It was quite a sight, here. In the shadows lit by patches of glow were patches of even thicker darkness - black soil - that was then littered with large, smooth rock-that-was-not-rock. He knew it was not rock because when he approached it, he could see the cracked edges of old bone. Very old bone. He found a bone he could only describe as a vertebrae, except it was larger than his own head and neck combined, describing a beast of terrifying proportions.

The boy moved through the darkness, sniffing and scratching absentmindedly at the loose soil around the bones.

Thankfully, despite the blanket of shadow that covered the land, it appeared that crystals had blossomed upon the osseous matter, bringing that strange heart-glow that they did elsewhere. Here, it didn't seem there were quite so many mushrooms to combat the crystals. Nevertheless, he knew if he looked up, he would see the bobbing lights of the Whispers, those strange creatures that sang the voices of his mother.

He ignored them.

It would do no good to dwell on a past that could not be true.

She was dead.