The soft hum of Shadowglen is a good place to learn how to listen. Today I answered Ilthalaine's call and set my paws to work — thinning the nightsaber packs to restore balance and fetching water from the moonwell until my arms ached with purpose. When I felled enough of those proud cats and returned, Ilthalaine smiled as if some old burden had lightened. I celebrated reaching level 2 with a quiet breath of the forest, feeling small and very alive.
Word of corruption drew me west, and I tracked greedy grell stealing from our stores. Their little raids proved less clever than their mischief, and I brought the stolen goods back to relieve our kitchens. Dentaria awaited between the pools and taught me to watch the moonwells with reverence; after that I gathered moonpetal lilies to brew an antidote for Iverron and found myself a step braver for it. Each task stitched me tighter to this place — and when I hit level 3 and then level 4 during a strange, fearsome crawl through Shadowthread cave, I could not help but grin at the gift of growth.
By the time the sun sank low I had faced Githyiss the Vile and marked the pattern of the corruption; the answers seem to coil farther than I first thought. I reached level 5 beneath the branches and felt the wilds hum approval — a small fanfare in my chest for the next road ahead. Ilthalaine sent me on to Corithras with a phial of moonwell water; the journey continues, and I will keep my ears open to the whispers beneath the trees.