<em>"Sometimes truth is strange, Fayne. I probably never would have thought I'd become like I am today. I was so short-sighted, so angry back then..."<br/><br/>He sighs, though he wears something of a smile.<br/><br/>"I hope I've taught you to avoid the mistakes I made. I paid dearly for them. Change is part of nature... but the nature of change is pain. It isn't easy to let go of what has come before. That is why many call shapeshifting the highest of the druidic magics."<br/><br/>Leorn pauses for a long moment, staring up into the sky, the stars beginning to wink into view as the fingertips of sunset still strive valiantly to cling to the sky. Without looking down, his free hand wanders to the hilt of his own scimitar, the one he bore during the war, famous among even the greatest of heirophants for the monsters it has slain in his hands. Then, he looks down at her, and his hand slips to where the sheath is buckled to his belt, and deftly undoes it. The elder druid plants his staff in the ground as he brings round the blade, holding it by its scabbard, and, both hands beneath it, offers it to his daughter, still smiling softly.<br/><br/>"May it serve you well."</em>