Emerald Dream exists parallel to this world. Multiple layers of primordial sub-reality and raw natural power leftover from when this world was first Ordered. My studies under Shand'o Cenarius have taught me a great deal in not only drawing power from the Emerald Dream and travelling to and from it, but also about the natural entryways throughout Azeroth."
The Dryad nodded in understanding. "Yes father has told me as much. There are sites; great trees across Azeroth that The Dreamer grew as gateways to the Emerald Dream. All guarded by her children and watched over by my brothers."
Harry nodded. "Yes. And each of these portals are surrounded by a notable increase in vitality to the wild; both plant and animal life. This is due to the miasma of the dream seeping into the soil surrounding the portals. What I did was replicate the same effects but on a smaller scale."
"What do you intend to grow?"
Harry smiled and reached over to his satchel and lifted it to his lap, opening it to show the crystal vials of pollen samples he had collected to the woman still leaning over him. "I intend to cross pollinate these samples into a single, original species."
The Dryad's eyes nearly fell out of her head at this. "W-What?! T-that's not possible! Even if you could manage to meld the differing natural elements of each mote of pollen you would need to cultivate this new species in both the physical realm as well as the Emerald Dream at the same time or else it would perish."
Harry nodded in agreement. "Yes that is true. For every plant and aspect of the wild that exists on Azeroth so too does a reflection of it reside within the Primordial depths of the Emerald Dream. That is why I will need to create, complete and cultivate the seed simultaneously while in both Azeroth and the Dream."
The green haired Dryad looked at him in bewilderment; mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she tried and failed to voice, anything, in response to this. She was speechless. What this young Night Elf was proposing was far beyond anything her father had spoken of in regards to both the Emerald Dream and the capabilities of Druidism. It would take power beyond any of her brothers and sisters were capable of. Even Cenarius himself would face considerable difficulty in such an endeavour.
Taking the silence from the Dryad as an end to her queries, Harry proceeded with his task. Reaching in, he pulled out the various samples he had painstakingly collected over the course several weeks. Eight small ampules; each containing different colored motes of pollen that each glowed a soft light with the natural and mystical magics they contained. A flick of his thumb saw their corks removed systematically and with gentle, almost loving care, he tipped each sample out into the air.
Where they should have fallen, each of the eight pollen samples simply gathered in the air before him; eight small orbs of glittering color and light, the gentle wind and steadily thickening atmosphere of power growing and growing with each passing second. With the eighth and final orb of pollen floating before him, Harry slowly and methodically returned the vials to his satchel before returning it to his side. The presence of the Dryad over his shoulder had since been forgotten and the sleeping fawn at his side had only nestled its head deeper into his form contently.
The young Elf's eyes closed shut, golden light still burning like the sun even through his eyelids as he placed his hands in his lap, cupped together to form a bowl.
Breath in. The trees groaned in the wind.
Breath out. The river bubbled over rocks.
Breath in. The sunlight dimmed as it hit and filtered through a green tinged field that formed several feet out.
Breath out. Twisting, gnarled roots faded into being around him, twisting like vines.
Breath in. a sharp intake of breath, distant, unimportant by his side.
Breath out.
The eight pollen orbs were by this point more akin to simple globes of pure light as they began to orbit the body of the Druid-in-training, their lights pulsing like a heartbeat with each pulse growing brighter and brighter.
Another breath and the Dream had fully manifested itself at the riverbank. The air itself had since taken a green tinge with even the soft beams of sunlight that breached the limits of the Dream's influence taking the same emerald hue. Harry's form had become beaded with perspiration; fatigue creeping up on him from the strenuous undertaking.
At an unseen signal one of the eight lights came to a stop directly before Harry's face, barely a foot from his nose before it gently floated down to rest within the cup of his hands.
A moment later and the second joined it in his hands. With the addition of the second orb of light the color shifted to a darkened silver with motes of white light flickering through almost like starlight.
Over the course of the following hour, each of the other six lights would follow the path of the first two, coming to a stop before Harry and then drifting down to join their fellows in his hands. Each time a light joined the others the silver coloring would grow brighter and brighter.
By the end, with the accumulated light held within his hands, the orb of light was no longer contained to its marble sized shape but rather it filled the entirety of the space within his grasp, pulsing with a steady heartbeat.
A heartbeat later and Harry moved for the first time in an hour. He raised his hands up, still cupped together to hold the steadily pulsing light, arms shaking from fatigue and exertion, and slowly, carefully, pressed them together.
Pushing the light in on itself, compressing it together as he poured every ounce of remaining energy and power collected from the Emerald Dream through his core, to his arms, his hands and then into the shrinking light.
His whole body started to shake more and more violently the further he compressed the light before, without warning, he collapsed.
