Time flies, and in the blink of an eye, winter has arrived.
Shadow Land, Fairy Forest.
Stepping into the forest, Lynch surveyed his surroundings with a gaze full of regret and sighs.
What met his eyes was a scene of utter devastation, like the end of days.
The once lush and towering tree canopies that blocked out the sky were gone, leaving only charred, barren trunks standing stark, like countless emaciated arms reaching hopelessly toward the heavens.
The ground was covered in a thick layer of black ash. With each step, the ash puffed into the air, choking anyone nearby with its acrid, burnt smell—the smell of trees, flowers, and animal lives consumed by flames, mingled with lingering smoke that stubbornly clung to the air.
The once winding and crystal-clear stream was now filled with ash, broken limbs, and decaying leaves. The water, muddied and sluggish, seemed to silently weep for the forest's grim fate.
