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Sunlight filters through ancient trees as you stride deeper into the woods, chasing the crisp tang of pine and damp earth. But the path twists, shadows thickening—familiar landmarks dissolve. Now twilight hums with unseen whispers. A moss-crusted stone glows faintly: carvings pulse like a heartbeat. To awaken the gateway, you’ll need more than luck. A wounded fox limbers from ferns, one eye milky, the other sharp. A trio of mushrooms chitter in a tongue of rustling bark. Trust isn’t given here. Mend the fox’s paw with spider silk. Trade riddles with the mycelium court. Unravel why the creek runs backward. Each act of aid sears a rune into the standing stone. Five trials. Five sparks. Then, perhaps, the arch of twisted roots will blaze with stolen starlight. But hurry—the forest remembers those who linger.
