mana leak

What has changed? Honestly, Luka couldn't even begin to explain.

These days, he looks around the beautiful and perfectly maintained forest and feels discontent. No, if it was merely boredom then he wouldn't feel like this. It's more of an aggressive revulsion. Every design is the same, he thinks.Swirling and peaceful and so disgustingly /static./ Even the birds he's so carefully raised have lost their luster.

The other elves have become increasingly afraid of their leader, who has become something of a tyrant, at least where the old ways were concerned. Once they were pleased to show him their new architecture and artwork, but now it's a miracle if he doesn't violently reject it, chastising them for daring to waste his time with such an eyesore.

But at such a rejection of the old, he and the rest of his charges are being struck with inspiration, sudden and hot like bolts of lightning. As the old falls away, new, bombastic attitudes take its place as the plane gradually reshapes, built by an intense new passion. Luka will occasionally withdraw, gripped by intense visions of what once seemed impossible but now is so clear. When he emerges, he always brings with him new plans that grip the population, building Rilmanal to new heights.

The thing that worries his neighbors more than anything is that he shows no intention of stopping this forward advance. He's grasped onto an entirely new concept of beauty, and he intends to have the entire plane witness it.

--

The waters have changed.

Zerah can feel it, every time he drinks from the mountain springs. They have been poisoned, not with any substance, but by that which is clearly unnatural. He feels the energy flickering against his tongue, sending images creeping into his mind about departing from the cycle of life, improving it not through tooth and claw, but through destroying and rebuilding what was already perfect.

The new, corrupted waters have brought him terrible dreams, of blighted landscapes where not a single heart beats. Rain that scours away the trees instead of nourishing them, but leaves the metal horrors that roam the land untouched. He hears the creeking and ticking of their awful, cold bodies, how they systematically destroy that which is still truly alive, polluting the rivers with a deadly, pearlescent sheen.

The worst part of these dream is that when he is still lost in him, there is some part of him that likes what he sees. Progress, the dream seems to say. And for a few horrible moments, he seems to agree.

He wakes up every time in disgust, seething with a rage he has never felt the likes of before. He knows what he is seeing is a vision of what future will come if he doesn't take action, and destroy this intruding force. But perhaps what is worse is that if he hesitates for too long, he too will be consumed by this desire for so-called progress.

The only thing left to do is to crush whatever is causing this before that happens.

--

Alois swears he sees it out of the corner of his eye. A tiny thing that scurries like a mouse, glinting in the candlelight like a ruby.

Of course, he knows that the Manaliths can't leave the center of their plane. It is merely a vision, nothing more. But it is a vision that represents the fear and anger in his heart that his grip on the city might be slipping as the streaks of red make their way down the streets. He knows that they're what is sewing discontent among his formerly-loyal subjects, allowing courage to overcome his carefully-cultivated fear. Disgusting.

As much as he'd like to believe that he is still above the influence, part of him knows that he is succumbing, slowly but surely, as well. His temper has been flaring, sending fur rippling over his skin as before he knows it he's taken on his chiropteran form and is draining the life out of a simple messenger. But perhaps the fiery spirit that has gripped his land might be more of a boon than he thought. If he can no longer rule through veiled threats, then he will just have to make the danger real, won't he? The solution is so simple: Become such a monster that they will have no choice but to submit.

A brutish solution, but an elegant one.

--

It was something entirely unheard of, that left the warrens in uneasiness and fear. There had been a murder.

The rabbitfolk were not strangers to death. Occasionally, one would wander too close to the woods and be taken by the wolves. They understood that this was the natural cycle, predator and prey. What had happened, however, was rabbitfolk taking the life of one of their own, in the dead of night, in cold blood.

No one knew who did it, or why. What could they have hoped to gain, everyone wondered. Why would anyone disturb their peace like this? This sole act sewed the seeds of mistrust in the rabbitfolk. In their desparation to find the culprit, cliques began to form and rumors spread through the tunnels like wildfire. So-called level heads started to emerge in these groups, whispering to the others that everyone else was part of a grand conspiracy, and if they were allowed to live, then the lives of all that dwell in the burrows would be thrown into chaos.

Peace dissolved and suspicion grew into hatred. More murders followed and the rabbitfolk didn't blink an eye. The warrens ran with blood.

Japik, whose life once was given meaning by inspiring his brothers and sisters to defend their burrows from intruders, watched as those same rabbits he loved slowly destroyed each other. With nothing left in his village, he surrendered himself to the invading force that had crept into their minds and hearts, hoping it would give him the strength to rebuild what had been lost.