★°• Raven •°★'s Den

LORE

In the shadowed depths of the Whispering Woods prowled Raven, a mighty lion cloaked in black and gray, with eyes like dying stars and fangs carved by ancient war. He was feared, a ghost of battles past, bound to protect the cursed forest from all who dared trespass.

Far to the east, beneath golden light and blooming wilds, lived Sunny, the Herbal Huntress. With fire-brushed fur and satchels full of herbs and charms, she walked gently but carried the wisdom of many lifetimes. Her paws healed as easily as they fought.

When the balance of the Wild Realms began to tip, prey vanished, rivers dried, and a creeping black root choked the oldest trees, the spirits of the First Lions summoned both Raven and Sunny in dreams. They were chosen: one of shadow, one of sun.

Raven awoke beneath a blood-colored moon, its light piercing through the forest canopy like a warning. The dream still echoed in his mind, a tree rotting from within, its bark weeping black sap, and a lioness bathed in sunlight standing beside him. He growled low, unsettled. Dreams were for the weak. Yet this one clung to him like mist.
Miles away, Sunny stirred beneath a flowering acacia. The vision had been clear: the blight would consume everything unless the lion of night met her at the place where light dies, the edge of the Whispering Woods. She packed her satchels in silence, slipped her charms around her neck, and began the long journey west.

When they met, it was not with warmth.

Raven stood tall, shadows curling around him, his eyes sharp with suspicion.
"You tread on cursed soil," he rumbled.
Sunny held his gaze, calm and steady.
"And you let it rot beneath your paws."
They circled one another, not in anger, but in recognition, two forces shaped by the same world, molded in opposite ways. The forest around them seemed to hush, watching.

Together, they walked deeper into the dying land. Trees that once sang with wind now groaned. Animals had fled. The ground cracked and reeked of decay.
In the heart of it stood the tree from their dreams, vast, ancient, and corrupted. Its branches stretched like claws, leaves blackened and curled.
Raven stepped forward, baring his teeth. "This is no natural curse."
"No," Sunny whispered, her paw pressing against the trunk. "This is old magic. Forgotten. Twisted."

A hush fell over the clearing. The tree groaned faintly, as though it were breathing or weeping.
Sunny closed her eyes. The bark beneath her paw was cold, but not lifeless. "It's not attacking us," she said quietly. "It’s calling."
Raven tilted his head, wary. "Calling for what?"
She didn’t answer immediately. Her ears twitched, listening to something deeper than sound. "It’s remembering," she said finally. "This tree… it was once sacred. Planted at the center of the Wild Realms to hold the balance between life and death."
He circled the roots cautiously. “Then why is it rotting?”
“Because something was forgotten,” she said. “Not destroyed, just left behind too long.”
At the base of the tree, half-buried in earth and moss, Sunny uncovered a small stone circle etched with ancient glyphs. Time had worn away most of the markings, but she traced them slowly with her paw, lips murmuring half-familiar phrases.
“I think this was a bond,” she said. “A pact between Guardians, two lions, like us. One of night, one of day. When they were gone, the tree lost its tether.”
Raven’s eyes narrowed. “So the blight is grief.”
Sunny nodded. “Not hatred. Not anger. Just loneliness.”
They stood there for a long while, the weight of centuries pressing down. Then, wordlessly, Raven stepped beside her and placed his paw on the stone. The shadows that clung to him reached forward, curling softly around the glyphs.

Sunny placed her paw beside his, letting warmth and light trickle into the circle.
A pulse echoed through the Ground, slow and steady, like a heartbeat waking from deep slumber. The tree did not bloom, nor did the forest cheer. But the leaves stopped curling. The groaning quieted.

It was a start.

“We don’t need to heal it,” Sunny murmured. “We need to stay.”
Raven gave a slow nod. “Then we stay.”
And so, in the clearing where decay once ruled, the two lions made their vigil, not to fight, but to remember. To listen. To become what was lost.

The guardians had returned.

ABOUT ME

Hello! You can call me Raven, i'm an artschool Student who loves Wolves, the wildlife, Stars, Forests and Bones. You can follow my art journal over here: @th3real.raven⭐️