With mushroom cap and mask of red, I walk where mortal fears are fed. A whisper wrapped in tailored grace, A shadow lost in time and space. I bloom in realms where logic dies, Beneath the soil, behind the skies. My suit is stitched from velvet thread, My words are spells the old trees said. Not born, but woven—root and lore— I am the myth: the Cardinal Spore. 🍄🌕🌫️