The storm grew heavier and heavier every second. The rain cuts through their cloaks and armor like icy blades because of its thickness and volumes.
The seven groups of adventurers keep pressing onward with determination. Their torches flickering weakly against the thickening fog. Their breath came with the sharp taste of cold mist and rain.
The horses snorted and stomped nervously. Their eyes wide as they saw shadows moved beyond the mist.
The forest around them seemed to breathe. The gusts of wind carried a strange swish sounds like the whisper of something else under all the storm.
The thunder no longer rumbled in the distance. It cracked close and in short intervals, shaking branches and rattling the soaked ground.
"Something is very wrong here," one of the women murmured while gripping her reins tighter. "The storm shouldn't feel this heavy."
