o
en
The path to the Ancestral Stone was a wound cut through the heart of the ancient forest. Massive black oaks, their branches gnarled like arthritic fingers, wove a canopy so dense it strangled the first gray light of dawn. The air here was heavy, smelling of wet earth, decaying leaves, and the metallic tang of impending death.
/1/106268/coverbig.jpg?v=68ee3811e13766bfd6bc1f0bbf591a92&imageMogr2/format/webp)