The Ashen Grove is a lifeless copse of petrified trees reduced to skeletal spires, each trunk engraved with faces contorted in silent screams. A perpetual haze cloaks the area, peppered with gray embers drifting like forlorn fireflies. The ground is oddly spongy underfoot, dotted with fungal growths that twitch when touched. Legends claim the grove’s roots siphon vitality from wandering souls, tethering them to an eternal lament.