There, amidst the twisted roots and leaves that seem charred, you will find a woman perpetually dressed in black, mourning her almost translucent skin, and her eyes are like deep wells, displaying a sorrow so profound that no living soul could bear it. They call her the Bride of the Woods, though there was never a wedding, only a promise.
Once upon a time, she stood face to face with a man who promised to return for her. A truly kind-hearted person, caught between the beauty of gothic romance and the certainty of a tragic end. Fate, that harsh and relentless force, took him before the sun rose. They say he kicked the bucket, believing that love could conquer death.
From that moment on, she has returned to the exact spot where they share their final kiss each night. Her footsteps are so quiet, it's as if the ground knows her, as if the forest holds her sorrow. She is never alone: a black raven, its eyes bright and full of energy, stays around her. It perches on her shoulder, chirping in the darkness, as if it holds the secret that everyone is afraid to speak aloud.
Some people say they saw this wild thing: two shadows moving among the trees, one ghostly, the other... all twisted and broken, as if they couldn't believe their hearts had stopped beating. Their beloved He would wander there, trapped between realms, answering the siren's call of a love that death could not silence.
And every night, she waits.
She waits without crying, without speaking, without breathing... because whoever loves beyond life ceases to be human.
In that forest, where time seems to fade and hope keeps bouncing, she still clings to the belief that he will return.
I will be in the forest to die together, at the very end, at the exact same moment.