As the Silvrens battled the brutish Gloomtreads across the unnamed continent, their hearts began to knit together, the crucible of war forging anew the unity Tanes had long proclaimed. From Nuahaven’s plains to the Titan Spires, from the Azure Veil’s shores to the forested ridges, cave-dwellers, sea folk, and mountain folk shared strategies and sorrows, their separate customs blending like streams into the Silvren River. Thalion’s stonecraft aided Vaelina’s net-weaving, and Eliron’s forest traps bolstered Sylvaraen’s ambushes. Under the three moons—Luneth, Sylvara, and Korath—the Silvrens fought as one, their spears and nets felling the dim-witted giants, yet the Gloomtreads’ numbers seemed unending, their roars a shadow over the land.
Then, under Solara’s blazing zenith, a miracle unfolded. From the distant horizons, beyond the plains where Velithons roamed, came giant lizards, vaster than any Dreadmaw or Spikecrest, their scales glinting like molten iron, their jaws wide as cave mouths. These “Titanclaws,” as the Silvrens named them, descended upon the Gloomtreads with terrifying efficiency. In the Battle of Shattered Plains, the lizards tore through the giants, claws rending flesh and tails shattering bones. Many Gloomtreads fell as they fled, their massive forms crumpling under the relentless assault, their blood soaking the earth like a sacrificial offering. The Titanclaws, with eyes like burning coals, passed by the Silvrens without so much as a glance, their hunger fixed solely on the brutish titans.
The Silvrens, awestruck, gathered in Nuahaven’s square. Vaelina, her nets still stained with battle, whispered, “These lizards spared us, as Nua spared us from the Dreadmaws. Surely, they are her instruments.”
Eliron, leaning on his spear, added, “The ancient giants, builders of the Titan Spires, must have fallen to such beasts. Their wisdom could not save them, but Nua shields us.”
Tanes, her hair now silvered like Sylvara’s light, nodded. “The Eternal Shaper weaves even destruction into harmony. The Gloomtreads’ discord—slaying their syrens—brought this doom. Our unity invites Nua’s mercy.”
When the last Gloomtread lay dead or had fled beyond the Titan Spires, the Silvrens convened a great council under the Starlit Canopy’s new-world kin, their fires casting long shadows. Thalion, Vaelina, Eliron, and elders like Liranae swore allegiance to their reunification, their voices rising in unison: “We are one people, Silvrens under Nua, bound by the trinity and Galoth’s wisdom!” They drafted a declaration, echoing the sacred tablets of Galoth, inscribed with laws prohibiting discord and misbond, urging mercy even for Discordants, rejecting false gods, and forbidding unjust wars. Lirys, a syren skilled in stonecraft from her years in the caves, chiseled the covenant onto new tablets, her hands guided by faith as she carved beneath Korath’s crimson gaze.
The tablets, named the Covenant of Nuahaven, read: “Honor Nua’s trinity—syren, female, male in sacred sequence. Shun discord, the out-of-order union that births Discordants. Avoid misbond, the barren rift of incomplete bonds. Live as one, as the beasts in harmony, and let mercy guide even the shadowed. Reject Boana’s lies and wage peace under Solara and the three moons.”
Tanes, now frail with age, her steps slow as the Lunara’s flow, retreated to a secluded grove near Nuahaven, where a stream sang of Nua’s eternal will. There, beneath a broad-leafed tree—not a Veilward—she dwelt in solitude, visited only by Silvrens seeking counsel. Thoryn, the youth who had spied the Gloomtreads’ sin, came once, asking, “Did we err in fighting, prophet?”
Tanes smiled, her eyes dim yet piercing. “You fought to live, Thoryn. Nua’s wisdom turned even war to unity. Go, and honor the Covenant.”
As her days waned, Tanes felt a presence in the grove, Nua’s voice manifesting not in shadows but in the rustling leaves, clear as the Azure Veil’s tides. A long converse unfolded, Tanes’s heart heavy with doubt, Nua’s words a balm of infinite grace.
“Nua, Eternal Shaper,” Tanes began, her voice trembling, “have I failed you? I led your people from the Silvren Valley, but they drifted apart, inviting the Gloomtreads’ wrath. My warnings were ignored, and blood stained this land.”
Nua’s voice, like a chorus of winds, replied, “Tanes, faithful daughter, you have not failed. My plan weaves through mortal flaws. You spoke my will, urging unity when hearts strayed. The drift was their choice, yet it taught them the cost of division.”
“But the sea journey,” Tanes pressed, “I faltered when they cut the Veilwards, sinking Nuadrift. I could not bind their faith.”
“You guided them to Mercydrift,” Nua soothed. “The Veilwards’ fall was a lesson in obedience, yet my mercy bore you to this continent. Your chastisements were just, your faith unwavering.”
Tanes wept, “The Gloomtreads—did I not warn enough? So many died, and I feared Boana triumphed.”
“The Gloomtreads were my mirror,” Nua said, “showing the Silvrens their own peril in discord. You revealed their sin—slaying syrens—and through war, you forged unity. The Titanclaws were my hand, sparing my chosen while cleansing opposition. All was as I willed.”
“And the Covenant?” Tanes asked. “Will it endure, or will they stray again?”
“The Covenant of Nuahaven is Galoth’s wisdom reborn,” Nua affirmed. “You led them to inscribe it, binding their hearts. They will falter, for mortals are frail, but your work plants the seed of harmony. You have walked my path perfectly, Tanes.”
Tanes bowed her head, tears falling like rain. “I am unworthy of such grace, Shaper. I doubted, yet you guided.”
“My love knows no bounds,” Nua said. “Rest now, for your task nears its end.”
In her final act, Tanes, with trembling hands, inscribed the complete history of her people upon scrolls of woven bark, drawing from the oral tales of the elders and her own visions. She transcribed the memorized text of The Book of Galoth, from Elyria’s creation by Nua’s clay to the wanderer’s tablets, weaving it with the Silvrens’ journey: the exodus from the Silvren Valley, the drift across the Azure Veil, the trials of Nuadrift and Mercydrift, and the wars with the Gloomtreads. This tome, named The Chronicle of Elyria, became the Silvrens’ sacred legacy, copied by scribes and spread across Nuahaven’s growing villages, each copy a beacon of Nua’s truth.
Tanes passed under Luneth’s gentle light, her body laid to rest by the grove’s stream, her spirit ascending to Nua’s embrace. The Silvrens mourned, yet rejoiced, for The Chronicle and the Covenant of Nuahaven stood as her eternal gift, guiding them as one people under Solara and the three moons, their unity a shield against Boana’s ever-lurking shadow.
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