At the heart of the Walking Forest lies Ierya, the oldest grove, where the largest and most ancient Grayls stand. While the outer forest shifts and migrates, Ierya barely moves—it is the anchor point, the heartwood, the still center around which everything else slowly rotates.
The trees in Ierya are impossibly vast. Their trunks are wider than houses; their canopy is so high it creates its own weather—mist and light rain fall beneath the leaves even on clear days. The understory is a twilight world of massive roots, bioluminescent moss, and absolute stillness.
The oldest Grayls dwell here, some who haven't moved in centuries. They stand among their bonded trees, dreaming slow green dreams, aware of the forest in ways that younger beings cannot comprehend. Entering Ierya means entering their attention. They may not act, may not even acknowledge visitors. But they notice.