In the remote land of West where sun sets, there's a forest that has been dying out lately.
The tree entwined and rotted, and sunlight never penetrated the blackened leaves and branches.
The forest where once was full of animals now shows no trace of life.
People now called this forest the Lichwood and feared it.
But the traveler who stepped into the wood by chance witnessed the strange light.
That cursed light had shape of death but somehow was so warm.
It was the light that was ran and hidden from the world and yet wasn't lonely since it was there together, he said.
Such a bloviathan, that traveler.
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A.Shipwright
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