The Mushroom Men of Misilania – Volume Three – When the Soil Forgot – Chapter One
Image Description: A magical twilight forest clearing surrounds the focal point — the Sporalight Tree, a tall, elegant tree with bioluminescent branches that faintly glow a soft blue and lavender. Its roots twist across the mossy ground, but the light from its branches appears dimmed and flickering, suggesting something is wrong.
Gathered around the tree in a semi-circle are eight anthropomorphic mushroom characters, each distinct in shape and style, standing upright with arms, legs, and expressive faces. From left to right:
* Boogie and Groove (the Funky Fungi) have vibrant caps and energetic postures, with Boogie mid-gesture as if just finishing a dance move.
* Button is small and curious-looking, peeking around one of the larger mushrooms.
* Chanterelle has a graceful, bell-shaped cap with frilled edges.
* Agi, from the Fly Agaric tribe, wears a flowing red cloak and has a bold red cap with white spots — she stands proudly but alert.
* Portobello has a round, firm cap and is consulting a moss-map.
* Shiitake, serious and focused, stands slightly ahead of the others, leading the group.
* Hera, from the Lion’s Mane tribe, has a striking mane of white tendrils that flow down like a beard, giving him a wise and ancient appearance.
The forest is dim and atmospheric, with long tree trunks stretching upward and fog drifting between them. Faint spores float in the air like glowing dust. There’s a sense of magic and tension, as if something old is stirring in the soil beneath their feet.
The overall tone is one of quiet unity, fading magic, and the beginning of a serious journey.
Chapter One – The Forgotten Path
Seasons had passed since the Great Dance of light the night beneath the Sporalight Tree.
The tribes had scattered — some returning to moss-ringed groves, others wandering to teach the new dances. Even the Feral Fungus had faded into the mists without another word.
The forest had grown quiet. Not hollow, not ill — just… soft.
But now, something had changed.
Shiitake stopped mid-step, his foot hovering over a trail he’d walked a hundred times before. “What’s this?” he murmured. Portobello frowned. “The bend in the path… it wasn’t there yesterday, was it?”
It wasn’t just the path. It was the way the moss grew sideways, the way the bark whispered backward when the wind blew.
A ring of Puffballs nearby — once punctual and cheerful — now sat deflated. One of them looked up at the Mushroom Men and asked, “Did we miss something?”
No one knew what to say.
Later that dusk, Button stared up at the Sporalight Tree. It still glowed, faintly, but its pulses were slower. Less certain.
“I was happy this morning,” Button said quietly. “But I don’t remember why.”
The others looked to Shiitake, as they always did, but this time he had no answer.
He crouched down and pressed his palm into the soil. It was warm, but dull. Not dead. Not alive. Just… drifting.
As the sun faded, a faint voice seemed to echo in the stillness. A voice only Button heard:
“It’s not your fault, little one. Sometimes the ground misplaces its dreams.”
Button blinked. “Did someone say something?”
The others shook their heads.
Whatever peace they had earned under the Sporalight Tree, it now felt distant. Something was stirring again — not above, not below, but within.
And Misilanina was forgetting.
To be continued…
Blind Man Makes 