He wanted to stop and take it all in, but the magic carried him on its wings, making him soar over the foam and waves, reaching across the broad expanse of it. There were ships heading south, braving the tides and crosswinds. Looking ahead, he saw the continent rushing towards him. A tangle of jungle and mountains with snow-capped peaks met him first. The distant coast of the Shoreland. Thealos had never been there, for the Shae did not control that far south. Over the windy peaks he traveled, slipping through gorges that shouldered higher than the Kingshadow mountains. When he reached the top, he swore with amazement.
Hunkered down beyond the mountains was a valley so vast it could have swallowed Dos-Aralon and Avisahn together. Emerald fields flanked by towering redwood and alder stretched out for miles filled with pastures feeding thousands of ox, horse, and sheep. Mines rich with veins of iron, gold, and silver exploded with wealth and promise. He could not see the end of the valley, so distant and vast. There had to be a million humans living there in the homelands and farmlands stretching along the nape of the mountains all the way to the sea. It was a vast and rich country. Cities dotted the land, hundreds of them. Towers yearning to touch the sky wrestled with domed assemblies, all glimmering with gold paving. The magic eased him down slowly, gently, through a pink rainsquall at sunset – closer to the earth, closer to the rich dark soil that drank in the rain from the skies. And there, feeding the land with its magic, Thealos saw the Everoot. Flecks of blue and violet danced in fields acres wide. The Earth magic sang with glory.
Darkness fell across his vision and when the sun rose, the smell of smoke and char stung his nose. The magic hoisted him again, zooming across the sky. He twisted around, seeing the veil of smoke and haze lingering over the dark valley. Homesteads were ruined and abandoned. Fires burned constantly from shattered palaces and desolate parks. He saw two armies marching in the valley, marching from destruction to destruction. Their minions spread death and havoc. Thealos saw the struggle, looping low so that he could see their faces. Faces full of hate and fury with drops of juice trickling down their chins. It was Everoot again. The two armies clashed fiercely, leaving fields of blood and the dead. But the dead rose and continued to fight, death begetting life over and over. Endlessly. The hot fires burned and ravaged the earth, but men would not die. They fought over the Everoot, to dig out the last remnants of it. To control it all.
Thealos watched with disgust as the scene changed, growing darker and darker. He did not understand the magic of the vision and how it worked, but he did understand the mood of the land and was not just seeing the inhabitants with his eyes. The Earth magic whispered its secrets to him. The dead were in piles now, in furrows that stretched like grain rows. He watched arrows hailing down from the skies, dropping men to agonizing ends as the Deathbane-coated tips robbed their lives. The armies were more cautious now, the warriors dwindling fewer and fewer in number. The entire land was desolate, save a few cloistered cities that barred either side from entering. Thealos watched in horror as the armies struck again, hammering at each other viciously, dwindling fewer and fewer.
Then the wind started to blow.
Thealos felt the eddies of magic shift with the jerking motion of the winds. It was blowing eastwards, towards the sea. He watched in moments as the fields turned brown, and the earth became pockmarked and cracked. The armies continued to fight for control of the Everoot, but then men were dying of thirst. There was no water, nothing to feed the plant, to keep it alive and whole. He listened to the screams of the dying and shuddered in his soul from the total destruction. It collapsed, crumbling like a castle made of blasted sand. The magic pulled him away, dragging him from the terrible scene. He wanted to weep again at the destruction of so many. Dust blew over the land, clouds of thick black dust and ash. It choked the life out of everything.