The old doe grazed calmly in the dark meadow, her long, slender neck stretched to the ground

as she tore up precious clumps of lichen from rotting logs and half-buried stones. She was heavy with
child, as were the three younger does with her, and every scrap of food they could find was vital to their
unborn fawns. When this meadow had been cleared of whatever other mosses and lichens there was to
be had, the does would move on.

Grass was scarce. It was cold in the forest, even with the magic that sustained it. Although the
trees survived, much of the ground vegetation was reduced to what could only grow in harsher
conditions. Grasses, flowering plants, grains – what little of these did grow was soon consumed by
herbivores like the does.

Occasionally the old doe would raise her head, alerted by some sound in the forest, her ears
flickering in all directions until she was satisfied there was no danger and resumed her grazing. The
other does seemed to take their cues from her and only went back to eating when she did. The forest
was otherwise silent.

Perched on a high branch in a tree at the edge of the meadow, Lorelei Isildaé smiled to herself.
Though the stars were partly obscured by the Eyes of Dghrghe, the two black orbs that hung like dark
sentinels over the land of Hkdnkf, there was enough light to see the does. And Lorelei’s people had long
ago adapted to seeing well in the dark. It was good to see so many pregnant deer, since it was so rare in
a world of perpetual night. With the death of the sun, many animals of the forest had died out long ago,
and those that remained grew fewer in number every cycle. Of the four deer in the clearing, perhaps
one fawn might survive its birth. And there was a chance that if it did survive, it would be born mutated.
If that were the case, then Lorelei’s people, the elves of Isthalania, would cull the unfortunate animal
from the herd.

Waiting until the deer had moved on from the meadow, Lorelei quietly climbed down from the
tree. Once on the ground, she left a sign that the forest elves were sure to find, indicating pregnant deer
had passed through here. The elves would then be able to track the does and monitor their progress.
When it came time for them to give birth, they would be moved to the Isthalania Wildlife Preserve
where the success of live births was somewhat higher than in the wild. Once the fawns were born and
were determined to be healthy, they were released back into the forest.

It was a losing struggle, however, and not only with the deer, but with all of Isthalania. The
forest nation once stretched all the way to the Brent Mountains in the west and to both the northern
and southern coasts of the Jnhjsdfhjk continent. Now it was a fraction of its former size. The Winter
Lands in the north and the Dead Lands of the west encroached upon the forest further and further,
diminishing it every cycle as more trees and animals died. The only thing that had kept the forest alive
as long as it had was the magic that flowed through it, ancient magic that breathed life into the forest,
which sustained and energized every living thing within it. But the magic was fading as well, and no
Isthala remained who could remember how to construct the magic. All they could do now was maintain
it as they did the forest.
 Hope was not entirely lost. What the elves now lacked in magic, they made up for with science.
With nowhere else to turn, feeling abandoned by the gods, the Isthala experimented heavily with
biology in order to try and prevent their inevitable destruction. Within three generations, The Isthala
had not only made tremendous advances in health and medicine, but had discovered the building blocks
of all life: DNA, which they called the Seed of Life. The elves, whose normally long life spans had been
drastically shortened by the loss of the sun, were once again living for hundreds of years. Infant
mortality was at an all time low