The Spires of Thennavar
Where the Wind Knows the Skys Name
Far to the north, where the land forgets how to lie flat and the stars seem close enough to touch, rise the jagged and majestic heights known as the Spires of Thennavar. This is the homeland of Clan Seabhac, the sky-bound watchers and visionaries of the Clans — a place where wind, stone, and prophecy intertwine.
The Spires are not a single mountain range, but a labyrinth of towering crags, broken mesas, and needle-thin ridges, carved by millennia of wind and ice. Snow clings to the shadows even in summer, and mists coil around the peaks like serpents at rest. The only flat places are the ancient sky-altars and ledges where falcons nest — and where druids kneel beneath the moon. Life in Thennavar clings to the edges: homes built into cliff faces, tethered with ropes and carved into stone; gardens hung in baskets that sway in the wind; rope bridges stretching across canyons deeper than thought. Everything here is done with care, balance, and deference to the wind. A careless step is a death sentence. A misread gust can scatter a life’s work across the void.
But to Clan Seabhac, these heights are not a hardship. They are a proving ground — a sanctuary for vision and clarity. The Seabhac believe that the higher one climbs, the more the soul sheds its burdens, and that only from great height can true patterns be seen. This is reflected in their customs: fledglings take their first rites on wind-shorn cliffs, and omens are read from the shape of cloud shadows on stone. The people of Thennavar are lean, quiet, and sharp-eyed. They speak little and listen well—not just to words, but to wind, birdsong, and the murmur of loose gravel on high passes. Their druids, trained in the aeries of stone and sky, are not only healers and guides but also sky-seers and lore-keepers, trusted to glimpse far-off dangers long before they touch the ground.
The Spires are not easily invaded, and outsiders rarely try. The only paths are narrow and shifting and are watched by falcon and druid alike. Yet Clan Seabhac is no hermit culture. They descend when they must — to trade, warn, or strike. And when they strike, they do so with the precision of a falling star: once, without warning, and to devastating effect. To the other Clans, the Spires of Thennavar are a place of reverence — or unease. It is said that in their highest eyries, the Seabhac still keep the bones of dreamseers in glass shrines, and that the wind that passes over those bones carries the scent of things yet to be. No voice raised in falsehood carries far in Thennavar. No ambition born in selfishness escapes its heights.
This is a land of clarity. A land of sight. A land where even the silence seems to watch.
“The wind does not speak often. But when it does, it is because someone has forgotten how to listen.” — High Druid Eira Skydancer
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