The used their silk-weaving skills to create massive funnel-nets, stretching them across the highest peaks to catch the morning mist—moisture too thin for a single person, but massive when gathered together.

One summer, the Great Drought hit. For months, not a single drop of rain fell.

The village of Oakhaven was built around a tree so large its roots served as the town’s foundation and its canopy as the sky. For generations, the village was split into three distinct guilds: the , who lived in the dark soil and managed the water; the Trunk-Keepers , who carved homes into the bark and built the structures; and the Leaf-Watchers , who lived in the heights, harvesting sunlight and rain.

The used their knowledge of the earth to dig deep, redirected a distant, forgotten underground spring back toward the tree’s base.

The were the first to suffer. Without rain, their high gardens withered. They cried out for water, but the Root-Tenders, bitter from years of being ignored, hoarded the deep-well reserves for themselves. "You have the sun," the Root-Tenders shouted up. "Drink that."

Finally, the Great Tree itself began to lean. Its leaves turned gray, failing to provide shade to the roots below. The ground cracked, and the Root-Tenders found themselves baking in the very earth that used to protect them.

"The tree is dying because we have become separate branches," she shouted. "The roots cannot drink if the leaves do not shade the ground. The leaves cannot grow if the roots do not send up water. And none of us have a home if the trunk collapses." Desperation finally broke the pride of the guilds.

It was Elara, a young Trunk-Keeper, who stood in the central plaza where the three levels met.