The fragment of the Emerald Dream vanished in an instant, returning to the greater Dream near instantaneously without the tether holding it in place. The potent miasma of power that had been breathed into the area faded away and the lights and sounds of Azeroth returned.
The sleeping fawn had jolted awake at the suddenness of it all and fled.
And the Dryad that had been there, watching in awe at the entire event squeaked in surprise before catching the completely drained and unconscious Har'rin Whisperwind, staring wide eyed at what was clutched in his right hand.
A single golden seed. Fully formed. Completely real.
XxxX
Consciousness came back to him slowly. Muted sounds, someone talking? Two voices; one deep and rich with power while the other was light and musical.
Harry pulled in a breath as he lay, wherever he was. His memory was foggy. He recalled the last thing he did before passing out; success in his desire to create the seed that he would gift to his mother. But what followed, confused him.
He remembered green. The telltale landscape of the Emerald Dream was undeniable. But he could not firmly recall anything else as his disembodied spirit wandered it. A being of great power, large and as vast as the Dream itself. Eyes, watching him, lidded and old. And then? Nothing.
"...nderstand Father, it should not be possible. I keep look at it and I can see that it exists in both the Emerald Dream and here in the material plane." The musical voice.
"Yes, I am aware my child. You have made your confusion well known to me for several days now." The powerful voice.
"But it's impossible! Not even you could do such a thing. To essentially craft new and stable life? It just can't be done!"
A deep, rumbling laughter. "And yet, it is. You are correct of course. Before today I would have told you that such a thing would be impossible. Never before would I even consider such a possibility. But, to see it now. I can understand how my Thero'shan managed such a thing. It is very possible I may even be able to replicate the ritual."
"What do you mean you'd never consider it a possibility?"
Harry's eyes squinted open, the conversation drawing him further and further back to the world of the living. His golden eyes peered through the still lingering gaze to see the powerful form of Cenarius smiling widely, his own gold eyes shining with a joyful pride.
"Ah but that, dear daughter, is the greatest source of strength belonging to the one called Har'rin Whisperwind. He does not accept the world as it is, but instead questions why it is as it is. If I had told him that this was futile he would not simply believe me, he would ask why and determine for himself the validity of my words or as it is in this case, prove me wrong."
"But-"
"Hush now, it seems he has finally awoken."
With a quite groan of exertion, Harry heaved himself up on his elbows before bringing himself to a seated position.
Only to crash back down when a purple and green blur literally smacked into him with the force of a landslide.
That face, that perfectly beautiful face and bright gold eyes locked onto his own as the Dryad grabbed him by the shoulders and started shaking him madly.
"You're not dead! Good I have so many questions. How did you do that? What madness possessed you to think you could even pull that off? How did you pull in that much power without dying? Why didn't you die? I'm so glad your not dead. Why aren't you answering me!?"
Another rumble of laughter saw Harry look up at a highly amused Cenarius with an almost accusatory glare. The bliss of unconsciousness was looking good at this point with how intensely the Dryad was shaking him. As if she was trying to literally shake the answers free from his body.
Finally the Keeper of the Wilds stepped forward, reaching out with his wooden arm toward the pair. "Calm yourself daughter, I fear you will get nothing from young Har'rin if you continue to shake him like that."
Thankfully his words had some effect as the shaking lessened as she turned to look up to her father with a confused expression. "Are you sure? I thought mortal races responded to tactile connection when talking?"
The ancient Keeper smothered another laugh as he reached down to gently pull the Dryad away from the lightheaded and dizzy Night Elf. "To a somewhat lesser degree you will find daughter. Now why don't we let Har'rin onto his feet and get some food into him, he is most likely quite hungry by now. Answers can come later."
Harry had to resist the urge to squeak when he saw the Dryad somehow both glare at him as if everything was his fault while also pouting at her father.
Finally, just moments before he started to squirm under the heat of her gaze, the Dryad finally turned away with a huff to walk across the glade he had awoken in.
Cenarius just smiled in a fond amusement before turning away to look down to him.
"Are you well young Har'rin? No lingering weakness?"
The young Kaldorei shook his head as he picked himself up from the bedding of moss he had been placed on and rose to his feet, taking a moment to steady himself and clear the cobwebs still clouding his mind before returning his own attention to his teacher.
"Just a momentary fatigue from rest. Thank you for your concern Shand'o." the young elf bowed at the shoulders before quickly snapping a hand up.
An apple smacked into the open palm of his hand and he turned around quickly and ducked his head to the side when another apple flew by, just narrowly missing his ear. Harry blinked when he saw the Dryad holding maybe a half dozen apples in one arm with her other already raised to throw another at him, her own eyes narrowed at him.
