Valcroy's senses returned slowly, as if he were emerging from the depths of a dream. His eyelids fluttered open, and he was greeted by the soft, dappled light that filtered through the canopy above. The glow was not harsh but gentle and soothing, bathing the forest in a silvery-green haze.
As he pushed himself up, Valcroy felt the cool, velvety moss beneath him, its softness a stark contrast to the harsh, unforgiving ground he was accustomed to. He glanced around, his eyes adjusting to the surreal luminosity of his surroundings. The forest seemed alive with a quiet, almost reverent beauty.
The trees stood tall and ancient, their trunks adorned with shimmering patterns that seemed to writhe and pulse in rhythm with an unseen heartbeat. Valcroy's gaze traveled upward, taking in the intricate latticework of branches draped with vines that glowed faintly, as though illuminated by a hidden source of magic.
