The forest around them breathed, alive with a dark pulse that pressed against Rose's skin. The black-barked trees loomed tall, their roots twisting like serpents beneath their feet. Above, the sky was an inverted painting — stars flickering beneath their feet, clouds swirling overhead. It was a world upside-down and inside-out, a reflection warped by magic.
Rose tightened her grip on her satchel. Beside her, Basil scanned the shadows with sharp eyes. The glowing glyphs on their wrists burned softly, tethering them together like a chain of light.
"We need a plan," Basil said, voice low but steady. "This place isn't just a trap—it's a prison."
"Yeah, well, prisons don't usually have howling monsters," Rose shot back, her fingers crackling with restrained electricity.
A rustle from the shadows made them spin. Two pairs of eyes — bright and hungry — glared through the gloom. Low growls rumbled deep in throats unseen.
From the darkness, twisted creatures slithered forward. They were half-wolf, half-shadow, their forms flickering and insubstantial, like smoke with teeth.
Rose stepped forward, electricity dancing along her fingertips. "Come on, then."
Basil drew a dagger gleaming with runes. "Let's show them why they don't mess with the Witch of Brimstone and the Thornridge heir."
The creatures lunged.
Lightning sparked from Rose's hands, illuminating the forest in jagged streaks. Basil moved like a shadow himself, blade slicing through the smoky forms, dispersing them with bursts of enchanted steel.
The fight was chaotic and fierce, but they moved in sync—Basil's blade cutting a path, Rose's lightning carving light in the darkness.
When the last creature dissolved into mist, silence returned—thick and heavy.
Rose gasped, her breath clouding in the cold air. "That was... fun."
Basil smirked, wiping sweat from his brow. "I think we make a good team."
They pressed on, following the faint glow of their glyphs like a compass.
After what felt like hours, they reached a clearing bathed in silver light. In its center stood a great stone altar carved with ancient runes—some familiar, others eerily alien.
Rose approached cautiously. "This must be the source of the hex."
Basil nodded. "And probably where Belladoma is being held."
They circled the altar, eyes sharp. Suddenly, the ground trembled, and from the shadows stepped a figure draped in tattered robes. Her eyes gleamed like twin moons, cold and sharp.
"Welcome, Rose. Basil," the woman's voice was smooth, laced with dark amusement. "You've come far."
"Belladoma?" Rose asked, heart pounding.
The woman laughed softly. "Close. I'm the Keeper of the Mirrorwood. And you've trespassed in my domain."
Basil's hand went to his dagger. "Let her go."
The Keeper's smile faded. "If you want her, you must earn it."
She raised her hands, and the runes on the altar flared, casting strange shadows that twisted and warped.
"Prepare yourselves," she warned.
The battle was only beginning.