Beneath the temporal echoes, the pines stand still--
yet creep beyond the knowing horizon, an assembly
of needles and whispers, speaking in tongues
"Is this... now or an illusion of times yet dreamed?"
murmurs Elena, lost amid the quantum boughs.
The forest glitches, flickers into dimensions unseen.
A voice, perhaps her own, responds from somewhere
beyond the visible grove, "When all choices
collapse, only the pines remember." The ground
shakes - glitching reality, in splintered fragments.
Here, choices reflected in alternate forms --
shadows not cast by light but by absence itself.
Navigate the branches at your peril, for
the path is both set and unset.