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The crackling campfire was my only companion, its light painting the ancient trees in flickering shades of orange and black. Cross-legged, I sat mesmerized by the hypnotic dance of the flames. As night deepened, the fire intensified, its heat drawing me into a trance. The world dissolved, replaced by a swirling vortex of light and shadow. From the fire's heart, a vision unfolded, revealing the culmination of a 235-hyul prophecy. The whispers of the Woodlands Diary Pages, once a fragmented puzzle pieced together by brave heroes, now coalesced into a clear blueprint etched in the flames. This prophecy wasn't about retrieving an artifact, but forging one anew. The flames parted like a curtain, revealing scenes of the past. General Blight?s desperate act, "Nagnang is my beloved! Her will is my command!" echoed from the fiery depths, no longer a simple declaration of villainy, but a desperate cry of a man protecting a misunderstood ecosystem. His "Vile," the catalyst, shimmered in the flames, no longer just a poison, but a key ingredient, glowing with otherworldly luminescence. The diary pages, once scattered and faded, now burned brightly in the fire's heart, no longer separate fragments, but a unified code, their words blazing with meaning. "Death comes but once to a man wanting to die, but those who wish to make their way as heroes live on forever within the memory of others." This wasn't about battlefields, but enduring craftsmanship, a testament to transformation. "General Blight, tipping his 'Vile' of venom onto the Woodlands. I felt it such a play of words back at that time, vile instead of vial... it was the way he said it that struck fear into my heart." The fear, the fire whispered, wasn't of the poison, but the unknown power it awakened ? a power now visible in the flames, necessary for the forging. The vision shifted, the flames reshaping to show the Woodlands, no longer a place of dread, but a source of vital components, its secrets revealed by the firelight. The waters, though still potent, shimmered, now understood as a source of rare minerals, purified through careful process, their essence glowing like embers. The creatures, powerful guardians, appeared in the flames, their forms shifting, each holding within their essence crucial elements for the forging, their power now a controlled burn. The diary pages, now one with the fire, revealed the true prophecy, not spoken, but shown, themselves an ingredient in a recipe for creation, woven from the life of the Woodlands: | |