⚔ Aᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ ⚔

The Hair Forest—grimly called the Forest of Sighs—sprawls across a bleak expanse of Malbolge, a macabre remnant of the Hag Countess Malagard. Its trees are not wood, but impossibly long, thick strands of her withered black hair, each one anchored deep in a bed of ghost-pale soil. The hairs sway and twist of their own accord, brushing against intruders like probing tendrils, whispering with the voices of damned souls ensnared within their fibrous lengths. Since ascending to rule Malbolge, Glasya has repurposed this grotesque forest as a vault and oubliette—concealing her most damning secrets, infernal treasures, and hopeless prisoners in hidden pockets scattered across the tangle. The forest is a maze of despair, where no wind blows, and time seems to unravel. Disembodied sighs drift on stagnant air, and every path feels like it has been walked a thousand times before. To wander the Hair Forest is to feel watched, remembered, and ultimately forgotten.

Endless strands of thick, dark hair rise like willows in a sea of bone-white soil, twisting and coiling as if alive. The “trees” shift slightly with unseen motion, brushing each other with slow, eerie grace. A dull, red haze filters through the canopy, and whispered laments echo without source. Occasional glints of metal—chained vaults or sunken oubliettes—peer through tangles. Nothing breathes here, yet everything listens.