Northern Elderwood

Separated from the southern forest by the wide, glimmering current of the ElderwoodFlow, the Northern Elderwood stretches from the river’s northern bank into the uplands beyond. Though less storied than its southern twin, it is no less ancient—and no less formidable. This is a forest where the trees are fewer, but taller; where the shadows are gentler, but the silence runs deeper.   The Northern Elderwood is a land of solitude. Unlike the myth-laden depths of the Elderwood proper, this northern reach holds fewer myths, fewer stories—but a greater sense of stillness. Moss-covered roots climb over old stones, and lichen veils fallen logs like a shroud. In many places, there are no trails at all—only the ghost of paths animals once took, and those who know how to read them.   Weather here is more temperate, the canopy sparser. Sunlight filters down in golden rays that shift with the breeze, illuminating glades thick with underbrush and thickets where no axe has ever swung. While not hostile, the forest does not welcome strangers—it simply is, vast and indifferent to the footsteps of men.   Hunters, herbalists, and wandering monks have long used the fringe paths along the Elderwood Flow, but few venture deeper unless necessity demands it. And yet, for those who walk quietly, the Northern Elderwood offers something rare in the world of men: peace without pretense. It is a place that asks for nothing and offers no explanations. Only silence, age, and time.