Submission (#6107) Approved

Scanning his surroundings, Chester hadn’t noticed anything too out of the ordinary aside from what he had already noticed. He supposed that was a good thing, considering how the borders weren’t typically visible, though if they were, this was a sure sign things were getting dangerous.

That said, the mana well being corrupted was already a cause for concern. No matter where he looked, all the mana crystals he came across were either cracked or dulled, or a combination of both. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch one, but with the visible mana bleed emanating from some, it was probably a good idea not to.

The swamp was still fairly quiet, though as he slowly moved farther from the contaminated area, he saw the vegetation begin to look better. Still, the lull in activity almost seemed to be hinting at a calm before the storm. Wildlife in general were often quite sensitive to the environment, and could often detect trouble or impending disasters, whether they be either through nature or artificial. After all, one could not hope to survive if they were not always cautious of their surroundings.

He supposed he should be thankful things were never really that bad for elnins. Sure, there were things that could certainly cause you harm, such as vicious creatures, malevolent feyfolk, and even daeva, but for the most part, as long as you stayed out of their way and didn’t purposely try provoking them or going to places where you shouldn’t be, you were fine. On occasion he would often hear of foolish elnin, often trying to prove a point or wanting to brag to their friends. Adult and kittom alike, these fools were often not heard from again or were marred in a way to signify their folly.

Of course, there were those that were just less fortunate, who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They would share their tales, warning others not to be foolish, lest they too be cursed or marked by mana flaw. It made him think of his only mana flaw, and he almost subconsciously reached out to touch a shard, only to instinctively pull back. For those who only started showing the symptoms of mana poisoning due to being exposed to it long enough, they first described the feeling as excruciatingly painful. Just a simple touch could cause a fracture, and in more serious cases, they could puncture the skin and stick out.

Considering Chester couldn’t remember much of his childhood or how he came to obtain such a trait, he wasn’t sure if the process had been painful for him too. That said, he still tried to keep his distance, and would shirk from the touch of curious kittoms who knew no fear, though less out of fear of it hurting himself and more out of concern it would end up injuring the kittom. Parents who noticed too late either pulled their child away apologetically while scolding them as they scurried away, or shot dirty looks at him as if he were the one that instigated it.

He sighed, not quite missing those fearful or scornful gazes.
Right. Back to the task at hand.

The sounds of soft splashing echoed through the swamp each time he lifted his paw and plunged it back down into the marsh he was traversing through. He looked up and around, scanning the trees and vines, watching for anything odd marking the tree trunks while maneuvering through overgrown roots that penetrated into the water. An odd crow here or there would look down at him, his appearance reflecting in their beady eyes before they let out a harrowing caw and took off into the air. He couldn’t help but feel that he himself wasn't too different from the crows. 

They were often seen as harbingers of doom, where the overly superstitious would say that witnessing a murder of crows was always a sign of ill omen to come. Those who listened to these words were often quite cruel, throwing sticks and stones to any that may be within reach, with some even going so far as to try and trap them. On the occasions he saw anyone doing this, he would step in, baring his fangs. A low growl and flared wings was often enough to spook the assailants as they quickly dropped the bird and scampered away. While he himself did not remember each and every bird he helped, he had heard that crows often had great memories, whether this be for holding a grudge, or for remembering their benefactors.

He was loath to mention it, but he did find some small satisfaction from the crows taking revenge, pecking angrily at those that tried to harm them. Of course, if it got dangerous, he himself would step in, not wanting either parties to resort to cruel violence, and it seemed the crows had picked up on this too, lest they earn his ire. The ones he helped would bring him trinkets or keep him company, flying along with him as they soared through the skies.

Soar…

Chester blinked. Why didn’t he think of this earlier?
Here he was scanning the area for any signs of miasma, but would it not be quicker and more efficient to look from the skies?

Flapping his wings, he slowly lifted himself off the ground, watching the water ripple below him with each flap. He then rose above the treetops, and it was then he saw it.

A strange oil-like sheen hung in the sky. It almost made him think of the northern lights one would often see in the skies of Strynhalde or Silveil, but to see it here in Enmir…

If it weren’t for its foreboding nature, Chester would maybe almost see it as pretty, but a visible overwild border meant that the miasma was getting dangerous. Something would have to be done.