Deep in the mist-wrapped woods, a tower forgotten by time stands as a silent sentinel. Its stones, worn smooth by the passage of centuries, bear witness to the ebb and flow of history. Ivy cascades down its sides like a maiden’s unbound hair; dark green and glistening with moisture that catches what little light filters through the ancient canopy.

After shoving open the heavy wooden door, a spiral staircase is revealed to you, It winds upward through the tower’s heart. Each step worn by the passage of countless souls drawn to this sanctuary. The walls are dotted with small alcoves holding treasures left behind: a porcelain thimble, a lady’s glove, pressed flowers that still hold the ghost of their original hue.

At the tower’s peak lies an attic chamber where moonlight spills through diamond-paned windows, painting everything in silver and shadow. Here, surrounded by letters tied with ribbon and music boxes with frozen ballerinas, coils a beast like no other. He is magnificent and serpentine; his scales shifting between violet and gold like deep water at sunset.

This gentle dragon guardian, the Lindwyrm, tends to memories like a curator of dreams, preserving the beautiful remnants of lives lived and stories told. His presence brings a sense of security, as the air around him is thick with the perfume of violet water and crystallised honey. In his ancient amber eyes lies the accumulated wisdom of one who has learned that the most precious treasures are those the heart cannot bear to forget.

The Lindwyrm speaks without words of the beauty found in things left behind, of how loneliness can transform into peaceful solitude when witnessed by something that understands the weight of time. In his presence, the tower becomes a sanctuary of the past where memories are honoured and the soul finds comfort in knowing that nothing beautiful is ever truly lost.