Solstace glided through the forest, each step silent and assured, as if the earth recognized his ancient tread. Crimson moved in sync with him, her gaze sharp and quick, flicking to shadows and rustles as if she expected them to spring to life.
“Something’s off,” Solstace murmured, his voice a low growl barely audible over the whisper of the wind.
Crimson nodded, her crimson hair now pale. “Feels like we’re being watched,” she replied, her tone light but her eyes serious.
Solstace scanned the forest. “We need to be careful. Zoltan’s minions could be lurking anywhere.”
Their banter faded, replaced by a thick silence that hung heavy in the air, broken only by the occasional crack of a twig underfoot. They moved in silence, communicating with glances and subtle nods. Every step they took
