Shaken by the recent events, Pycena would dedicate much of her efforts towards minimizing the damage caused by the sudden spread of madness across much of Emeraldite lands. But this did not leave her bereft of duties back in her home of MyleHatsu. A good while ago, the second blightening of the forest had occured, sending much of the town's economy into chaos. In due time Pycena had devised a temporary solution to the lumber industry on her island: to replace the earthly species of trees that thrived there with ones native to the hells. Naturally, they had to be grown on special soils. But the fungal wood had a serious issue. It would not burn. It smoldered and kindled, enough to cook a simple meal but the fires it created were not hot, they did not warm the bodies of those living in the city and families living in the boreal island would have to wear several layers of additional cloth and fur. Soon, a disease outbreak affected both the elderly and the young. The future and the past of the settlement. To think her own devotion would lead to the suffering and death of her own kin had made Pycena question her faith dearly.
The wood from the old forest was not merely harvested. In an attempt to return nutrients to the soil and please her god (despite trees being regularly rotted, with both leaves and trunks returning to the soil, which was clearly visible by the layers upon layers of podzol on the soil, and an herbalist who had taken the care of the soil personally and was provided both tools, materials, and payment for her work.) Pycena had placed the wood and organics of the trees in mounds of soil. Rot piles. Soon enough mycelium had began to spread over them, but the organics inside were seemingly untouched by decay.
Seeing this, Pycena decided it was time to support the nature's workings with a bit of magic. She did not know the cause of why things did not decay on the holy island of the divine of decay, but seeing as this situation got ridiculous enough already she tried to lend a hand of her own. A simple incantation, cast over each and every rot pile, six in total, should suffice.
Her necrotizing staff in hand, she drew the rune of gifts: gifu, and began the work:
"Embrace of earth"
"Decay of leaves"
"Consume the will"
"And life of trees"
"The gift of earth"
"Was taken free"
"Now comes the time"
"Give back to thee"
"The gift of blight"
"Respected not"
"Now comes the time"
"Decay and rot"
"Twice which was taken"
"Given back"
"The fruits of life"
"Now tainted black"
"The fungal strands"
"Shall cover thee"
"The gifts inside"
"Decayed and free"
"Embrace the gift"
"Respect her words"
"Decay's embrace"
"To all which rots"
"Rotten gift"
As necrotic energies filled each mound Pycena could only hope that this time, the rot would actually take hold.
Regardless, Pycena spent the rest of the day with the town's herbalist, Felicia Cantherellus, painstakingly tending to the soils of the island while lecturing her on how she should treat her duties more seriously.