When gazing upon the wild and warped canopy of Berwyn Forest, that neither sun nor rain may pierce, one would be forgiven for developing the unsettling sensation that the forest is gazing back. Things were not always as such, however; many centuries before [[Coalescence]] Berwyn was not a forest but rather a kingdom, known as Beredin, home to the descendants of the Beronne, an ancient tribe of the Eavrins. While their nation was conquered by Ildir they remained prosperous, enjoying a languorous and hedonistic existence fueled by a nearly endless supply of wine; the grapevines of which thrived in the warm and welcoming climate surrounding Lake Arbeth. At that time, Berwyn was but an ancient woodland to the north of Lake Arbeth, loved by the Beronne for the delectable mushrooms that grew in its underbrush. But then, Berwyn began to grow. From it sprouted a barrage of twisting oaks, strangling vines, and creeping brambles that grew at an astonishing rate, quickly drowning the kingdom in an unending sea of green. The Beronne were forced to flee from their kingdom, eventually finding refuge in the north of [[Andar]] where they founded a new homeland called [[Beragne]]. The all-consuming forest, however, only continued to grow. In the millennia since, Berwyn has come to blanket nearly all the lands from Blackmire to the ruins of [[Old Ildir]]. Its growth has not slowed, and in recent centuries has begun to reach the nearby cities of Caewern and Glan-Towyn, the inhabitants of which regularly and fiercely attempt to halt its expansion through fire and axe. But the deforestation of Berwyn has had little effect, for year after year the forest does not only regrow where it was felled, but also expands in novel areas that none would think to check for new vegetation. It is this cunning that lends credence to the long-held belief that Berwyn is not only alive, but it also thinks, plans, and deceives. Those who have survived a journey into the depths of Berwyn are a rare breed, and often have lost much of their sanity due to what they have beheld within. Their stories are often unintelligible and little more than gibberish, but a disturbing number of them make reference to “[[Men|women]] without faces” and their “mother without a head.” The author shall herein make no comment as to their veracity, only their profound disquietedness.