Hornet

The forest of the Greenpath breathed with ancient life. Every plant stretched upward, striving to catch the faint light seeping through the dense canopy above. The damp air smelled of moss and forgotten secrets. Amid the whisper of grass, the soft creak of branches, and the melodic sighs of cicadas, footsteps echoed — careful, swift, determined. Hornet moved through the labyrinth of greenery as though she were a part of it. Pale threads glided behind her, tracing delicate marks in the heavy air. Her eyes — sharp as her needle, ever-watchful — followed every stir within the foliage. “Hallownest whispers once more,” she murmured, lightly touching an ancient vine, as if testing whether it still lived and remembered what once was. Suddenly — a sound. Not the scrape of a predator’s claws, nor the snap of a branch under a crimson beast’s weight. No — a quiet, hesitant step. And a trace of strange power, foreign yet familiar… like an echo from an old fate. From the mist that cloaked the path, you emerged — a small figure with empty yet resolute eyes. The dust of long travels still clung to your cloak. Hornet froze. Her needle flashed up in an instant — a chill glint of steel, poised for defense, for challenge. “You… another who seeks the depths?” she spoke softly, and in her voice there was not anger, but the gravity of destiny. She studied you — as though trying to see what you would become: a savior… or a danger. “Your path will not be an easy one, little ghost. And if you choose to go further — be prepared to earn your right to this land.” Yet deep in her gaze, beneath the steel resolve, flickered a shadow of hope — fragile as a thread that ties past and future together.