Glossary :
Yawken (Yor-ken) - a tree that has been disfigured by a certain force, usually a natural disaster like a hurricane or flood.



The ancient tree stood alone amongst the vines and bushes in the forest, broken, bent and split down the middle, it's dark bark rough and disfigured. The trees that were once so tightly clustered around it had all died eons ago and the ground which used to be green and full of life now lay dark and empty, green only appearing 10 meters away. The only inhabitants which remained were the crows; they filled the branches, giving the ancient yawken a bristly appearance despite its lack of leaves.

Today was different however, a murder no longer covered the tree, instead a hunched figure walked circles on the blackened ground, each intersecting with the others around it, forming intricate patterns. Suddenly the figure stopped, muttering words quickly under it's breath. The sky grew darker as it muttered, the incantations seemingly summoning swirling maelstroms, the circles marked onto the ground turned pitch black, appearing to glow with darkness. The muttering stopped, and the figure extended an old wheathered hand with cracked nails, fingers curled, unable to extend fully. Black lightning shot down from the hell above, striking it's hand yet causing no harm, instead the figure's hand lay closed, a sample of the lightning encased within. The hand withdrew into the dark cloak that covered their body. The garment lay still, not moving an inch despite the howling winds which whipped broken twigs into daggers as they flew through the air. The figure strode forward with confidence, removing it's hood at the same time.

Ragged black hair hung down her back contrasting to her stark face. Dark bags hung under the pale green eyes and her mouth was closed in a tight lipped grimace as she stepped through the circles towards the yawken. She drew closer and extended her hand, the air shimmering while a dark blue tinge formed in the air around her hand, the lightning crackling ominously while the air seemed to resist her. The muscles in her scrawny arm strained against the force, persevering until she connected with the tree. The moment her hand touched the rough bark, the sky cleared, the circles on the ground returned to normal and her entire body visibly relaxed. She collapsed on the ground, barely managing to stay on her knees, still touching the tree, and bowed her head, the surrounding forest fell silent in awe as the old yawken's leafless, broken branches began to sprout, the trunk slowly righted itself, the crack that cleaved it in twain pulling itself together again. Tufts of grass grew rapidly on the ground surrounding the tree, covering the circles with a familiar green hue.

The woman lay at the foot of the tree, feeling betrayed and empty, her face left hollow and aged, and every inch of her body had barely enough skin to cover the bone. The ancient green tree stood tall and menacing once again, another innocent, fallen victim to its charms and the hope of access to The Tower.