Thronebreaker: The One Who Devours Names

The Bleeding Tree whispered.

Not in words, but in colors.

Crimson ran down its trunk in threads that pulsed with memories not its own, and roots like veins coiled outward from the shrine grounds, hungry and ancient. Raen stood before it, still as the snow around him, the mark on his chest glowing faintly in rhythm with the tree's breathless silence.

And deep within it, something called his name.

Not the one he used now.

But the one he had thrown away.

> "Come closer..."

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1. The Vision

Raen placed his palm against the bark.

It was warm.