The Grove rested under a quiet, silvery moon. The Fénix perched in their fire trees, their golden feathers glowing faintly even in the cool night air. The Night Watcher owls circled silently above, their wings tracing arcs in the moonlight. Chiomunks scurried through the undergrowth, collecting seeds and storing them for winter. Bees had returned to their hives, humming softly as if lulled by the calm. The Whispering Fungi pulsed faintly beneath the soil, their network spreading life throughout the roots of trees and plants.
Lira stood before the Great Old Spirit Tree, the Book open in her hands. Its pages flickered with a soft golden glow, displaying a diagram of the Grove and the creatures she had introduced, alongside illustrations of unknown flowers with silvery petals—plants that only bloomed in the quiet of night.
