🌿Chapter 0 : Lost Swamp today : the memory that breathes 🌿

“The swamp was never truly lost. It was simply waiting to be found again.”

Today, Lost Swamp has become a strange, almost sacred destination for the curious, the dreamers… and the reckless. It can only be reached by boat, winding through the slow, opaque waters of the Mirelune River, bordered by reeds that seem to listen.

Local authorities have tried to turn it into a tourist site: a few docks were built, guides were trained, brochures printed. But nothing lasts long in the swamp. Signs grow moss, paths vanish beneath roots, and engines mysteriously die near the Cypress of the Heart, still standing, still silent.

Fishermen see it as a blessing. Rumors say the waters are teeming with silver-scaled fish, with eyes that look too human. Some return with magnificent catches. Others never return at all.

The elders say the swamp chooses its visitors. That those who truly listen can still hear the whispers of the Veilers, and that sometimes, at dusk, Elias Thorn’s lantern glows through the mist—guiding or misleading those who venture too far.

Because even if the swamp seems asleep, its heart still beats. And it remembers.