Deep within this ancient forest, something strange appears… Known as “fae,” these elusive beings appear like a fracture in nature — perhaps its final defense against human greed. Small in size, crowned in blossoms, they tie their lives to fragile places — a lone mushroom or a crooked tree. If that life falters, so too does she. They do not attack. They resist. When humans trespass carelessly… when profit is valued above life… the forest answers. A broken mushroom, a crushed flower — and the fae begins to follow. Through unseen eyes it watches, and her sisters rise in answer. Alone, she warns: a vanished tool, a looping path, a whisper where no one stands. But together they weave resistance — branches that fall, rings of stones that trap, lights that lead the arrogant astray. Some believe such wanderers are not lost at all… but led into another realm. Rarely glimpsed, never captured, the faes endure for more than a century, guarding what is fragile with quiet defiance. Not of violence but of care, of solidarity. Guardians cloaked in blossoms, sisters of and in a forest that refuses to be owned, bought or tamed, together in unioson, socially with the protectors of the forest’s breath.