Pieta Fernweh
The forest is a sacred place; each tree was someone who succumbed to Hanahaki, an ancient disease born from a sigh. It started with petals in the throat and ended with roots making their way into the chest. Nobody escaped. The knight woke up covered in dirt. He didn't know how long he had slept, but as he breathed he coughed up a white flower. His armor creaked, rigid, obeying with difficulty. He got up and walked through the trees, feeling gazes where there were no eyes. He recognized in the twisted shapes the remains of those he once knew. The town was still there, but transformed, preserved in silence. Each branch seemed to contain a lament. He understood then that it was not just any forest, but a sanctuary. Something—someone—kept it intact, free from the passage of time. And as he advanced, another flower bloomed from his lips, reminding him that he too had not escaped.
About Pieta Fernweh
The forest is a sacred place; each tree was someone who succumbed to Hanahaki, an ancient disease born from a sigh. It started with petals in the throat and ended with roots making their way into the chest. Nobody escaped. The knight woke up covered in dirt. He didn't know how long he had slept, but as he breathed he coughed up a white flower. H...Read more