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"I didn't know I was invited," Elara whispered, clutching the silver key.
As she reached the tiny circular door, it creaked open before she could even knock. Inside, the air smelled of cedar and old parchment. Books with spines made of dragon-scale lined the curved walls, and a teapot hummed a low, melodic tune on a stove carved from a single river stone. 00FE9511-78EA-49E4-A96C-66E53CACB38F.jpeg
"The key chooses the guest, and the tree provides the home," the Keeper replied, gesturing to a steaming cup. "You’ve spent your life looking for a place where you belong. The Root-Hollow has been waiting for you to come home and start writing the next chapter of the forest's history." "I didn't know I was invited," Elara whispered,