If a mage’s wand is broken, or when the mage passes on, it is seen as good practice to return the remains of the wand to Nature. Burying it near where it was gifted is often the common route and it can, many years later, lead to an interesting thing.

The earth around it becomes… magical. It thinks. It moves. It speaks.

Clodd has wandered these hills for a few years now, stepping slowly as if through water. Mostly it keeps to itself, but sometimes it will chatter with locals. Its voice is so faint that the slightest breeze might steal it away, and its words echo deeply like stones shifting in an unending cave. Children like to decorate it with flowers and spare clothes, and it makes no attempt to stop them. A gentle thing, Clodd seems to be, for sure.

Who it is, though, and what it does, I’m not sure we’ll ever know.