Lathlaeril is an Elf who works in the fields with his family. His milia on his right ear showed that he was a happy razna and his couple had recently welcomed a baby. He couldn't wait to see him grow up, but worry also gnawed at his heart. His parents had given him land to cultivate to feed his family, but working it so in order to keep it well-organized and abundant took too much time. He wanted big fruit trees, well-marked paths, a wooden bridge made from the roots of the oak trees he'd planted... Fearing he wouldn't be able to provide enough for his family and his village, he decided to go to the heart of the forest to pray to Fysi with all his might to make his trees and crops grow faster.
The deity appeared before him, magnificent and radiant. In his eyes, the luminous masculine appearance was a perfect representation of his faith. Fysi agreed to help him, but not without some effort on his part: he would have to overcome several challenges in order to get his rewards. Lathlaeril was ecstatic and accepted immediately, before asking what the first trial was.
“Climb the highest mountains in the land and bring me a shooka. It's a rare purple and amber-colored fruit that grows in thorny bushes amidst the immaculate snow,” Fysi said.
“Whatever you desire, I'll fetch it for you!”
Without further ado, the Elf set off to explore the mountains for many moons. He had repeatedly encountered creatures upset by his presence on their territory, and had had to cope with the bitter cold and lack of oxygen at high altitude. His determination paid off when he finally found the much-desired fruit, which he put in his bag before returning to the forest. Once there, he was greatly embarrassed to find that the fruit had gone rotten. Fysi appeared and laughed softly.
"The food on our beautiful planet is not eternal, so goes life. Perhaps it's better to think otherwise, young child.”
Lathlaeril apologized and asked for the next challenge, promising to pass. Fysi looked at him for a moment, his curly leaf-green hair decorated with a thousand plants dancing slowly in the wind. Finally, he opened his mouth.
"Bring me a crystal flower from Shikymra's lake."
It was a long journey, but these flowers were known never to wither. Emboldened, the Elf accepted and set off on his journey. He made his way to the port and sailed through the tumult of the ocean to these foreign lands, where he faced a different crowd than the one he was used to. The Rokaths neither helped him nor welcomed him. They all thought his quest was foolish and advised him to think twice before doing anything. Lathlaeril turned a deaf ear and made his own way to the sacred lake. He got lost along the way, encountering animals such as karapots that were fantastic and majestic, but also poisonous. A Chorreda caravan saved him from certain death and, in gratitude, he agreed to repair some of their clothes.
The time he spent with them allowed him to learn their language and incredible customs. One day, a Chorreda gave him the right direction as a sign of friendship, and he was able to make his way to the long-desired lake. At the water's edge, he noticed the reflections of the shimmering flowers made of blue crystal on the lake' surface. With great care, he picked one and thanked Shikymra by dropping some fruit into the water to feed the lake's fish.
He made his way back to the port, now that he knew the country better, and returned to the land of his birth. Overjoyed, he ran through the forest to the usual spot, calling for Fysi. However, when he took the flower out of his pouch, it was broken. The deity laughed softly, as he had done the first time.
“Even if we think some things can last forever, they're still fragile. Isn't it wonderful to appreciate the present moment for what it is?" the divinity said.
"Would you have another challenge?" the Elf asked, embarrassed, "I'd overcome them all."
Fysi pondered for a moment, the flowers around him blooming and withering over and over in an infinite cycle. Finally, he spoke.
“Tame a white kazan and lead it here.”
He bit his lower lip anxiously. These beasts were known to be proud and wild, and even Rokaths were held in awe by them. Despite all of this, he was determined and set off as quickly as possible to talk to the Rokaths on this continent. The Kettoss people were skeptical about his quest, but they didn't stop him from trying. One of their hunters taught Lathlaeril about kazans for several djamns before leading him to a wild white specimen. The Elf used everything he had learned and tried to coax the animal: food, peaceful presence and song. Nothing worked.
One fine vecca, the white kazan was targeted by karapots, so the Elf came to his assistance and prevented him from being devoured. The animal was seriously injured, so he took care of him until he was fully recovered. A strong friendship developed between them, but he was still not allowed to ride on his back. Happy and grateful, he didn't force the animal and asked him to follow him. The two of them made their way to the forest of his village to meet Fysi. He proudly presented the kazan, which the deity tenderly petted.
“A magnificent beast indeed. You've passed your challenge."
“Really? You're going to turn my land into a flourishing garden?”
"I need not act."
Surprised, Lathlaeril stared at him for a few seconds, feeling somewhat hurt by what he thought was a sudden betrayal.
“Forgive me, but how's this?”
“My child, your journey to fulfill your impatience has lasted entire cycles. Honorable is your determination, but is the price you've paid worth it?”
Mouth agape, his panic seized his heart as he realized how long it had been since he'd left home. Without further ado, he ran back to his village, the kazan at his heels. His village had evolved and his land was resplendent. The two oak trees, grown from the acorns he had placed in the ground, stood proudly for several feets, their roots entwined until they formed a bridge over the river to reach the fields. The latter were framed by sumptuous wooden fences, and gravel paths allowed easy access between the various plots. As for the fruit trees, they were large and generous.
A person creamed behind him with shock, making him turn around, only to discover a young man, accompanied by an older couple and a child. He recognized one of the three Elves as his now remarried razna, so he could easily deduce that the adult was none other than his son, holding the hand of his own offspring. His quest to gain time had brought him a thousand adventures and experiences, but he had unfortunately missed out on what he valued most: the people he loved and the life he had with them.
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