The village of Elmwood appeared on the horizon just as Zara had predicted, its thatched roofs and weathered buildings a welcome sight after days in the Shifting Forest. Our foxlin guide chirped softly before disappearing into the underbrush, its task seemingly complete.
"I'm going to miss that little guy," Lukas said, a hint of genuine sadness in his voice.
As we approached the village outskirts, something felt off. The usual sounds of a bustling community – children playing, merchants hawking their wares – were absent. Instead, an eerie silence hung over Elmwood like a shroud.
"Stay alert," I whispered, my hand instinctively moving to the hilt of my sword.
We made our way down the main street, eyes darting from shuttered windows to empty doorways. The few villagers we did see hurried
