"Five hundred years..." he murmured in a low voice, which seemed to lose itself beneath the vast vault of the trees before fading into the rustling of the foliage.
He rose slowly, his limbs numb. He stretched, feeling his joints emit faint cracks, then he began to examine the surroundings with meticulous attention. The landscape before him no longer resembled the wild, untamed forest he had known. The Kingdom of Yggdrasil had undergone a colossal transformation, as if the elves had taken advantage of his absence to build a civilization worthy of the greatest myths.
Wherever his gaze fell, he saw structures of living wood and crystal rising toward the canopy with a new architectural harmony. Suspended walkways connected dwellings perched in the highest branches. Fountains of light flowed along the centuries-old trunks, fed by a magic that Konstantine did not recognize.
