Maya Berg reached out, her fingers brushing against the warm glow of the stag’s face. The light pulsed, casting dancing shadows on the surrounding trees and the figures that stood motionless within them. She felt drawn to this place, compelled by an unseen force. A quiet hum resonated from the tree, a strange melody woven with the scent of pine needles and something else…something like cinnamon. It was a curious feeling, both unsettling and comforting, as if she had stumbled upon a secret celebration hidden deep within the woods. She wondered what it all meant, this gathering in the dark, but for now, she simply stood there, bathed in the stag’s light.