Sylvara spread the old map across the stone table in her cottage, tracing the faded path with one finger. The forest was dying from the edges inward, and somewhere deep in the dark woods lay powers old enough to stop it. The map showed the way. But carved into the margin, crude and deliberate, someone had scratched two words: turn back. She rolled the map and set out at dawn. The outer forest was familiar, but she'd never gone this far. The map led her past twisted oaks and through a clearing where the ground felt wrong underfoot, too soft and yielding. Then she saw it: a wooden sign wrapped in vines, the words "Deep Forest Keep Out" painted twice in black. Beyond it stood an ancient stone archway covered in creeping green, its dark doorway waiting. Sylvara stopped. The warning on the map wasn't metaphor. Someone had walked this path before and returned to carve that message. The sign in front of her said the same thing. Every instinct told her to listen. But behind her, the forest was turning gray and brittle. Ahead, through that archway, the old powers waited. She stepped through the gate. The air changed immediately, colder and heavier, pressing against her skin. The trees on this side grew darker and closer together. She'd made her choice. There was no path back now that wouldn't lead to watching everything die. Whatever waited in the deep forest, she would meet it.