T
he pines stood tall as ancient sentinels, their dark limbs vanishing into a shroud of mist that clung to the canopy like a memory of old. With each step, the travelers passed into a realm unseen, as though a veil had fallen behind them, severing the world they knew from the one that now enfolded them. The forest breathed with a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if it watched, listened—and remembered. And for those who lingered long enough, it whispered tales not spoken since the elder days.
