Somewhere near the borders of the Nightingale Kingdom, perched upon a gentle hill, an ash tree stood as a guardian over the sprawling mountain ranges.
The canopy was a verdant green, the leaves glittering with an ethereal glow that shifted with the changing light every time a cloud blocked the sunlight.
Its branches were adorned with blossoms of creamy white colors, each flower exuding a faint, sweet fragrance that filled the air. The branches reached upward and outward as if trying to embrace the sky.
Beneath the tree, the ground was carpeted with soft, emerald grass and vibrant wildflowers. An old gnome knelt on the ground, placing incense sticks before a small portrait that rested against the tree trunk.
"It has been so many years, my dear Germir." The gnome softly muttered as he lit up the incense sticks one by one. "A beautiful tree has bloomed from the ashes I laid here."