The Sentinels donnelaith

smelly is with her, so beware her humongo guard doge

she had dreamt of this place, and she saw it now as it was then—

the burnt and fallen trees were tall, taller than anything she had ever remembered seeing, reaching up and up and up, but at the sight of her they seemed to lower, to observe, to greet. she felt the whispers of memory, and her emerald eyes gleamed at the world that surrounded her. a blink, and the curtain fell—what surrounded her was death. the witch could have wept at the sight, but her eyes fell to a trace of greenery, and at once she moved to it, whispering a remembered spell to encourage it. relief was plain upon her soft features as she looked over her shoulder to her husband.

the place looked gravely wounded, but as she turned to the wood once more she sang a song of rebirth and resurrection, moving inward, standing tall and proud despite the pain she felt to see the hurt wrought upon this place. the wildlife had quieted, but had begun to sing with her, and when her melody ceased she stood before a familiar ring.

deirdre paused before it, marveling. the flames had not licked the sacred place, and the wisps had led her here. there was a terribly familiar feeling, and when she looked across from her she saw blue, she saw emerald—she knew this, she had dreamt of this, too, and a name unwittingly fell from her lips as she closed her eyes and summoned: emaleth. that name! it was a name that belonged to her, a name the wind wrapped around and carried. deirdre had come to find what she had lost, and here it was.

the queen lifted her head and beyond the ash and blooming flora, she breathed in emaleth.