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"I didn't know I was invited," Elara whispered, clutching the silver key.

It was a house built not of stone and mortar, but of memories and magic. The walls were thick bark, polished to a dull shine, and the roof was thatched with dried fern leaves that never seemed to rot. Elara stepped onto the moss-covered path, her heart fluttering like the glowing moths that danced around the lanterns hanging from the branches above. 00FE9511-78EA-49E4-A96C-66E53CACB38F.jpeg

For centuries, the Great Oak had stood at the edge of the Whispering Woods, its roots diving deep into secrets older than the stars. But it wasn't until Elara found the silver key in the creek that the door in the roots finally appeared. "I didn't know I was invited," Elara whispered,

"You're late for tea, Elara," a voice rasped from a high-backed chair made of woven willow. Elara stepped onto the moss-covered path, her heart