Guide to Arbais Pierrépine (Form 2: PV) artifact and mastery - Raid Shadow Legends

The heart tree had been corrupted. Evil had seeped into its bark and rotted its leaves. Worse still, the taint had spread to Arbaïs' body, whose wood was now impregnated with Siroth's darkness. Sick and repulsed, she first tried to communicate with the Tree-Heart, to warn him, to make him stop, but he showed no gratitude. In despair, she called the surrounding trees, but they too were contaminated.
Panicking, she tried to physically remove the corruption from the Tree-Heart, but found herself breaking and shattering parts of it, to no avail - the taint had seeped too deeply. As her agony intensified and she felt the contagion building inside her, Arbaïs realized there was only one way to preserve herself from the taint: physically separate herself from the tree she had once adored above all else.

With great difficulty, Arbaïs tore her roots from those of the Tree-Heart, weeping with pain and sorrow, her whole body trembling. In freeing herself, she tore off part of the oldest tree, leaving behind a part of herself.

Arbaïs staggered away in a haze of anguish and agony, his lament sending shivers through whole swathes of the forest.
Its survival remained uncertain, as the act of separation had almost come too late. Cut off from the nourishment of the heart tree, her bark was beginning to petrify. Only by connecting with the forest could she cling to life - she planted herself for a time in the Whispering Glade and embraced the sunlight, and her roots drank from the fresh, renewed waters of the Green Run Stream. Gradually, its vital force became constant and regular once more.

As she recovered, Arbaïs discovered the fragment of the Tree of the Heart that had been torn out by its roots. Rather than damaging it, she kept it, her listening nature telling her that although it would be damaged forever, the evil it had once carried had been left behind when she tore it out. The Rhythm still emanated from it, albeit disjointed, and recalled a happier past and a frightening present.
The whole of the Misty Woods was threatened by the corruption of the Heart Tree, and when the forces of the Sylvanists and their allies, the Dwarves of Skyiron and the Shadowkin rebels of Yakai, gathered for the last time to stop it once and for all, they were joined by a beautiful masked woman, with flesh as emerald as the forest canopy, wrapped in a moss cloth, and who spoke with a voice like the breath of the wind in the eaves. Arbaïs could change shape, and when she joined the sylvan elves forming the vanguard of the army, she took one with whom they could empathize more.

In the battles that followed, Arbaïs fought like no other. The sight of the Heart Tree, deformed beyond recognition after decades of further corruption, filled her with a fury she'd never known before. She led the assault against the corrupt Fae, the Demonspawn and the forces of the Mikage Autocracy who were using the tree as a locus,

plunging its roots into their bodies and draining them of life, its whip-like vines severing heads and limbs. She began to slaughter the enraged and defiled Fae who assailed her, tearing off their wings and stabbing them with their screaming features. She shed bitter tears of amber sap and reverted to her original tree form as she fought. Its stone bark was impervious to the blows of the beings it had once considered family, and which it uprooted to make its way to the Tree of Hearts itself. The struggle to purge its darkness was even more painful than the one she waged for Arbaïs, but in the end, Siroth's evil had been banished.

If the remains of the Heart Tree were no longer tainted by the Shadow God, the taint could not be reversed. Arbais would never again be able to settle peacefully among its roots, which were now gouged and charred, nor drink from a soil on which lay the rotting remains of countless fallen warriors.
of countless fallen warriors. Her soul felt as empty as the dead husks of the trees at the battle site. For a time, she wandered the forest, tracking the remnants of the forces of evil. Today, known as Arbais the Cormorant, she spends whole years planted on isolated sites along the border, always on the lookout for intruders.