Story 1150: Eyes from the Bark

The trees in Wyrmshade Glen had eyes.

Not leaves. Not knots. Eyes.

Round, unblinking, and wide as a silver coin, they bulged from bark and branches alike. Some wept sap like tears. Others twitched when you passed. All of them watched.

For generations, the glen was forbidden. Even the wild animals gave it a wide berth. But Edda Varn, a scholar from the distant city of Cindral, thought the tales of Wyrmshade were poetic metaphors—exaggerations of superstitious woodsmen.

She arrived at the edge of the glen on the 13th night of harvest, clutching her notebook, a lantern, and a relic she found in a forgotten monastery: a carved wooden eye, identical to those rumored in the forest.

Her research called it the Sight of Ulosh—a god whose gaze could pierce lies and memory alike.

As she entered the glen, the forest stilled.

The leaves held their breath.