Old songs tell of a 'Silver Thread' — a small leyline that once linked the elven high trees to a now-crumbled star-temple. The tavern sits over one of that thread's knots, and the vines that record gossip are said to be woven from its same silver energy. Local sages speak cautiously of a sealed 'Eastern Root' — a carved root of the sentinel oak which, if opened without a proper concord, could reach into the sleeping places between worlds. Many artifacts traded quietly in the Haven carry sigils from the Starward Conclave, a secretive group of elven custodians who monitor planar breaches and sometimes seed taverns like this with protective wards and watchers.