Spohr: THE SNAKE THAT ATE THE FOREST
“All wisdom is born of desperation… and fungi.”
— Spohr
Long before the forest had a name, before the mycelium grew thick between root and ruin, there lived a small, unimpressive snake.
He had no title.
No followers.
No voice.
Just a flicking tongue and a frantic life in the underbrush — a species barely studied, barely seen. Somewhere between garter and ghost.
He was hunted — not as prey, but as an inconvenience.
Chased by a much larger, furred thing (what kind, Spohr never says), he fled into a cave tucked beneath a collapsed tree. A place where sun dared not go.
The deeper he slithered, the darker it became.
And the cave... was not empty.
Inside, in absolute black, mushrooms grew with no regard for time or taxonomy. They pulsed in silence — fat, shriveled, glowing faintly from cracks in the stone.
And he was starving.
Driven past instinct, past fear, past reason, the snake consumed what he could.
Small caps. Spongy stalks. Slick masses of bioluminescent tissue.
Some of them alive. Some... watching.
He remembers nothing after that.
☁️ The Rebirth
He awoke weeks later, no longer hungry.
No longer speechless.
No longer just a snake.
He could see things through things — the slow crawl of decay, the chemical messages whispered in fungal threads, the network beneath the network. He saw how the mushrooms remembered, how they shared, how they communicated with the forest itself.
He called it The Fold, because what had once been flat now revealed its layers.
And he became its voice.
Over centuries — or minutes, depending on who you ask — Spohr slithered from the cave, mind humming with mycelium-born math and metaphor.
The forest changed around him.
Those who entered sensed something else in the air — something old, tired, smug, and slightly high.
And when Mythical Forest was founded, he didn’t join it.
He merely... allowed it to exist in his presence.
🌿 Now
He naps. He thinks.
Sometimes he appears in dreams.
Sometimes in product emails.
He is not your guide. He is not your god. He is Spohr , and if you’re lucky, he’ll ignore you long enough for you to become interesting.