Spellweavers are rare even by the standards of other Aelves. To wield such potent life magic takes hundreds of years of training and dedication, most may go their whole lives only managing the faintest hint of any arcane abilities. Not so with the Spellweavers. These Aelves are naturally gifted, and many whisper that they are blessed by the Great Tree itself. Wherever their power comes from; none can deny its miraculous effects.
Most notable amongst the Spellweavers is Mara, she is young for one of their order, displaying as much natural talent as even the oldest among Avelorn’s mages. Her gentle hands can soothe and mend any injury, whilst powerful concealing magics mask movements from enemy scouts and invading armies. Trained under the Nomad Prince known as Feinour, she was originally chosen to help with the Aelf’s nightmares and feelings of guilt over lost kin, but over time became something of an advisor to him, and even a friend. Under his teachings, her powers have honed and focused such that she almost surpasses the greatest Spellweavers of the age. Her close friendship with Feinour has also not gone unnoticed among the other Aelves, whispers tangle like the breeze, and rumors carry on the wind that the two may even be lovers. But if this is the truth or not, Mara does not say, only giving a distant smile and a faraway gaze.
Perhaps the most striking trait of Mara is her rudimentary soothsaying abilities, as she is well versed in lore and prophecy. Emerald eyes glow in portent as she mumbles to herself whilst flicking through numerous books and tomes. As it was Mara who foresaw the great Neroquake of Nagash, and it was Mara who predicted the dire warnings of Alith’Anar’s as the Phoenix blazed his shimmering trails in the sky. Yet such visions into what may come to pass are fraught with peril, for the truth is not always as it seems, many images have different meanings, and even with her burgeoning powers the Spellweaver cannot predict everything…
On the battlefield, Mara is truly a force to be reckoned with. Working in concert with Feinour, vast walls of vines crash out of the ground to protect her fellow Aelves, healing buds sowing forth to mend Sylvaneth wounds and reknit oaken skin. Her runic staff is a blue of motion, each incantation strengthening all those who hear them as swirling ethereal light causes flowers to bloom wildly and trees to regrow in abundance.
But it is when roused to wrath does she becomes truly terrifying. Spells meant to nurture and heal now turn to sickening purpose, twisting roots ripping heads from necks and limbs from sockets in shocking displays of fury. These moments of anger rarely last long, and are immensely draining for the normally peaceful mage, yet such a show of force is rightly terrifying to both friend and foe alike. To see the power of nature in its most elementally destructive form, it is a sight few foes live to see, and those that do forever fear it.
You can read more about Mara in the short story, “The Calm Before the Storm”:
