The Temple of Silvanus

Augustine wanders as far as the wind urges her to go, west and south, into the forest they call Feythorn. It is full of pines and evergreens and she doubts her course many times but the wind doesn’t stop tugging at her cloak until she comes upon the clearing - and then it drops suddenly.

A single oak tree stands solitary and sleeping in the middle of a large, almost perfect circle, some 100 feet across. The ground around it is covered in thick, damp moss, deep green and untouched.

Walking along the perimeter of the circle she plants the acorns that dropped to her feet in the Angelbark, one by one, in equal distance from each other.

She lies down to sleep at the roots of the Oak, and lets herself hope.

---

She spends her days walking back and forth from the Oak into Daring Heights, learning a new city for what must be the hundredth time. She takes a few odd jobs, and tries to be patient. She can feel her power growing and now all she needs is a sign - proof that she’s in the right place, doing the right thing. She questions it often.

One evening she lies down by the Oak as usual, one hand on the bark and the other sinking in to the moss, and sighs.

"Are you tired, Augustine? Why don't you rest? Your Brothers and Sisters are up here already."

The face carved into the trunk of the leafless oak speaks with a soothing, calm voice.
She looks up to discover an extended structure of intertwined branches and tree-platforms, fully grown oaks twining together with the shrubs at their feet to become walls. She sees lanterns and lights hanging from the branches. She hears laughter, the sound of prayer. She sees shadowed figures in the boughs of the Oak - druids, clerics, followers of Silvanus found and congregated.

Augustine wakes up at the feet of the Oak and brushes the fresh snow off her hood. She leans her forehead against the trunk, places her hands on its thick roots and smiles.

“Thank you.”

---

It takes her close to two months and every ounce of power that Silvanus has seen fit to bestow upon her. She walks the perimeter for hours on end, every day, speaking to the acorns sleeping in the ground. She watches over the saplings as they crack through the frozen earth, convinces the young trees to bend and hold each other, to weave and braid their branches together.

She commands the brush to thicken, to fill the gaps that the trees cannot. She builds walls and ladders, she climbs the ever-sturdier branches and begs them to form a roof, a shelter for those who would seek the Forest Father and worship here with her. She draws a circle around the crown of the center Oak with the younger branches, so that He will not be without sunlight.

She pours everything she has into the waiting soil at her feet and she is not disappointed.

---

It’s been three weeks since the vision. The young oaks have pushed through the hard earth and are slowly stretching their thin branches towards the pale winter sky.

“This is lovely.” A quiet, soft, smoky voice breaks the still quietness of the morning from somewhere above Augustine. “Did you do all this?”

With a look of mild surprise on her face, Augustine looks up to see a figure perched in the upper branches of the main Oak. A young female tiefling with light-purple skin and long white-blonde hair sits with her feet swinging in the empty air. She is glancing around the clearing with a look of deep reverence and unvarnished joy at the sight of so much flourishing forest life growing strong and true towards the crisp wintry sky.

“Why, hello there.” Augustine smiles at the newcomer. “Welcome, child. And thank you, I did do it myself, and I must say, I’m quite proud of how it’s all coming along.”

“Hold on,” the tiefling replies. “I’ll come down.” She rests a hand gently against the trunk of the tree and whispers something to it, stepping into the large hole in the bark that blossoms under her touch. A second, matching void starts to form, growing up from where the base of the tree meets the loamy earth. The diminutive figure emerges from the trunk, the wood slowly and seamlessly sealing up behind her.

This close, Augustine can see her blonde locks are tinged with prominent streaks of forest green; the tresses entangled and moss-like as they near the ends. Two ramshorns protrude from her mass of hair, curving backwards over her skull. They are light purple, like her skin, but laced with shades of bark-brown and covered in tiny buds and bumps. Golden-green irises stand out arrestingly against the bone-white of her eyeballs. She is unshod, wearing a basic tunic and leggings the light blue of a crystal-clear spring morning.

