Hornbeam

The young Imperial knew that his life could end any day. Born of a notoriously fragile species, his parents told him to always be wary but also to fill his days with joy and discovery. He did so, choosing to settle in the Shrieking Wilds so that his days and nights would be thick with the joys of Nature. He tended to a small garden among the large boughs and shrubs, nursing even the tiniest of flowers to their full potential. He took charge of some saplings in the hopes that one day they would reach the sky.

He wasn't entirely surprised when he felt his body begin to fail him, but it saddened him all the same. Raising his head one last time to admire the verdant canopy sprawling above him, he let out a small, mournful roar. He then lay down among the moss and tree roots, his eyes looking to his tiny garden, taking in its quiet beauty as darkness fell over him.

An Imperial's soul is a restless thing. Upon death it does not immediately pass over to whatever lies next. It remains in the world for an unspecified amount of time, and it can quickly turn malicious. The Imperial's spirit hovered around its former body, as though considering its next move.


In amongst the shadows, a tiny voice called out. It was just below the perception of most.


The soul of the Imperial looked up. It did not expect to hear a voice. It was somewhat soothed by this, and curious too.


The Imperial looked around. The memories of his past life grew faint, but something familiar rang. He looked to a sapling he had been tending. It was barely a sprout in comparison to the giant trees around it. He had nurtured it as best he could, keeping herbivorous animals at bay.

Some emotion stirred within the Imperial. He guided himself towards the tree and hovered before it. There it was - the fragile scrap of a tree that he had loved so much. That he had shaped with his own claws.


The tiny voice grew louder, more insistent. The Imperial felt some heavy emotions - he remembered what sadness was. He leaned forward and wrapped his form around the tree, not knowing what else to do. What cruel fate this was to feel the emotions of the living and not be able to act upon them.

It was then that the world became slightly more curious. The strong emotions of the sapling resonated deeply within the Imperial's soul. When an Imperial's soul stirs sometimes the most horrible of things can occur, but this time it was miraculous. There was a soft glowing light that gradually became brighter, until the Shrieking Wilds resonated with light for the first time since creation. Nocturnal animals hissed and fled to darker reaches. The Gladekeeper herself cast a curious eye over proceedings.

Then the light faded. As the shadows returned once more, a strange Imperial stood at its source and the Imperial's soul and tree had disappeared.


The tiny voice spoke once more, this time full of excitement. It did not come forth from the strange Imperial's mouth, but rather from something internal.

The Imperial stood still for some time. This was a body again, right? It felt like a body. Head, body, legs, wings, and tail - they were all there but it felt different - somewhat colder and lighter.


It slowly dawned on the Imperial what had occurred and where his soul now rested. He looked over himself more carefully - bark instead of scales. That was new. Had he the ability to move his mouth (the tree didn't know how, and the Imperial couldn't remember) at this point the Imperial would have smiled.

Carefully manoeuvring his legs into a walking pattern he set out to find a suitable clearing. Once found, he spread his wings - now plant fibre instead of skin - and with a mighty whoosh he was airborne and soaring over the treetops.


The tiny voice was filled with childlike enthusiasm and awe. No one needed to be alone now.