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    Summary

    "Even dead trees make noise when they burn. And living ones whisper with the wind in their leaves. What sounds do those that live amongst them make? What words shall you tell the skies?"

    Misadahl loved living. He sung with all the air in his lungs and power in his soul, fought with all the strength in his body, and spoke with all the conviction he held in his mind. Magic sung with him and the stories of old and new fell from his lips like honey. He was the first of Clan Lavellan, a shining boy who'd lead his people to greatness. Thats why the hahrens of many of the clans that roamed the Free Marches decided he would be the one to go to the conclave. They were right in every way and in ways they never could have seen. This is the tale of the Herald of Andraste, the Blessed of Mythal's Children.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    2,879
    Chapters:
    1/?
    Kudos:
    2
    Hits:
    12