It's strange how you can walk the same forest path a thousand times, and it can feel both familiar and uncharted every time. Today started like any other, but the air had a different weight. Dampness clung to everything like old curtains, hiding something just beyond breath's reach.
I remember the whispers in the wind, friends lost to echo. They warned me about the Hallows, but here I am, caught in its grip once more. Maybe I've been looking for something, or perhaps just trying to find my way back to where I thought I'd left myself.
The trees loom taller than I remember, their gnarled roots twisting stories into the earth itself. I come upon a clearing, a deceptive memory of sunlight illuminating patches of mist. There's a gentle rustle and...
... the haze dances coyly around something unnameable. I've stumbled into this moment before, each incarnation showing me pieces of a puzzle I never have the right picture for.
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