The following is an except from Phantammeron Book One by author Mitchell Stokely.

“For many distant ages Phantaia had grown, alone and apart from the eyes of that evil, beyond even the Dreaming Seas, whose waves roared in the darkness along its forbidding and forgotten shores. Wild and free, the forest had thrived over many eons, tangled, cobwebbed, menacing, wrapped in mist, and drowned within the darkness of its own shadowed past, until its massive trees of tremendous girth and height, growing splendidly within their solemn shade, at last pierced the inky skies. Their twisted boughs had scaled the heights of Heaven, with crowded and haughty umbrage, until they looked down with a menacing scowl upon their sister seas below.

The trees of Phantaia had clustered upon that shore until, forming a great bulwark of trunks, they stood like bearded warriors, guarding the dark gateways to the tangled glades and secretive lands that lay beyond them. No sea or storm, light or dim glow of night, would or could now enter there. So Phantaia remained a timeless place, a forest paradise, forever free of the waxing and waning of seasons, the changing rhythm of moons and suns, the churning and turning of the stars and seas, and the lights of Heaven, which had yet been born to brighten the lonesome depths of that wilderness.

Nothing could ever enter or leave Phantaia. Nor had any being known its secretive paths, save one. For the vast forests of Phantaia had stretched far beyond the shores of those seas, back into the farthest spheres and mazes of eternal space and time, into an limitless landscape of black boles, twisted roots, shattered stumps, and shifting shadows whose reaches none could ever grasp or fathom.

Past the Lands of Midnight, beyond even the echoing Halls of Time, that unending wilderness had grown, until Phantaia’s tangled and rugged waste, nightmarish woods, and maddening mounds and mountains of thirsty growth had spread themselves throughout the farthest fringes of this world. At their farthest frontiers Phantaia’s ghoulish trees seemed to disappear, into an unknown realm filled with strange blue fog and yawning catacombs of darkening depths. There upon a misty and rocky precipice, Phantaia’s black and hulking trunks, trembling with terror, clustered upon its farthest cliffs, and looked down into the frightful gulf that fell away, into the hate-filled abyss of the Great Beyond.”

– the Author