The Cursed Grove of the Fae King Deep in a forgotten, mist- covered forest, lies a sacred Celtic grove, abandoned for centuries. The trees, twisted and gnarled, form an almost cathedral- like structure, their branches woven together like a ribcage around an ancient stone altar. A single blackened oak tree, covered in runes that glow faintly under the moonlight, stands at the center. The air is filled with the sound of distant fae laughter, eerie and unsettling, as if the spirits of the forest still linger, unseen. The forest floor is covered in crimson flowers and withered leaves, and in the distance, a shallow pool of black water reflects the moon, though its surface distorts and shifts unnaturally. Ancient Celtic torches, their flames an eerie green- blue, flicker along the path, lighting the way deeper into the grove. Legends say the Fae King was cursed to sleep beneath the tree, awaiting the day when the veil between worlds will thin, and he will rise again. But beware—those who enter never leave unchanged