Ancient and shadowed, Shael’Nareth lies where day ends and dreams begin. Here, the veil between the Material and the Feywild grows thin, and the forest pulses with quiet, arcane rhythm. The trees are tall and dark, their bark cold and damp, their roots coiling around runes older than names. Time feels different within its bounds, softer and slower. This grove is a place of secrets, reflection, and necessary endings. Druids come here to mourn, to scry, to listen to the silence.