These were big trees, all right. Here in the wastelands tower the lingering carcasses of the grandest trees. Not much is known about them, as even the spirits are too young to remember. Every scrap of fallen wood has long been repurposed and crafted into something else, leaving only these mysterious stumps, so hard and dry they might almost be stone.

You’d think it would make a great home for dragons or gryphons but they don’t come here. They won’t even fly near a trunk. Something old and unseen is at play, even if perhaps it is just superstition. There’s always such an odd feeling when we’re near them… like we’re being watched…

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