The forest existed outside of time, a place where the air was filled with the sounds of ages gone by. Stepping under its trees felt like entering a grand church made of living wood, where the trunks were as wide as castle towers, and their roots twisted deep into the earth like the veins of the world.
Sunlight streamed through enormous leaves, casting golden patches of light on the mossy ground, creating patterns that seemed to share secrets known only to ancient stones.
These trees were like wise old friends. Their bark, twisted and covered in lichen, showed the scars of storms that happened long before any kings ruled. High above, their branches created a ceiling that sheltered a quiet grove where ferns opened like green scrolls and glowing mushrooms sparkled softly in shades of blue, resembling a starry sky on the forest floor. The air was rich with the smells of damp earth, cedar, and the sweet scent of hidden flowers, lingering like a gentle prayer.
A stream wound through this sacred space, its water as dark as polished stone but clear enough to reflect the tall trees above, their branches meeting in a soft embrace, as if sharing an ancient secret. Now and then, a leaf would drift down, spiraling lazily before landing on the water, like a tiny boat setting off for a hidden place.
Time seemed to fade away here. Shadows gathered where the trees were thickest, hinting at paths leading into the unknown. In the distance, a low hum echoed—maybe the creaking of wood or the deep pulse of roots drawing life from depths beyond human reach. Standing in this place made you feel both small and held; it was as if every breath you took was noticed, every step blessed by the quiet watchfulness of the Eldertrees.
In the center stood the oldest tree, its trunk twisting like a giant pillar. Its base formed a grand archway wide enough for a horse to pass, though no one dared to enter. Inside that hollow, the air shimmered, as if the tree's heart had become something older than magic—a place where the line between earth and eternity was thin.
This was more than just a forest; it was a symbol of patience, embodying the slow, unstoppable force of life. To witness it was to feel a bittersweet reminder of one's own fleeting existence, but also a deep gratitude for the beauty that existed and for the chance to stand, if only briefly, in its shadow.
Then, suddenly, the air 'cracked.' Where there was once stillness, reality tore open like shattered glass. The forest trembled as space itself twisted, unleashing a whirlwind of motion. A body was hurled through the rift, crashing to the ground amidst a shower of moss and fallen leaves. It rolled, limbs flopping like a puppet cut from its strings, finally coming to rest against the roots of an Eldertree.
The man lay broken. His thin body shook, a map of destruction: one arm was gone at the elbow, the stump raw and glistening; his clothes hung in bloody tatters, revealing scars that told stories of battles fought and lost. Most alarming was a gaping wound in his abdomen, edges pulsating with an unnatural light as flesh slowly healed itself—agonizingly, as if his cells were fighting against death itself. Yet, his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. He was alive.
The birds fell silent. The stream stopped its song, as if the forest held its breath. In the grand presence of the Eldertrees, the man felt out of place—a blemish on this sacred ground. His face, half-buried in the dirt, was pale but toughened by an unyielding spirit. Even in his broken state, he clung to life with a fierce determination, as if he had forgotten how to give up.
Above him, the rift closed with a sound like melting ice, leaving only the faintest shimmer in the air. The Eldertrees groaned, their ancient branches creaking in a language older than sorrow. They had seen empires rise and fall, survived disasters that reshaped the world. But this—this wounded, relentless man at their feet—was something new.
And far more dangerous than anything they had ever known. Despite his brokenness, an aura of death surrounded him, as if he and death were inseparable.
As they had in the past, they could only watch, becoming spectators at the beginning of a new story. Perhaps this mysterious man would bring change to a land that had long resisted it.