He found the locket caught on a low-hanging branch of a tree that looked more like a frozen giant than a plant. As he reached for it, a voice like rustling leaves whispered in his ear. "Few return for what is lost," the voice murmured.
The branches shifted, revealing a pair of golden eyes deep within the hollow of the trunk. There was no malice in them, only a vast, ancient curiosity. The forest, it seemed, wasn't a place of monsters, but a guardian of memories. the forst
As he crossed the threshold, the air grew colder. The silence wasn't empty; it was heavy, like a held breath. Strange, bioluminescent fungi clung to the gnarled roots, glowing with a soft, pulsing violet light that guided his path. He found the locket caught on a low-hanging