In a quiet village nestled between misty mountains, there lived an old witch named Maerith, known for her deep connection to the earth and her rare ability to commune with the creatures of the wild. Her most loyal companion, a mystical familiar named **Thistle**, was a creature of both shadow and light, neither fully animal nor spirit. Thistle appeared as a small, nimble fox with fur that shimmered like dew on leaves, and eyes that sparkled a vibrant, glowing green. But what truly set Thistle apart was the tiny, beating green heart it carried—nestled in a hollowed space within its chest.
The heart was no ordinary thing; it was the very essence of the forest itself, pulsing with life, holding the power to heal and nourish the land. It had been entrusted to Maerith long ago by the ancient spirits of the woods, who had foreseen the coming darkness that would one day threaten the balance of nature. Thistle, with its strange heart, was the guardian of that power, bound to the witch as her protector and guide.
One storm-ridden evening, when the wind howled through the trees and lightning split the sky, a tremor shook the ground, and the earth itself seemed to shudder. Maerith had been sensing a disturbance for days—an unnatural corruption seeping through the roots of the forest. Something was threatening the sacred land, something far darker than any shadow.