The night was a cloak of silence over the Seed Carriers' camp, but for Elara, sleep was a distant dream. She lay awake, staring at the canvas of stars above, listening to the whispers of the wind. It was said that the wind carried voices from the past, tales of the Blight that had once turned verdant forests into graveyards of stumps and dust.

Elara rose, her feet finding the rhythm of the earth as she walked beyond the circle of firelight. The elders spoke of the Blight in hushed tones, a monstrous entity born from humanity's neglect. It was a force that had consumed the greenery, leaving behind a world gasping for breath.

As she ventured into the darkness, the whispers grew louder. They were not just legends; they were warnings, reminders of a time when the world was full of life, and how swiftly it could be stripped away. The Seed Carriers believed the Blight was still out there, lurking, waiting for the seeds to show signs of life, to devour them once more.

Elara found herself drawn to an ancient tree, its branches barren, reaching out to the sky like desperate hands. She placed her palm against the rough bark, feeling the pulse of a story untold. The tree was a Whisperer, one of the few that remained, a living memory of the world before the Blight.

The tribe had many names for these trees – the Sentinels, the Keepers, the Silent Ones. They were revered and feared, for to hear their whispers was to remember the cost of the past. Elara closed her eyes, letting the whispers wash over her, a symphony of sorrow and hope.

It was then that she noticed something peculiar at the base of the tree. Hidden beneath a layer of dust and debris was a small, metallic object. It was unlike anything she had seen before, smooth and cold to the touch. She brushed away the dirt, revealing a symbol etched into the metal – a leaf encircled by a drop of water.

Elara's heart raced as she clutched the object. Could this be a sign? A message from the Whisperers? She knew she had to keep it safe, to study it, to understand its meaning. For now, she tucked it away, a secret kept between her and the night.

As dawn approached, Elara returned to the camp, the whispers fading with the stars. She carried with her the weight of the Whisperers' tales, and a newfound resolve. The Blight may have taken much from the world, but it had not taken everything. Not yet.