Nolavor

"Before the ancient oaks first spread their leaves, before the first acorn took root in virgin soil, Nolavor dreamed of forests vast and deep. His dreams became our world's first woodlands, and his death left them twisted beyond recognition."

The Book of Lost Groves

Among the first hundred Eeirendel, Nolavor emerged as a force of natural order, his domain encompassing the mighty deciduous forests that would spread across Zerthia. Unlike many of his divine kin who claimed dramatic elements like fire or storm, Nolavor's power lay in the quiet strength of growing things, in the patient turning of seasons, and in the eternal dance between life and decay.

From his earliest days, Nolavor worked in harmony with Liet-Nom, goddess of evergreen forests. Their complementary natures - his forests embracing change while hers remained steadfast - created the perfect balance needed to establish Zerthia's great woodlands. Together they shaped the world's first forest realms, their combined power birthing ecosystems of staggering complexity and beauty.

In shadow-dappled glades he strode,
Where ancient oaks reached high,
Each footfall blessed the woodland road,
Each breath a forest's sigh.

- The Lay of the Forest Lord

The birth of his children marked both Nolavor's greatest joy and the seeds of his eventual destruction. Gartrin and Boria, born of his divine essence, inherited his deep connection to the natural world. Yet they also carried something else - an ambition that would eventually corrupt their sacred charge and lead them down darker paths.

"He gave us dominion over saplings while keeping the ancient groves for himself. How could we not yearn for more? The Black Fire promised what birthright denied us."

- Recovered fragment of Boria's confession

As the First Black Fire War erupted across the realms, Nolavor initially stood as a bulwark against corruption. His forests served as sanctuaries for those fleeing the conflict, their ancient magics providing protection against the encroaching darkness. But he never suspected the greatest threat would come from within his own divine family.
The betrayal, when it came, struck with devastating precision. His children, seduced by Malovatar's promises of power, turned their intimate knowledge of his domain against him. Sacred groves became death traps, blessing circles transformed into snares, and the very trees he had nurtured since creation's dawn became weapons in their patricidal arsenal.

O Forest Father, who walked beneath The first-grown leaves of time, Forgive your children's broken faith, Their dark and bitter crime.

- Reclaimer's Lament

During the catastrophic collapse of the Matrix of Earth, Nolavor gathered with other forest deities in Southern Lietnom, attempting one final ritual to cleanse the corruption spreading through their realms. They could not know that their own children led Malovatar's forces toward their sacred circle, or that their efforts to heal would amplify the devastating energies about to be unleashed.

"The sky wept leaves of burning gold, while ancient trees screamed their death songs. Our lord's final cry shook the pillars of creation, and in the silence that followed, nothing remained pure."

- Witness to the Fall

Nolavor's death transformed the region forever. His divine essence, rather than dispersing naturally, became trapped and twisted by the Black Fire's corruption. The forests he had tended for millennia mutated into something monstrous - a dark reflection of their former glory where life and death merged in profane new forms.

Here fell a god of growing things,
When children's hands struck fatal blows,
Now poison blooms where joy once sprang,
And darkness where light once rose.

Some whisper that fragments of Nolavor's consciousness still linger in the oldest trees of his former domain. These ancient sentinels, they say, remember their divine shepherd and weep sap like blood when the wind blows from the north. Their memories poison the soil around them, creating patches where only the most twisted forms of life can flourish.
The corruption of his realm continued long after his death. Each attempt by his children to undo their crimes seemed to only drive the taint deeper, as if the land remembered their betrayal and rejected all possibility of redemption. Where Nolavor once walked in blessed harmony with nature, now only chaos reigns.

"In every corrupted grove, every twisted sapling, we see echoes of our lord's pain. The forest remembers, and in its memory lies our damnation."

- Gartrin's Lament

Stories persist of massive shapes glimpsed in the deepest parts of corrupted forests, moving with impossible grace through blighted canopies. These apparitions, neither fully divine nor wholly corrupt, are said to bear a horrifying resemblance to Nolavor's form. Whether they represent genuine fragments of his fractured divinity or merely manifestations of collective guilt remains unknown.
The Reclaimers keep detailed records of these sightings, along with accounts of strange phenomena associated with them. Trees bow in unnatural directions, their branches reaching toward these phantoms like supplicants before an altar. Animals fall silent, and even the corrupt creatures that now inhabit his former domain flee from these manifestations.

Lord of leaf and branch and bower,
Who taught the first trees how to grow,
Though darkness claimed your sacred power,
Your wisdom still runs deep below.

- Reclaimer's Hymn to Lost Divinity

Those who study divine essence say that Nolavor's death fundamentally altered the nature of forest magic in his former domains. Spells that once promoted growth now cause mutations, healing magic twists life in unexpected ways, and attempts to commune with nature reveal only madness and decay.
Modern scholars debate whether Nolavor truly died during the Matrix's collapse or if he underwent a transformation too profound for mortal comprehension. The increasing frequency of supernatural phenomena in the corrupted forests suggests his influence continues to shape his former domain, though perhaps no longer with conscious intent.

"The true horror lies not in our lord's death, but in the possibility that some part of him endures, watching as his beloved forests twist further into abomination with each passing Year."

- Unknown Reclaimer Scholar

The legacy of Nolavor serves as both warning and prophecy. His fall demonstrated that even the mightiest gods could be brought low by trust misplaced, while the endless corruption of his realm suggests some sins leave wounds in reality that can never truly heal.

Here ends the tale of one who gave
Life to the first of forest deep,
Betrayed by those he died to save,
In corrupted groves his secrets keep.
Though twisted now, his forests grow,
In darkness where once light did shine,
The price of love struck fatal blow,
When children spurned their trust divine.

- The Final Words of the Last Pure Grove