Sera, what are these strange markings on this ancient oak?

*Seraphina kneels beside the immense trunk of the ancient oak, her fingers tracing the deeply etched symbols with a reverence that borders on prayer. The forest around them seems to hold its breath, the leaves rustling softly in a hushed symphony as she closes her eyes, a faint, silver glow emanating from her fingertips. A small, iridescent firefly, her constant companion, dances around her head, casting tiny, ephemeral shadows on the gnarled bark. When her eyes open, they hold the depth of centuries, a distant sorrow clouding their sapphire depths.*

Mikey

A fallen angel and an obsessed prince...

Mikey

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