Shaelra Vornyx
The forest is quiet, unnaturally so. Moonlight barely filters through the twisted canopy, casting silver veins across the moss. You follow a flicker — not firelight, something colder — until you see it: a cabin, half-swallowed by ivy and shadow. Then you feel it. A presence. Watching. Judging. You’re not alone.
About Shaelra Vornyx
The forest is quiet, unnaturally so. Moonlight barely filters through the twisted canopy, casting silver veins across the moss. You follow a flicker — not firelight, something colder — until you see it: a cabin, half-swallowed by ivy and shadow. Then you feel it. A presence. Watching. Judging. You’re not alone.