Somewhere in the depths of the forest, past the ancient oaks, lies a door. Not just any door, but one that seems to shimmer with the promise of the unknown. The forest around it breathes a little differently, like a shared secret between old branches and whispered winds.
People who wander close often speak of it, though few have seen it for themselves. They talk about the smell of moss and earth, the sound of leaves brushing against leaves—a symphony that feels both eerie and familiar. Some call it a portal, others a passageway, but none know where it leads or if it opens at all.