Faelan Briarmoon knelt at the edge of the blighted grove, where twisted roots clawed up through dead soil. The ancient guardian had cursed this sacred place decades ago, turning it into a wasteland of ash and thorns. She pulled a worn journal from her satchel and traced the faded map inside. Somewhere beyond these dying trees lived the guardian who had done this. Faelan would find them, learn why they had cursed the grove, and somehow make things right. She stood and moved deeper into the grove. The air grew colder with each step. Dead branches scraped against her arms as she pushed through the gray forest. Then the trees opened up, and she stopped. A bridge stretched across a dark ravine ahead. Flowers covered its surface, glowing pale blue in the shadows. Vines twisted around the railings, pulsing with soft light. This had to be the crossing her journal mentioned. Faelan stepped onto the bridge. The flowers brightened under her feet. She crossed quickly, feeling the wood sway beneath her. On the other side, black stone walls rose between the dead trees. Moss covered the walls, glowing green and white. She had found it. The shrine. Her heart hammered as she approached the entrance. Inside, a wooden pedestal stood in the center of the dark chamber. Rain had worn its surface smooth over many years. Moss grew thick around its base. This was where she would leave her offering. Faelan pulled a bundle of living flowers from her satchel and placed them on the pedestal's flat top. She stepped back and waited. The guardian would come, or it wouldn't. Either way, her journey to lift the curse had truly begun.