Gwyn Revere, Tale of a Tumbling Village

As the weary traveler abandons the covered cities of the Inner Yekiach, it's fairly likely that they'll stumble upon the first line of twisted trees that indicate the rim of the Gwyn. Two warnings are given to those ever so bold to step into the warped grove. The first is to never lean on the trees, as the Arehel may be awaiting under the ground for prey. But the second has little to do with the vicious creatures that inhabit the woods. 

Whatever you do, never light a bonfire. The forest remembers. They can't forget.

Fear is enough for the populace to whisper the name of the coven that claims the forest as their home. Even the children know that it's best to not draw the ire of the Gwyn Revere. To etch the memory of how they came to be. Of how fear also changed them.

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Seeking Refuge

With no indication of a year or a moment in time, it's said that a group of women, practitioners of the arcane arts, fled the Thorom Mounts that separate the Sections of Erio and Yekiach. Unjustly accused of causing a great catastrophe, those who gave chase bore a mark of white ash and dark thorns. But the monsters traveled slow and, as their hearts were heavy and their feet burning, the haste in their steps led them to a great forest, greater than any other in all Barenae. The canopy was eerie and the trees were twisted, but they couldn't have hoped for a more beautiful solution. It would be the perfect hideout for their family.

And so they hid until the trails had died out. Knowing that going back home was not an option, they decided to tame the wilderness and make their home. With just the right materials and the appropriate amount of magic, grew the biggest tree in that magnificent forest, and from its boughs hanged their houses. That was the inception of the Gwyn Revere.

Shadow of Doubt

And as the coven grew and new people joined seeking understanding of the world around them, the Revere became strong and took hold of the forest not by force, but by a strong drive to protect the forest from outsiders, as they protected outsiders from the forest.

Among all of those who led the group through the years, the tale speaks of a Djanira, a witch of great power that could speak to every single being of the forest. But this great gift hid the fact that the voices piled up in her mind and spoke to her constantly, feeding into her fears. She constantly thought that she was not worthy enough of her position, that in any moment the others, much greater than her would notice and banish her for even trying to take hold of the coven. She truly believed that her peers expected her to do something terrible at any moment. Until her heart couldn't take it anymore and she decided to prove them right.

The flames climbed the sides of the tree, showing through a dark night the terrible actions of she who the witched trusted most. As the branches couldn't resist the weight, the houses fell down to the ground. Sturdy as they were, none broke and their inhabitants suffered no damage. But the harm was done. Djanira had just broken that silent promise that they had done to each other lives ago, to always care for their family, for their home.

Silent Ember

Through the tears, Djanira could feel the heat of the flames roar the names of her predecessors. As she raised her gaze, as the houses grew and fled the fire, she caught a vision of her own future. Of being crushed by all she had built. She would have welcomed it, but fate didn't respect anyone's time, and so that prophecy was to be fulfilled much later.

The once strong family of witches was now scattered and isolated, marked by petty rivalries and wounds not properly healed. The Gwyn became a strong council, leaders of the woods. And Djanira, who roamed the snow-covered paths, had been a vital part of that change. Of letting the scorn she felt towards herself infect her sisters. She could not think, she could not express what she felt. She only felt her eyes closing next to the bonfire that she had lit to give her warmth.

It was months later from the burning of the Revere tree that a sleeping Djanira would meet her terrible fate. As she camped near the site where the disaster had taken place, her house, the only one to stay beneath the rubble and the embers, was freed as the surrounding rocks got loose and it rolled down the hills, crushing the trees in a rampage that could only be headed towards that single light in the night. To crush she who had stained the memories of the house.

And so the light of the bonfire attracts disaster.

Summercamp 2021 Prompt #9: A myth or fairytale, about a prophecy, oracle, fortune-telling, or other revelation.