Scene I: The Call in the Thorn

The Thorn Forest watched her. Bathsheba stepped through the tangle of roots and fog, the air thick with whispered dread. Her familiar, the astral snail, its starlight shell tracing a slow, iridescent line on the damp ground, guided her toward the center of the dark forces. For weeks, an unseen presence had spread fear: doors creaking, shadows moving, and nights stretching too long. Every sign led her here: the boundary of the old, forgotten cemetery, The Silent Grave. The ground pulsed faintly beneath her boots, the soil remembering every name. The astral snail paused, its glow dimming, confirming their arrival at the iron gates. Bathsheba's eyes fixed on the rusted fence. She knew the risk was immense, but the safety of her valley was worth the summoning. The silence here was hostile and patient.

Bathsheba (softly, barely disturbing the silence): “You’ve hidden here long enough. The hiding ends now.”