The forest thinned slowly, each tree giving way to wider gaps, until the land unfolded into a series of broken hills. Moss-draped boulders jutted from the slopes like the bones of some colossal beast long dead, their surfaces cracked and pitted, their shapes warped by centuries of storms and silence.
The air here was different, thicker, denser, as though sound itself feared to linger. Even the birds were quiet. The only noise was the rasp of their boots on stone and the faint creak of leather straps as they climbed the ridge.
Leo felt it first.
A vibration, so faint it might have been his imagination. A low hum, like the pluck of a string deep beneath the earth. It wasn't sound, not exactly, it pressed against his chest, thrummed inside his ribs, pulling at his heartbeat until it matched the rhythm. The longer he walked, the more it filled him, until each step seemed to echo from inside his bones.
