Location and Access
The Thornheart Grove lies deep within the Great Forest west of Silverwick, several hours' journey through increasingly dense and ancient woods. No maps mark its location. No clear path leads there. Only the Tithe-Keepers, with their Pathfinding Glimmer, can reliably find it—and even they describe the journey as feeling pulled rather than guided.
The forest around the Grove grows strange the deeper you venture. Trees become twisted, older, their bark pale as bone. Normal animal sounds fade. The air grows colder despite shelter from wind. Those few who've attempted to find the Grove without the Pathfinding gift report becoming hopelessly disoriented, walking in circles, or fleeing in unexplained panic.
The Grove does not want to be found. Except by those who must.
The Eerie Light
The Grove is blanketed in Frost-Moss—far more than grows anywhere else in the known world. It carpets the ground, climbs ancient trees, hangs in luminous curtains from twisted branches. The entire Grove glows with cold, blue-white light bright enough to read by even in deepest night.
This light casts no warmth. Shadows move strangely, stretching in impossible directions. The silence is absolute—no wind, no birds, no insects, not even the creak of frozen branches. Your breath doesn't fog. Time feels uncertain; hours might pass like minutes, or minutes stretch endlessly.
The Frost-Moss itself seems almost aware. Its glow pulses slowly, rhythmically, like something breathing. Tithe-Keepers describe feeling watched by the moss itself, though this is likely imagination brought on by fear and isolation.
Still. No one who's been there likes to stand in that light for long.
The Thornheart Tree
At the Grove's center stands the tree that gives the place its name—a massive, ancient specimen unlike any other in the forest. Its bark is pale as bone, smooth and cold to touch. Its branches spread wide but bear no leaves, only ice that never melts even during the thaw. Thorns as long as daggers spiral up its trunk in geometric patterns that seem almost deliberate.
The Frost-Moss grows thickest around the Thornheart's base, creating a perfect circle of luminescence. The tree itself radiates cold—standing near it is like standing before an open ice cave. Frost forms on clothing and weapons within minutes.
Some believe the tree is the source of the Frost-Moss. Others think it's merely the oldest tree in a very old forest. The Tithe-Keepers won't say, but they treat the tree with reverence bordering on fear.
This is where the tithe is left. At the roots, in the circle of light.
What Dwells There
Something resides in the Thornheart Grove. Every Tithe-Keeper who has made the journey confirms this, though descriptions vary wildly—or more accurately, they refuse to describe what they saw at all.
Grandmother Sile, who has made the journey forty times, will say only: "It's old. It's aware. And it honors bargains."
Previous Tithe-Keepers were equally cryptic. "It understands." "It waits." "It knows things." "It remembers what we've forgotten."
When pressed for details—what does it look like? How does it move? Does it speak?—they fall silent or change the subject. Some have nightmares afterward. Some refuse to sleep in darkness. All agree that seeing it changes something fundamental in how you understand the world.
The entity accepts the tithe—food, crafted goods, whatever the dreams demanded. The offerings are left at the Thornheart's base, the old words spoken, and then... they vanish. The Tithe-Keeper never sees how. One moment they're there, the next they're gone.
And during that transition, there's a moment of acknowledgment. A sense of being seen by something vast and ancient. A feeling like drowning in cold water while something enormous swims beneath you.
Then it's over. The Keeper can leave. But they're never quite the same.
Connection to the Frost-Walkers
The infection that creates Frost-Walkers, Frost-Shields, and Frost-Stalkers originates from the Grove—this much is certain. Animals that venture too close return changed, or don't return at all. The corruption spreads outward from this place like ripples from a stone dropped in still water.
But it's not merely proximity. The entity seems to command the infected creatures. When the tithe is paid, Frost-Walkers avoid Silverwick's walls. When payment is late, they gather with disturbing coordination. When payment has been refused in the past, they attacked with strategic precision impossible for normal animals.
The entity doesn't create them—the corruption exists independent of any single source. But it controls them, directs them, holds them in check.
The tithe is payment for that restraint.
Unanswered Questions
The Grove holds many mysteries that even the Tithe-Keepers cannot answer:
How old is the Grove? The trees suggest centuries, perhaps millennia. But the Frost-Moss only grows in the endless winter. Did this place exist before The Longest Night, or did it emerge after?
What is the entity? Spirit? Ancient guardian? Something that predates humanity? No one knows.
Why does it honor bargains? Most predators simply take. This one negotiates. Why?
What does it want with human offerings? Food it could hunt. Crafted goods mean nothing to forest creatures. Why demand tribute at all?
Can it leave the Grove? Has it ever tried? Is it bound there, or does it choose to remain?
And perhaps most troubling: Is it getting stronger? Elder Maren and Grandmother Sile have noticed more corrupted animals, the infection spreading farther from the Grove. Is this natural fluctuation, or is something changing?
Warnings
Father Solace keeps fragmentary records from previous Tithe-Keepers. Warnings passed down, carefully preserved:
"Do not enter the Grove except on the longest night."
"Do not speak except to deliver the words of offering."
"Do not look directly at what comes. Peripheral vision only."
"Do not touch the Thornheart tree except to place offerings at its base."
"If it speaks, do not answer. The old words are the only words."
"Leave before the moss-light begins to pulse faster."
And most cryptically: "If you see yourself in the Grove, run. Do not look back."
No one knows what that last warning means. No Tithe-Keeper has ever admitted to seeing themselves. But the warning remains, repeated across generations, preserved because someone once thought it important enough to pass down.
The Grove's Pull
A handful of people report feeling drawn toward the Grove. A compulsion to walk into the forest, to find that cold light, to see what dwells there. The Ice-Singers call these people "grove-touched" and watch them carefully.
Most resist the pull. Some don't. Occasionally, someone walks into the western forest and doesn't return. Search parties find no trace. The Watch assumes Frost-Walkers, but there are never bodies, never signs of struggle.
Just absence.
The Tithe-Keepers wonder if the entity is... curious. Testing. Calling to those with particular qualities. But they don't know what it's looking for, or what happens to those who answer the call.
They just know that people who feel the pull and resist it report the same thing: a sense that something vast and patient is disappointed but willing to wait.
It can always wait.