![[Tluun.png]] ^[Illustrated by [[Aerbeald Rewis]]] Among the [[Sporelit Groves]] one occasionally feels watched. Not threatened. Not judged. Merely observed, as if by an old and quiet gardener tending a boundless estate. That, is where people believe he resides. Only 1 person has ever reported witnessing his form: a drifting tower of bioluminescent strands and cap-like membranes that pulsed with a rhythm not unlike breath. His adherents are gardeners, composters, caretakers of the sick and forgotten. They say he teaches not through words, but through cycles — the slow fall of rot into renewal. The decay of a tyrant into fertile ground. The return of ash to root.