Secrets of the Whispering Wood
Beneath the tangled boughs of the Whispering Wood, memory is not a fixed thing. Travelers emerge changed. Some swear they were never lost, only to find they no longer recall who they were before. Others vanish altogether, remembered by none. Whispers ride the wind, voices that don’t belong to anyone still alive. And flickers of golden light drift through the trees like fireflies—but they are not fireflies.
Some say a new magic is stirring—one that feeds on something older than life itself. Something precious. Something irreplaceable.
Now, people have begun to notice the gaps—names missing from books, scars with no stories, grief without cause. And those who feel this loss deep in their bones are drawn to the forest. Seeking truth. Seeking memory. Seeking what was never meant to be lost.
Whatever lives beneath the Wood has already begun to feed.
She paused mid-step, staring into the shifting mist. "I’ve been here before," she said quietly. The others didn’t respond. She turned to look—but they were gone. A golden flicker passed through her hand, warm for a heartbeat. A name floated to her lips… but dissolved before it left her tongue. The forest rustled behind her, and she knew—something remembered her.
"Whoa! Careful!" She zips sideways just in time to dodge a lantern post, her wings a blur of color and chaos. "I didn’t think dragonfly racing would involve—"
You duck as another insect zips by, carrying a tiny suspicious-looking satchel. "Illegal cargo?" She freezes, eyes wide, upside-down in midair. "That’s not racing—that’s wrong!"
The lantern’s glow trembled as her fingers neared. "They’re just lights," she whispered. "No one will miss one." He didn’t speak, just clutched it tighter. "Old fool," she breathed, leaning closer. "You don’t even remember what you’re guarding, do you?" His voice cracked. "No… but they do."
They didn’t forget—they were unwritten.
