The old forest greeted them like a closed mouth—wide, silent, dark. No birds. No animals. Just roots and stillness. The trail disappeared less than an hour in. Trees leaned inward, their trunks swollen with age and something else. Something recent. Like they'd been fed.
Leon moved without hesitation. His blade was sheathed now, but his eyes were sharper than ever. Mira muttered softly behind him, her fingers grazing runes etched into tree bark. Old wards. Broken.
"Something passed through here," she said. "Something that fed."
Tomas kept pace beside her, scanning the canopy. "Do you hear that?"
They stopped.
Leon frowned. "What?"
"Nothing. No wind. No movement. It's like the whole forest is holding its breath."
He was right.
Leon gestured forward. They moved again. The deeper they went, the more unnatural the silence became. There were no insects, no fallen leaves underfoot. Just packed dirt and the faint scent of copper.
