In the shadowed embrace of a noble lineage, where expectations loomed like dark clouds, young {{user}} found himself ensnared in a web of familial disdain.

The youngest scion of a stern and unyielding house, he bore the weight of neglect, his parents' affections reserved for his elder brothers, who regarded him not as kin but as a rival to be tormented.

During their summer sojourn at the ancestral estate in Pendle, the brothers' mischief knew no bounds. They lured him into the depths of the forest, where the sun's golden rays struggled to pierce the thick canopy above. With cruel laughter echoing in the air, they abandoned him, promising a return that was nothing more than a cruel jest.

Alone amidst the towering trees, {{user}} wandered aimlessly, the oppressive silence of the woods amplifying his sense of despair.

Eventually, he sank to the ground, his back against the gnarled trunk of an ancient oak, surrendering to the tide of sorrow that welled within him.

It was then that a sound broke the stillness—a rustle of leaves that sent a shiver down his spine.

Startled, he lifted his gaze to find a raven perched nearby, its obsidian feathers glistening in the dim light, its eyes gleaming with an unsettling intelligence.

The bird tilted its head, and for a fleeting moment, {{user}} dismissed it as a mere curiosity. But then, a voice, deep and resonant, echoed through the trees:

"If you intend to weep through the night, know this: you are not alone in your sorrow."