As she crosses the space between them, Augustine can feel ripples of power emanating from the woman like the bow wave of a ship, and her senses are filled with the scent of a summer breeze and the heat of dappled sunlight breaking through thick canopy to warm the forest floor. As she walks, the flora in the immediate vicinity seems to physically sway and bend towards the tiefling.

“Hullo.” She says, pleasantly, looking up at Augustine. “I’m Sunday.”

Augustine looks her over, taking in her appearance and her effect on the flora around them, and gives her a knowing look, followed by a small, contented sigh.

“Sunday. Again, welcome. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Madame Augustine LaMontagne Beaufort, and this-” she spreads her arms wide and looks around the clearing with eyes full to the brim with intent and determination, “-is the beginnings of my temple. You’re very welcome to stay for a while if it is, as you say, to your liking. Or have you come for some kind of assistance?”

She reaches out a careful hand - an outline of a snaking vine crawling up her wrist where it emerges from her robes - and gently catches Sunday under the chin much like a grandmother would. She holds her for but a moment before letting go, smiling almost proudly.

“Not that I think there’s much I can do that you can’t, child.”

“Just dropped in to say ‘hello’, really. I’m living a few miles that way.” Sunday waves in a general westerly direction. “Near a big willow. You can’t miss it. I felt this place growing the last couple of weeks, so just wanted to give you time to settle in before introducing myself. And, please, do call me ‘Sunday’. I haven’t been a child in a while.”

Augustine’s face falls a little.

“No, I can see that. Forgive me, when you begin to reach my age most everyone around you seems young. So you care for this forest as well, I take it? That’s good. I have a feeling something evil lingered here in the past.”

“Nothing to forgive. But yer, it wasn’t great around here for a while, to be honest. Hags and shit. You know how it goes. We managed to uproot the queen, but she’d dug in deep. We’re still trying to repair the damage.”

“Hags and shit, indeed. Well, hopefully I can be of some help in this endeavour.” She reaches out and pats the bark of the Oak with an absentminded hand. “Perhaps that is why He sent me. Will you let me know if there’s anything I can do? If there is any new danger? And I’ll do the same for you?”

Sunday smiles warmly at her. “Thank you! I’ll take all the help I can get.” She spreads her arms to encompass the clearing. “And you seem very well-suited to it!”

Augustine gives her a smile that’s aiming for modest but missing by a mile, the pride and delight she takes in the compliment shining through clearly to Sunday’s discerning eyes.

“That’s very kind of you to say. I hope to prove worthy of the task.”

---

---

Shortly after the younger branches have grown up and formed a protective roof around the great Oak in the centre, a pale blue firbolg emerges from the forest, a magpie sitting contentedly on her bare shoulder. She seems a little inappropriately dressed for the weather in only a sleeveless high collared jacket and trousers. In one arm she is cradling a large bundle of various freshly picked wild flowers, their roots still clumped with dirt.

Unsure of how to approach, she steps through the gap in the trees on the perimeter and then just stops. Looking up she has to sweep the mess of very long silver hair out her eyes, the single loose braid barely holding.

She takes in the beauty of the scene, the temple, in front of her. The deep greens of the leaves that surround it, the dappled sunlight filtering through, the calm stillness. As she wiggles her bare feet in the lush moss beneath her, BB can’t help but smile, her happiness even showing in her tired green eyes.

“I think this is definitely the place Blue. In a way it reminds me of home.”

Blue chirps at this and then floats down to the ground, hopping along and having a further look around. BB speaks a little louder now, slowly walking in the general direction of the big oak tree at the centre.

“Uhh. Hello? Madame Augustine? Pi?”

As she rounds the massive Oak she sees a woman in long, dark green robes looking up at the tree with a smile. She looks to be in her late twenties, with long umber hair spilling down her back. One side of her head has been shaved clean to reveal a tattoo of a vine climbing up her neck, inching onto the side of her face. Her lips are painted a deep crimson and around her neck hangs an oak leaf encased in clear glass.

She raises one arm and points at something high up in the branches.

