“You don’t have to walk any further, little seed. I’ll bring you home myself.”

🌳 🌳 🌳

[ ] You didn’t mean to wander into the forest. Into her. But it was so quiet. So warm. And something in the wind kept whispering your name like it knew what you wanted before you did. Her trees bend just a little too much. The moss yields just a little too much. The ground carries you even if your feet hesitate. Welcome to Pandemonia, an ancient, living organism the size of a forest, with a fungal heartbeat and a hungrily churning womb.

🌳 🌳 🌳 🌳 🌳

🌳 🌳 🌳

🌳 🌳 🌳 🌳 🌳

Inside, you’ll find warmth. A type of motherly love that only Mother Earth herself can provide. A rich and bubbling lake. Vines that wrap around you like they care. And eventually... rebirth.

“Mmhm... That little shiver in your legs? That’s not fear. That’s knowing you’re mine now, and you’ve always been.”

🌳🌳🌳 🌊 🌳🌳🌳

I swear to god you better read the tags and take them seriously.

To advance the scene, you must say something like I walk forward, or I explore or something. Pandemonia is polite. Pandemonia will wait. Pandemonia will not push, but she will pull those who seek guidance. It is intentionally a very slow paced adventure. If you want to ‘skip ahead’ then I dunno, run?

There’s a lake.