Zuun'shaarhoun
Zuun'shaarhoun is an endless, sentient forest within
The Realm of Dark, where the souls of the paranoid, cruel, and predatory are condemned to suffer. No two wanderers experience the forest the same way. Trees shift subtly behind their backs. Paths dissolve. The canopy is so thick with dead leaves that not even the light of torment can find its way through.
There is no true path—only isolation, dread, and the constant presence of something unseen just beyond the next breath.
"I can’t see anymore. Not in the way that matters. The dark here isn’t night—it’s deeper. It’s heavy. It presses. I thought my eyes would adjust, but they only burn. Shapes flicker, just before I blink. A claw? A smile? Or was that mine? I heard something breathing beside me. Close enough to touch. I didn’t move. It didn’t either. Sometimes I run, just to feel my heartbeat—just to know I’m still real. But the paths curve back. I’ve passed the same root three times, though it wasn’t in the same place each time. I whispered a prayer today. Not to the gods—they aren’t listening. I whispered to the thing that follows. I asked if it could be quick. It hasn’t answered. I think that means no."
To step into Zuun’Shaarhoun is to step into absence. Not just the absence of light, but the absence of direction, of comfort, of certainty. The moment a soul enters, they are swallowed by a blackness so complete that even their memories begin to dim. The eye never adjusts here—shadows remain absolute, and light is a rumor the forest has long since devoured.
The ground is damp and soft, and every footstep seems too loud, too exposed. Twigs snap in patterns that mimic footsteps just behind. Cold air shifts against the skin as if something unseen brushes past. At times, the darkness flickers—just enough to see a silhouette, a movement, a glint of antler or eye—and then it vanishes, leaving the mind doubting whether it ever saw anything at all.
This location is used for those whose sins and guilt stem from predatory cruelty, manipulative betrayal, or willful abandonment of others to danger. It is not for the wrathful or the proud—it is for those who hunted, who used trust as a weapon, or who let others suffer to preserve themselves.
These souls are not broken by physical pain, but by reflection.
Absolution
If a soul accepts its guilt and stops running, lying prostrate in silence for three days without food, fire, or voice, the Hollow may lift its curse. The trees open in a clearing and light seeps down, dissolving the soul into essence.
Few ever stop running. Most never even consider it.
Location under
The abominations that stalk within the flora leave no sound, no scent, no trace - Only fear.
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