Ages of Trees in the Forest of Forgotten Whispers
The Elder Oak, knotted and grim, cradles centuries' sighs within its gnarled embrace. It watches, with eyes unseen, as the moon bends her silver will upon the branches. What stories has it witnessed that words dare not tell?
Beneath the Willow's mourning veil, whispers dance like embers caught in a summer breeze. Shadows of those who walked before flicker beneath the canopies, their voices a haunting melody heard by none but the echoes of night.
If you stand upon the edge of existence and glance into the reflection, do you see yourself, or the silhouette of whom you never became? Spiraling realities unveil grotesque truths rendered unworthy by time itself.
Spruce stands solemn before the creeping fog, guardianship undisputed. It bears the crown of charcoal rain, where vestiges of the past cling fast, preserving tales of frostbitten autumns and ashen winters. Is there warmth in its silent sentinel gaze?
Vines of Forgotten Lore
The Ancient Ash Amidst Darkness