I've lived a very long time, so my name is like a story

For once in his life, Raistlyn was unsure of his Path and where it intended to take him.  The time was more difficult to determine here than in Helovia, where the sun and stars maintained a regular rhythm, as sure as a strong heartbeat.  The stars rotated beautifully, there.  Here in the Rift, there seemed to be only an oppressive blackness and an endless night without stars.  It would take him a while to adjust once more. Blinking in the dim light, his feline pupils dilated and adjusted, allowing him to see near perfectly in the blackness.  He could hear something ahead.  He braced himself, drawing forth the shadows surrounding him to wrap and warp into black armor on his body.  If a monster had decided to ambush him, he would be ready.   Something crashed through the thick, tangled undergrowth of the old forest, snarling and yowling.  He whirled, bracing himself for an impact that never came.  Moments later, the creature’s cries faded and silence settled over the forest once more.  Something had spooked the Rift creature.   He did not release the shadows bound to his body, knowing the deeper he went into the forest, the more creatures would follow him, waiting for an easy dinner.  They would not find one in him. He approached cautiously, wondering what being had caused such a fierce beast to flee. There, in the hollow cradle of of a dark ravine, lay a magnificent sight. In all of his years as a ranger, he had never laid eyes up on a Living Tree before. He had heard their whispers and sighs in the forest, a haunting, soulful tune that lingered on the wind. He ventured closer, not wishing to disturb the ancient being, and yet, sensed something was wrong. Very, very wrong. The wrongness of the scene made his heart hurt. The legendary tree had been felled. But how? Was it witchcraft? Poison from the blackness that oozed from the Rift?  The Lignum Vitae lay very still, only the leaves shivering gently in the nighttime breeze. It seemed to beckon him closer still, its lilting voice a soft, mournful sigh.  It was dying, Raistlyn realized, but the tree already seemed to know. There was nothing Raistlyn could do, he was not a healer and did not possess nature powers, and he nearly said as much, but the Living Tree seemed to know that too. And still, the tree murmured to him, sadly, limbs creaking and groaning. “I’m here,” Raistlyn said, stepping closer. “I’ll stay.” And so he did, keeping a silent, unwavering vigil over the magnificent creature until the tree sighed one last breath, and a few silvery leaves floated away into the moonlight.