Elyod — Entry Two: The Night the Trees Sang

It happened one night when the stars had gone missing.

A storm had passed earlier—quick, fierce, and strange. It left no rain, only wind that howled like sorrow through the pines. I had taken shelter beneath the outstretched arms of an old cedar, its bark dark with memory. I remember thinking the forest felt… different that night. Not dangerous. Not safe. Just… awake.

And then the silence began to shift.

It wasn’t noise. Not at first. More like a feeling, a pulling in my chest. The way a harp string might tremble when another is plucked nearby. I stood slowly, every hair along my arms rising, and stepped out from the sheltering tree.

The forest was still, but not empty.

The trees—tall oaks, thin birches, ancient beeches—were swaying though there was no wind. Their leaves shimmered faintly, not with dew or moonlight, but with something older. Something holy.

Then I heard it. Soft. Layered. Soundless, yet full.

A song.

Not sung in words, but in the language of being—
roots touching roots, branches brushing sky, creation remembering its Maker.

The trees were singing.

I cannot tell you how long I stood there, heart wide open, tears on my face before I knew I was crying. I only know this:

That night, I heard the voice of God carried through wood and leaf.
And it wasn’t thunder, or trumpet, or roar.

It was a hymn of presence.
A song of the One who walks unseen and waits to be noticed.
The melody of a love that goes deeper than roots and higher than light.

---

I have never forgotten it.
Sometimes I hear echoes when the wind is right…
Or when I lay my hand on a fallen log and feel the pulse of life still lingering.

It changed me. Not in ways the world can see.
But in the hidden rings of my soul—like the rings in trees, added silently through seasons of growth.

I no longer need proof.
The trees sang.
And I was there.

— The soul is mine — the hands are digital.

Hearthfire Codex

Elyod — The Humble Servant

The Hearthfire Codex

Thalanor

🔥 Welcome to the Hearthfire Codex

A Gentle Introduction

There is a quiet place where stories wait—not loud or boastful, but weathered and wise. A place where snow falls softly on high ridges, where owls speak in silence, and where wanderers with kind hearts pass unseen through ancient forests.

When the Heart Holds the Brush

A Story of Light

There are those among us who see the world with breathtaking depth—who hear poetry in a mourning dove’s call or feel sacredness in the slant of morning light. Their minds brim with visions, colors, words, and songs. But for some, the hand cannot follow where the heart longs to lead.

The Teacup Sermon

A Whimsical Reflection on Grace

I sat down this morning with a well-worn mug—one of those that doesn’t quite match anything else in the cupboard. The handle is chipped. The glaze is crackled. It whistles slightly when you pour something hot inside, as though it’s whispering a secret.

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Creations Parable: The Council of Trees

There once was a grove of trees who lived in the rhythm of sun and soil. They were tall and rooted, weather-worn and wise, and they bore fruit—but not every year.