"The storm is not the only danger coming," Nyxara warned, as a raven landed on her arm. The whispers of the forest urged her forward.

The forest doesn’t just hold trees and shadows — it holds memory. In every moss-soft path and hush of wind, there are whispers of those who once walked beside us. Some linger to guide. Others to mourn. And a few to remind us that the veil between nature and spirit is far thinner than we like to believe. Step quietly. The grove remembers.