InkLightning

The forest was the apotheosis of all forests. Trees of all shapes stretch for miles on end, in many shapes, sizes and ages from the smallest sapling of only a few days to the largest oaks that have stood for over a century, perhaps even longer. Moss grew on every inch of the great forest, growing even on the faded path that had once been maintained with the utmost care by whoever treaded it, leading to a mighty stone statue of a great female warrior, with great flowing hair tied in a ponytail that scarcely held back the hair’s fluidity as it bellowed behind an unseen wind frozen by the stone masons who carved her. Once people worshipped her mighty power and would pray to her for guidance, in a time once known by all. The world had moved on since then, and with time, nature had gradually returned to the clearing the shrine stood, taking over what little remnants of the once proud era remained. Yet one still ventures here. A purple clad skeleton in a top hat walked along the faded