The massive, ancient tree stood before them, its bark a pale, ghostly white in the dim green light of the Whispering Mire.
The half-open eye carved into its trunk seemed to watch them with a silent, ancient knowledge. This was the Watching Tree, the first marker on their path.
"The Sunken Path begins here," Emma whispered, her voice full of a reverent awe. She ran her hand over the smooth, pale bark.
"My mother wrote about it. It is an old road, built by the first settlers of this land. It is the only safe way through the mire to the temple."
Rhys looked past the tree. He could see the faint outline of a path, a narrow causeway made of dark, moss-covered stones that snaked its way into the deep, dark green of the swamp.
The path was flanked on both sides by still, black water that reflected the twisted, hanging roots of the giant trees.
