Rebuilding (open)

[Kalthandrix]

Vykor wandered into the area where his cabin had been only to find that the trees and brush had had their way with the structure. A large tree limb had demolished the thatched roof and collapsed one wall almost completely. Weeds choked the path that had once led to his door so that one could hardly tell there had ever been one.

 

“Oh well,” he murmured. It was not as if he thought that it would still be habitable after all this time, but he had hoped.

 

As he come closer, he felt a small flicker of recognition and caught sight of a weave of the power, hair thin and laying close to the ground. By the Light, he had completely forgotten about this and was amazed to see that his alarm ward, woven, tied off, and inverted two years ago – still held. He was also sad that it had. It meant that none had ever bothered to return here on the off chance he had returned.

 

With a now practiced ease, Vykor attained the Void and reached out to take a hold of the quivering lightning and bone-cracking cold that was the male half of the One Power. Life filled the entirety of his being and ever sense and sensation was heightened as if new. It was then just a simple matter of unknotting the alarm ward and allowing those flows to harmlessly dissipate.

 

He briefly thought of going into the ruined hovel, but decided that there was nothing that could have survived in that house unsullied for this time that he could think of needed. He would make a fresh start here on this same ground, if such a thing was possible.

 

Thin flows of earth and fire quickly wove under his direction, multiple tendrils of the same weave, and with a thought he sent them snaking toward the half fallen tree and it’s health neighbors that hemmed in the derelict dwelling. As each weave sank into the base of each tree he smiled and wove a shield of air in front of himself before allowing the flows to fall into their final configuration.

 

All around the broken house, trees erupted as the One Power shattered the base of each tree trunk. It was a torrent of destruction that even Isha, his old mentor, would have been proud of. Fragments of the sundered trees, some small and others not so small, pelted his shield, but he paid the jagged shards of wood no more mind then he would had they been raindrops.

 

It felt good to be in a place where he could wield the Power again without worry that some Red Sister would find out and decide to try and gentle him, or to see the looks of horror that some had when gazing upon a man that could channel or what they did with saidin when they did.