The Warden, clad in hush’d resolve and tempered flame, walketh not for glory, but for oath long kept; his soul a forge where silence becometh strength, and duty knoweth no dusk. None mark his name in song, yet where he passeth, ruin halteth, for even shadows heed the shape of his vow.

• THE ROOTWARD YEARS: OF ORIGINS AND STILLNESS

• THE SHAPING GROUND: OF ROADS AND ROOTS

• THE QUIET TEMPEST: OF LIGHT BEFORE DUSK