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Whispers of Silverwood — Prologue — When the Forest Began to Bleed The Silverwood did not fear easily. For ten thousand years its roots had drunk moonlight and memory alike, untouched by the wars of younger races. Armies rose and fell beyond its borders like passing storms, but the forest endured — ancient, patient, eternal. Until the animals began to run. Elyndra Vaelith felt it before she saw it. The wind carried wrongness. Not smoke alone — though smoke lingered faintly — but iron, rot, and something deeper… something organized. Predatory. Intentional. She crouched along a moss-covered ridge, fingers brushing the soil. The earth trembled faintly beneath her palm. Marching. Many feet. Too many. Her emerald pendant grew warm against her chest, reacting to disturbance in the living world. Birds above her erupted from the canopy in frantic waves, abandoning nests they would normally defend to death. That was when she heard it. A horn. Low. Brutal. Not crafted for music — only for command. Across the valley, tre

Character created by @Timothy McAdams

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