*
The forest lay dark and still under the cloak of night. The moon, a pale silver orb, cast its ethereal light upon the trees, illuminating the twisted branches and casting deep shadows upon the forest floor. The leaves rustled gently in the breeze, whispering secrets to one another in hushed tones. The ancient trees stood tall and proud, their trunks gnarled and twisted with age, seeming to watch over the forest with a silent vigil. The only sound to be heard was the faint chirping of crickets and the distant hoot of an owl. The forest was a place of mystery and magic, a place where the ancient and the wild still held sway. It was a place of wonder and beauty, a place to be respected and revered.
Mafesta made her way through the dense forest, her pale and silvery eyes fixed on the path