"Ah, you will have to forgive Lunara; she is still young and has not yet had the opportunity to know you as I have." Cenarius explained, reaching out himself to snatch a flying apple as it ricocheted off the purple elf's forehead. "She has yet to see just how surprising you can be in taking in my lessons and surpassing them."
Harry couldn't stop the blush that came over him at the praise, ducking his head and biting into his apple in an attempt to distract himself from the approval his mentor was showing him. He had never been one to stand in the spotlight, it was, not uncomfortable, but made him feel awkward; as if he were some faker pretending to be someone far better than he was. There were times that he felt as if Cenarius was fully aware of this and praised him at times just to make fun.
By now the Dryad; Lunara, had given up on hurling fruit at him and had seated herself a distance away by the creek that flowed through Cenarius' grove, eating at her own apple and very clearing pretending he no longer existed given that she had completely turned to face away from him. It was distracting somewhat in that even now Harry could not help but take note of the beauty in how she held herself. It was definitely something more than just physical appeal in this attraction he was feeling. He had no explanation for it and that in itself was unwelcome to him.
"But I must confess Thero'shan; I am disappointed that you would take such a risk without first alerting me to your intentions." Cenarius reproached sternly, his golden eyes hardening in concern. "I cannot impress upon you enough to tell you how fortuitous you are to have survived such an undertaking. My daughter has shown to me the fruits of your labor and I understand now that you would have been required to channel far more power from the Emerald Dream than your body and spirit is currently capable of. In all honesty; you should be dead."
Harry blinked at the bluntness of the Great Druid. He had understood the risks of what he had done long before he had undertaken the ritual. Or at least, he had thought he understood them. He didn't believe he would have died. His worst case scenario would had only been limited to perhaps burning himself out, maybe some form of immolation via mystical power. Not Death.
"The Emerald Dream is a realm and power possessing vast energy." Cenarius continued, holding his arms outstretched as a halo of vibrant green power washed over his form. "It is the power of all that Azeroth has been, is and ever will be."
Lunara had, at this, returned her attention back to the student-teacher pair, drawn to the expression of natural magic her father had released.
"As such, no creature; not you, not myself, not even the great Aspect of the Dream; Lady Ysera herself can take in even a fraction of this power without consequence." Cenarius released the power he had gathered and in a single pulse, flowers and saplings bloomed within the glade. "You must be mindful of this. Never reach beyond your limit without first understanding what waits for you there. I could not bear to learn of your death because of it."
Harry nodded slowly, shame showing on his face as he lowered his eyes to look from his teacher to the grass at his feet. "I understand. Forgive me Shand'o."
Cenarius smiled at his student and approached him to place a powerful hand on the young elf's shoulder. "It is the privilege of the young to make mistakes and the burden of the old to temper them. Simply heed my words and continue to grow as you have."
The young druid-in-training nodded as his straightened his form, returning his golden eyes to meet that of his mentors. "But, how will I know my limits to be sure not to make this mistake again?"
A bark of laughter shot out of the now widely smiling Keeper of the Grove as he lifted his hand to clap it soundly back down on the Night Elf's shoulder, staggering the smaller man. "That, my young student, is for you to learn on your own."
Harry suppressed the urge to groan. It couldn't be simple now could it?
"Now I would love nothing more than for you to go over exactly what you did and how you performed such a miracle. But I imagine your mother will be quite concerned with you. It has been a week since Lunara brought you back to my Grove after all."
Harry's eyes widened before he went deathly pale.
'A Week?! Elune's Tears! Mother is going to skin me alive.' He mentally cried; already mentally conjuring the image of the monstrous form of his mother waiting at home, darkness in her eyes.
"Come, Lunara will bring you your things; including that wondrous seed you created and escort you home. Perhaps during the trip you can make up for what wrong you have done to her."
Harry narrowed his eyes and glared up at his mentor. "Wrong I have done? I haven't done an Elune Damned thing!"
Cenarius just smiled before shaking his head as he turned and walked off. "Ah my dear naive Har'rin. You will learn, in time, that in matters like this. It is always your fault."
XxxXxxXxxX
A/N:
So chapters will be a bit on the short side starting in for this story. This is due to techinically being in what we would consider the 'Prologue Arc.' we are setting up the world that Harry is finding himself in as well as who Harry himself is becoming. Chapter content will get longer as events progress so please be patient.
As always: read, REVIEW!, fav, follow, REVIEW AGAIN!
There is a schedule (I won't bother repeating its order at this time any more), which should see a chapter coming out at least once a month, maybe sooner if the mood strikes us. If you want more sooner then review more and more.
Please enjoy the flag ship of our writing and be gentle :D
