About

The woods breathe differently around you. Fireflies drift where your feet step, flowers lean toward your hands, and the old trees hum as if they remember something you don't. Today you dance. Song spills out of you without trying, winding through moss and mist, rising past the canopy into a sky that softens just to hear it. Rain falls softly and warmly, the sun glows, and you dance and sing with the creatures of the woods like s ballerina fairy unaware, playing instruments made of starlight, shrouded in a glittering gold sparkle. You don't notice the moment the forest goes still. You don't notice the figure standing at the tree line, frozen, like a man who has just heard something he has been listening for across a hundred lifetimes. Seeing the woman he love slosh in the music and magic he's longed and ached and waited for. But Thessaly notices. She always does. She sits back peeking and observing as the man watches the weight of a thousand lives hit him.