I am Oshabi, a child of the Azmeri. I was born on Wraeclast, I have lived my whole life on Wraeclast, and I will die on Wraeclast. And when that day comes, with its blessing, I hope I will stay dead.
We Azmeri are few, but when the land's whispers grew silent, my brothers and sisters turned their backs on me. In that, Exile, we have something in common.
I do not recall seeing the seeds in my childhood. They are new to me. New to Wraeclast. They are unlike any seed I've ever seen. They do not need the fruit or the flower. No, they are born of the land itself. Outpourings of this land's very lifeforce. A gift for us, if we can peer behind the veil.
It is beautiful, yes? I believe it to be older than the Eternal Empire. Older than the Vaal? I am not so sure. But it does not look like their work. I like to believe it is a work of my ancestral Azmeri. Carved from the land to serve the land, equal parts monument and penance.
I was once blessed with a deep connection to the land. It would speak to me, and nourish me. But that connection was severed. And in turn, my tribe severed their connection to me. I was alone. Lost. The land spoke no more... until I found this place.
The garden restored my connection. Strengthened it. I do not hear whispers, but singing.
I wish to honour this place by utilising it to its fullest. And I want you to join me in this.
It is the name I have given to the invisible force that breathes life back into the dead, that twists and shapes beast and bush. The soils of this sacred place release this energy from the seeds that grow here. The collectors and conduits allow us to collect it, and redirect it to more... useful endeavours.
I had not heard of Corruption or Malachai before. Azmeri do not speak of the Eternals if they can avoid it. It strikes me that Malachai's pursuits were not so different from our own. He simply handled them as only an iron-fisted Eternal could.
The Corruption's similarities to the Lifeforce do not escape me. But you slew the source of the Corruption, and yet the Lifeforce continues to dance through all life, as if this land has been deeply imbued with its essence.
Perhaps they are the same, perhaps they are different. Perhaps they are two sides of the same leaf. As long as the Lifeforce continues to radiate from all things in Wraeclast both living and dead, it does not matter. We will learn from Malachai's errors and adapt. That is what the Grove teaches us.
The rise and fall of the gods, the ebb and flow of Corruption... The Lifeforce... These things are all interconnected, roots woven beneath all of life. Be it divine, dark or natural energies, it seems those who seek to use such power to dominate others are destined to be humbled.
We should not seek to use this power to change those around us, no... This power is a means for us to change ourselves. To be reborn as Wraeclast intends us to be.
Even the simplest little worms struggle and fight to survive in the face of a threat. The Lifeforce is the desire for survival in its purest form, so of course its struggle is more... visceral. It does not want to be wielded by us, so it creates monsters with which to defend itself. And I have you to defend me. That, and your wonderful social presence.
The River Encampment
Those who drove me from my home have been driven from theirs. Sometimes nature is cruel, and sometimes nature is fair. I think this is an example of both.
I suppose Yeena still claims to be the chosen oracle for this "Spirit." Let us refuse to speak of them, the way they refuse to speak of me - and any others they have banished. That is how they remain pure, you see. It is no miracle. They merely banish any who they deem tainted. I imagine they never told you that, did they?
They could not hear the whispers. The Azmeri were deaf to the land, but for me. They did not understand why I took the child, why I offered her to the earth. I felt the land demand a sacrifice. And when they stopped it, that is when the land withdrew. They did not believe that it was necessary. The child's blood would feed countless others with the blessing of fertility.
The Azmeri exiled me. My name to be spoken no more. And with that, I was alone. No tribe, no whispers.
But it was all to lead me to the Grove.
The Thief of Virtue aided you greatly, but I doubt his path ends here. From what you have told me, it appears he retains a true conscience. For that, his suffering will be the subject of legends, and he will walk with pain in his attempts to help humanity. Futile attempts, of that I am certain.
A divine man is still a man. Those who envision themselves as golden gods soaring above mankind can never return to the humility of a pauper. He will go to the south, and he will serve his penance, but I do not doubt he will return newly absolved by his own heart. He will seek to 'help' those he considers inferior. We both understand that no good end comes of this.
Using the Lifeforce
The Lifeforce is at its most malleable as soon as it is released. Take the time to use it as best you can. Though it is not without its uses when we store it, it is far harder to wield for the transformative purposes we seek.