Samlock, a Becquerel Storyweaver from Echalon, weaves a story several decades after the defeat of the Numina:

So, many of the Becquerel had withdrawn within the Seraphol, there to live their lives again in isolation. Even now, coming back from my visit to Djemity, I have not met a single Becquerel of the Seraphol among the other races. I had searched within Trask, and there found no Becquerel. Across the Mosel Desert I journeyed a year and a month, and yet no Becquerel were known to the Kirlsa there, save stories from back then. When I came among the Aquienos, there were a few memories, of some Becquerel that had traveled among the Starfall, but none had seen one in many years.

When I at last came upon the Seraphol itself, the life of the Becquerel became once again apparent. I went from tree-top to tree-top, hearing many stories told again and again of exploits within the forest; of fabulous beasts I will recall another time; of good works and good heroes I will sing of later; of a life safe but exciting.

Our kin have chosen a way, and we have chosen our own on Balas, and I rejoice in the multitude of tales of I have gathered from our ancient home…

A Kirlsa mother and father converse about children's upbringing.

“And have I told you? My daughter has expressed an interest in the Seraphol of all place.”

“That damned forest? I remember when I had gone there to hunt beasts within the Geseque. I dare not venture within now alone, especially not into what they called the West Wood. Eight cycles ago was my last, and I was badly mauled by some kind of horned beast.”

“My brother went and never came back. Of course, he was an idiot, but he knew a thing or two about challenging a creature.”

“Hah! So I'd give you daughter one piece of advice - she can go there and probably die, or she can spend the next decade becoming the greatest hunter of the Kirlsa and then maybe give it a try.”

“She claims she can already wrestle a Mekhar goat one-handed.”

“Ah, to be young again. You know, I can beat one with just my head.”

“Oh really? Well…”

The old Druid Amarocq speaks before the greatest gather in the Hwal Clearing since the Withdrawl, nearly half a century after the defeat of the Numina.

I come with gravest news of my investigation. Many of you, Lonaca, Smaquen, Oromel, I see you all there, have already discovered much and have lent me a helpful hand. Yet, despite the sacrifice every year, the Heart of the Forest is failing. Woden's Throne of Gold cannot so easily sustain him with a but a sacrifice each year.

Though there are many still that gather much Skira around them in their life, we no longer live in the time of great Heroes, who would challenge so great a threat as the Enemy.

Still, many are willing to volunteer and the best I have known, the most potent vessels are those succeed time and again at the great Games of all Djemity.

Many more must compete, many more must train. So that they grow in stature and strength and wisdom and Skira. So that the winners, the very best, may grown strong. So, when they might volunteer, we may with a handful yet sustain the Seraphol. I call that this year five of the volunteers must be chosen, but I forsee that this number shall only grow…

The Arkhivian Archivist Badru speak to his children of the Seraphol

Yes, yes, little ones. I did indeed live within the Seraphol for many years. For when the Becquerel withdrew, so the Arkhivian villages that my father helped build continued to live among them. Now you hear many stories of the scary forest. Now you hear all the tales about touching a tree and dropping dead. But the Becquerel live happily on. I left some years ago to raise you here among a greater number of Arkhivians in our old old home, but I will return to my Becquerel friends. To Morac, who ranges the whole forest and helps traveling Becquerel, and Ponarel who is now a wise Druid and meets the few that enter the Seraphol and speaks to them of survival within.

For if you do not harm the Seraphol, and you are quick and nimble, and mindful of your surroundings, and see the beasts that come for you, then you are safe. But if you wish harm to the Forest, whether you would burn it or cut it, then the Forest will strike back with the might of Woden. It shall strike you dead. But only if you are bad. So don't be, little ones. Or at least learn the tricks. I'll teach you tricks when you're older…