No one remembers when it began its watch, perhaps not even the Warden itself. It moves between worlds, where roots remember, and whispers of the lost cling to the fog. Some call it ancient, others call it cursed. The truth is quieter: it simply never stopped walking. The souls it guards hum in the wind, and the trees speak in secrets it pretends to ignore. Nature still whispers to it, mostly complaints about humans. Not all who wander are lost… but he finds them anyway.