I read this yesterday.
I have come back today to read it again.
It is beauty, art, religion of spirit. A temple residing within rather than a construct without.
I love knowing that it will always be here on the chain.
A temple waiting for me when I need asylum from the clutter of the world.
To remind myself of the beauty of life, the solitude found in the momentary folding of hands.
Temples constructed by words, by the palm of hands.
To remember that divine is always there within the self and within others. Those who wish to express and connect to the wonder of all things infinitely eternal, perceived as intangible until one dares to acknowledge truth, a knowing that is not easily named, and endeavours to define it on a quest for words to articulate such wonder.

This is evident throughout your novel. The beauty of spirit, connectedness the mana, the union of these concepts within the fictional construct. Professed at times in the beauty of verse from the less than confident ramblings of a bard, who in his reflections also conveys a universally relateable inner dialog that is undeniably human. Then we see him utilise manufactured self inflation and self deprecating comedy to conceal his insecurities. Mixing poetic verse with puns, he conceals his emotion behind jesting.
Your work is so much more than a fantasy novel. It has layers of truth and understanding that goes beyond both that genre and the theme of environmental preservation.