Legend LXXVII – The Guardian of Hidden Paths

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  • Michael Wischniewski's avatar Artist
    Michael Wi...
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More about Legend LXXVII – The Guardian of Hidden Paths

In the heart of the autumn forest, where the light filters through the branches in golden flakes and the air is fragrant with moss and warm memories, lives a being as old as the world's first songs. Small in stature, yet great in knowledge, he wanders among the trees like a whispering thought that never falters. He is called the Guardian of Hidden Paths, and all who see him know that he is in a place where the world still holds secrets. He is a goblin, certainly, with moss-green skin, pointed ears, and eyes that sparkle like drops of molten amber. But his gaze is not sly or mischievous like those of others of his kind. No—he wears the solemnity of a chronicler, a keeper. His boots are worn, yet well cared for; His garment is made of scraps of leather and forest fabrics, and small pouches, compasses, and gleaming pendants dangle from it, jingling softly as he moves. But his most important tool is the map. A single, enormous map, larger than himself, which he carries before him with astonishing strength. The fabric is old, almost parchment-like, and the lines on it sometimes seem to move—not like ink, but like living paths, adjusting as the forest itself changes its breath. For the autumn forest of Eldenpath is no ordinary forest. Its paths are alive. They grow, shift, close old routes, and open new ones. Wanderers who underestimate it quickly lose themselves in endless loops, while those who enter with respect discover the beauty of a world that rarely reveals itself. And it is precisely here that the small guardian fulfills his task: maintaining the balance of the paths. One day, so the story goes, he encountered a merchant from the north who had been walking in circles for hours, desperately believing the forest was toying with him. When the merchant saw the goblin, he was at first convinced a child had lost their way—but then he noticed the map, larger than any human shield, and the determination in the small face. “You are lost,” said the goblin without reproach. “The forest is cursed!” the merchant called back. The guardian merely smiled gently and shook his head. “Not cursed. Protective. It’s testing you.” The merchant laughed bitterly. “And what is it testing? My patience?”
“Your heart.”

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