In the deep forest of Myrselva, where sunlight only breaks through in fractured patches, the Mycelia grow. The Mycelia are glowing, enchanted mushrooms that appear only in places where the forest becomes completely still. Their caps shimmer in colors that cannot truly be named, sometimes like liquid moonlight, sometimes like embers drifting beneath dark water. Some say their light changes depending on the thoughts of those who watch them. The creatures of the forest do not fear them but guard them. Deer with moss-covered antlers rest in silent circles around the Mycelia, and birds weave their nests from luminous spores that drift through the air like soft fireflies. Ancient stories tell that the Mycelia can hold memories within their glowing flesh. Those who are lost and stumble upon them sometimes hear faint voices from forgotten times, as if the forest itself is remembering. Few dare to touch them. It is said that anyone who does sees, for a single moment, that the forest is not just trees and shadows, but a living memory of roots, light, and time.
