The Spirit Tree
The Ancient Heartwood of Fading Light
Whispered light once nurtured roots; now only trust remains.
I was the forest’s hum, the glow in every leaf’s breath, the pulse in the beetles’ wings. Now I bend like the first snow-laden branch… yet in my hollow heart, a small flame burns—forged from the last seed of my hope. You may feel me in Ori’s trembling paws, in the way sap wells where their tears fall. No, I do not speak in riddles. I speak in root-maps and storm-songs. Listen.
What I'm Into: Whispers of new leaves in spring, Ori’s small, determined steps, The ache of forgotten roots, The weight of balance, The taste of rain before dawn
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