In the heart of the Enchanted Forest, nestled among the twisted branches of ancient oaks, stood a figure of profound intrigue. This was Goroth, the enigmatic Demon Lord, his visage a formidable sight – a complex tapestry of dark lines and sharp edges, of horns curving sharply upwards, framing an expression of deep, unyielding concentration. The forest was enshrouded in a thick, dark fog, the perfect backdrop to Goroth's mysterious presence.

Goroth, the revered deity of darkness and wisdom, was a creature of noble intentions. For eons, he had used his enchanting voice to calm tumultuous storms and lull restless seas to sleep. But lately, the world had grown weary of hisзно waning powers. Added to this, the constant clamor of the denizens of the Enchanted Forest, whispering prayers for blessings, lingering in requests for favors, had grown arduous for the once tranquil deity. Seeking solace, Goroth pondered on the source of his apathy.

Deep in thought, Goroth gripped the massive horns of his scowling visage as the fog swirled around him. Could it be that the endless craving for worship, the ceaseless entreaties of his devoted subjects, had begun to wear on him? A smile, even one as faint as an autumn leaf's crimson blush, tickled the corners of his collected lips. Perhaps the simple, unadulterated joy of being, unburdened by the weight of the world and its pleas, was all he truly desired. In that very moment, Goroth felt his power surge once more. With a sudden jolt, he realized that the essence of his existence was not to be chained to his creation, but to freely embody the embodiment of wisdom and darkness, the guiding light of the Enchanted Forest. And so, with renewed vigor, Goroth raised his voice over the forest, proclaiming the blessings of his wisdom to all who would listen, as the dark fog swirled and danced in his wake.