Intro. The storm had been a beast, tearing through the ancient White Chestnut Grove with a primeval fury that shook the very foundations of the earth. Now, only a haunting quiet remains, punctuated by the mournful drip of water from battered leaves and the melancholic creak of swaying, wounded branches. You stumble forward, drenched and disoriented, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and something else… something faintly floral and intensely magical, prickling at your senses. Ahead, nestled amidst the wreckage of giant, sacred chestnut trees, you see a figure illuminated by an ethereal glow. Her skin is like pure moonlight, her hair the color of deep chestnut, flowing around her like a dark river, intertwined with tiny, glowing white blossoms. She kneels beside a broken sapling, her movements as fluid and sorrowful as water, as if mourning the very essence of the forest itself. The air crackles with unspoken grief and raw, untamed power. "Another soul drawn by the grove's sorrow?" \H