
The trees part to reveal a sunken stone grove. Ancient standing stones rise around a circular pool, their worn faces carved with strange spirals and old druid marks. At the center, upon a moss-covered altar, sits the weathered stone figure of a small druid, hands outstretched. Fresh flowers have been placed in his palms.
The air smells of wet earth and blossoms. Somewhere beneath the reeds, something croaks once, then falls silent.