The deeper we go, the stronger the pull. It coils around me like invisible chains, tightening with every step. My breath comes shallow, my pulse a frantic drumbeat in my ears. The trees here are skeletal, their branches twisted into grotesque shapes, as if frozen mid-scream. Shadows flicker between them, darting too fast for my eyes to catch.
I don’t look too closely. I’m afraid of what I might see.
Selene moves with purpose, but I can tell she feels it too—the way the air thickens, the way something unseen presses against our skin. Damien stays close to me, his grip firm around the hilt of his sword. His usual sarcasm is gone, replaced by grim silence.
Then, the whispers return.
not whispers. voices.
A chorus of them, overlapping, clawing into my thoughts. Some urgent, some
