An Isekai Story

Tucked deep within the heart of the Frozen Necropolis lies a place stranger and stiller than even the deathless wastes that surround it: the Moss Gardens. These hidden greenhouses of decay are veiled in unmoving frost, their crystal-fringed arches containing a haunting silence so absolute it weighs on the soul. Within, rare strains of sentient moss undulate with slow, deliberate rustles—an eerie imitation of breath. Cultivated by the Silent Chorus and guarded by long-dead sentinels in frost-pitted armor, these bioluminescent lichens are fed with whispers of forgotten spells and the slow drip of soul ichor. The gardens are not just crops—they are a power source, a spell battery, a living scripture. It’s said the Lich King Aethelred communes with the moss directly, using it to write new laws of reality in curling glyphs that never stop growing. To enter the gardens is to walk into the very blueprint of madness—alive, and rewriting the world from within.

A vast chamber entombed in translucent ice, lit only by the pulse of glowing moss clinging to frozen stone and bone-laced trellises. The air is still, the ground covered in frost-choked roots that seem to twitch when unobserved. Arching ceilings resemble skeletal ribs, with arcane symbols etched in frost-glass. Silent undead stand like statues among pale stalks, as strands of moss rise slowly, as if listening. Every surface hums with unnatural life.