“Perhaps just a little to left, if you could? That branch doesn’t look too sturdy, maybe we should- Oh! Hello there.”

She smiles warmly at BB.

“Pieni, we have a guest! Is this the BB you’ve told me about? Come down!”

At Augustine’s smile BB walks over, careful not to drop the flowers in her arms, and looks up to where Augustine was pointing to give a big wave to Pieni. Looking back to Augustine she returns the smile.

“Heya, yeah I’m BB. Nice to meet you! This is a lovely temple you have here.” She now takes the bundle of flowers she has with both hands and holds them out to Augustine. “I brought these for your temple, and for Silvanus in a way. I thought they could be a nice addition or something.”

Pieni, the birdfolk, tumbles down from the canopy, but slow as a feather, green poncho billowing as he lands on his feet. His wings are cloud-white, blunt beak sun-yellow, and he is surrounded by creatures -- a badger on his right shoulder, an owl on his left, and butterflies, hummingbirds and bees clinging to his sky-blue feathers. "These guys like them!" he says, as the bees bumble towards the blooms, other critters soon following suit.

BB smiles even wider at this “I knew they were missing something. Now it’s the ultimate wildflower bundle.”

Augustine looks up at BB, now having to crane her neck somewhat as they stand side by side.

“They’re beautiful, BB. Thank you very much. They’ll make a beautiful addition to the temple. It’s coming along nicely, don’t you think?” She sweeps her gaze around, a proud expression on her face.

The Oak in the center of the temple has been decorated with numerous glass lanterns swaying gently in the mild breeze. Two braziers have been lit for warmth, one by the single opening in the leaf-covered walls and one next to the one Oak. By the back wall, opposite the entrance, the wall has been extended into a small curved chamber, a shelter of sorts.

The walls - made up of the younger oaks and the growing vines and shrubs between them - are thickening by the day, and the canopy above is almost entirely solid and unbroken, except in the middle where it parts in a perfect circle.

“We should plant these,” Augustine says, nodding to the flowers. “Spring is on the way. The earth will take good care of them.”

“Spring and yourself surely will be very good for them. This place is wonderful, truly.”

Reaching behind herself to grab at something hanging off her rucksack, BB draws her arm forward, now brandishing a small garden trowel “Show me where you want them and I’ll happily get started.”

While Pieni, tired but dedicated to his work, flies up to continue hanging lanterns, BB and Augustine plant the flowers. They spread them out by the entrance to the temple, spilling out along the walls into the forest outside like a promise of what lies inside. On their knees, hands deep in the cold earth, Augustine turns to BB.

“Are you one of the druid folk, like Pieni? Is that how you know each other?”

BB chuckles slightly at the question “No, no, but I can see why you would think that. Indeed my mother and brother were druids. I learnt a lot about flowers and nature from them. But Pi and I met when I first came to Kantas and started adventuring, we’ve gotten through a lot together since then.”

She leans back on her knees, brushing the clumps of dirt off her scarred hands as she admires their handiwork “Actually that reminds me, I have a prayer to offer to Silvanus at this Oak. Then sadly I must get going, I still have my own flower field to attend to.”

She gets up and stands to her full height, the lantern light softly illuminating the crown of her head, and smiles down at Augustine, sat amongst the flowers. “Of course you are always welcome, like how you welcomed me here.”

At the mention of prayer Augustine stood up as well, leading BB over to the center of the temple. “Of course, child. Here,” she reaches up and unhooks one of the unlit lanterns from its chain, and holds it out to the firbolg, “this one will be yours.”

She reaches for BB’s hands and cups them around the glass jar, pressing her own gently around them. “Say your prayer, child. I will keep it safe here for you.”

BB closes her eyes. Augustine watches her lips move silently for a moment before letting go over her hands. When BB opens her eyes, a soft glow is emanating from the lantern, much like the rest of the the ones hanging from the Oak branches. BB reaches up without effort and hangs her lantern back up again.

“Please,” Augustine says with a earnest smile, “come back soon.”

---

Write up in collaboration with Pieni Sunday and BB. Art by me.