Over the course of many months, the citizens of Glomdoring worked at a
feverish pace, tirelessly collecting shadows of crow from the forest's
floor to fetch black crow feathers for Rowena. They slaughtered hoards
of swamp creatures to bring to the Ebonglom Wyrdling to cause him to
spit up tumourous pustules Rowena needed from his belly. The final, and
most important of the ingredients was that of the glittering black roses
that bloomed from the floor of the forest, the petals ripped from their
stems and thrown into the strange brew. When the right quantities of the
ingredients Rowena scooped the petals from the cauldron and instructed
they be placed upon the roots of the shoot.

Many months of this continued, watching in awe and curiosity as the once
tiny shoot began to grow at a rapid pace, spreading its thorn covered
canes in all directions and eventually concealing much of the garden's
surface with vines of black roses and thorns. As the final petals were
placed upon the roots of the rosebush a bud of giant proportions emerged
from vines covering the statue of Viravain, stirring animatedly by
something pressed between the closed petals. Members of the Glomdoring
soon gathered at the large bud, pondering its meaning but coming to no
solid conclusion.

Another day passed with nothing more than jerks and small movements
within the rose as their only sign of what was to come until Crow
descended from his perch to the roots of the Master Ravenwood. It was at
this moment Rowena emerged from the shadows and announced, "It is time."
and Brennan agreed. Both set off from Nexus and slowly moved toward the
south, accompanied by a small entourage. Others had already gathered at
the temple, circling the rose as Rowena and Brennan soon arrived,
followed soon by Mighty Crow, the Swampghast and the titanic, coiling
body of the Ebonglom Wyrmling. All within the gardens grew silent, even
the murder of crows that stood perched within the tree branches all
around.

Movement in the gardens came to a sudden halt as the thick, protective
layer of petals upon the bud gradually peeled away from the glittering
petals that soon proceeded in the same manner, peeling away layer after
layer from the bud's centre until settling into full bloom and revealing
their interior. At the rose's very centre was a young child, asleep in a
small ball and covered in a mess of strikingly white hair. Little noise
echoed through the gardens as the small child stirred from Her slumber
and gazed fearfully at those gathered, letting out a startled cry that
echoed through the firmament, calling to Her Charune, The Horned One.
Curious about this new divine, Charune recognized Her for who She was,
Viravain. Know to him, but not in this new and curiously young form.

Viravain soon emerged from the rose, overcoming much of Her fear through
the gentle coaxing of Charune and the gathered members of Glomdoring, as
well as the motherly and affectionate attention of Rowena Nightshade.
She would eventually follow those gathered into the forest, learning
that it had been She that had once Mothered the dark forest and tended
to its growth, beauty and people. Now calling Herself the Child of the
Wyrd, Viravain began Her exploration of the forest and world, trying
desperately to find something, anything that could help Her find what it
is that She has lost, Herself and Her memories, remembering nothing
before the moment the rose opened and rebirthed Her into the First World.

Penned by My hand on the 20th of Estar, in the year 163 CE.