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Liam approached a fallen log, its vast surface blanketed in a thick layer of bioluminescent moss that shimmered beneath his touch. As his fingers brushed across it, a soft greenish light bloomed around them, trailing along his hand in gentle pulses that wrapped his hand in an almost sacred glow. For a moment, it felt as though the jungle were acknowledging him.

The log was massive—easily three body lengths wide—and its sheer scale halted him in his tracks. It felt more like a monument than mere deadwood, an ancient relic of the forest shaped by centuries of time and weather. Its bark, warped and furrowed, was etched with intricate patterns that resembled the veins of a forgotten language...