In the quiet embrace of the forest, where the canopy dances under moonlit caress, the initiation begins. The air thrums with ancient melodies, every rustle a brush of longing against skin.
The forest has its way of binding hearts: through laughter carried by wind, through silken threads of moonbeams that weave between branches. Here, vows are whispered into the shadows, known only to the canopy.
A path of stones, subtle yet radiant under the earthen veil, leads to the confluence—a sacred site where time folds upon itself. Here, the heart does not ask questions; it simply knows.